The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(22)
Sophia answered that she was, and stood to prove it. She was shaky on her feet, though, and glad of Captain Gordon’s firm hand holding to her elbow.
He looked to the mare, quiet now, standing several feet off. ‘She does not appear such a dangerous mount. Will you try her again, if I stand at her head?’
He did not say as much, but Sophia well knew he was urging her back on the horse for a reason. She’d only had such a great fall once before, as a child, and she yet could remember her father, in helping her back on the pony that had thrown her, saying, ‘Never waste a moment getting back into the saddle, else your confidence be lost.’
So she went bravely to the standing mare and let Captain Gordon help her up into her seat, and saw his eyes warm with approval. ‘There,’ he said, and took hold of the bridle. ‘If you will permit me, we shall set a slower pace, on our return.’
The countess rode beside them on her own well-mannered gelding. ‘Truthfully, Thomas,’ she asked him, ‘how came you to Slains? We have had no account of your coming.’
‘I sent none. I did not know if my landing would be possible. We are on our return from the Orkneys and must keep to our patrol, but as the winds have been most favorable I find myself quite able to drop anchor here some few hours without causing us delay.’
The countess said, ‘You have not then been troubled much by privateers?’
‘I have not, my lady. It has been a voyage fraught with boredom—much to the frustration, I might add, of my young colleague, Captain Hamilton, who travels in my wake. He is most keen to fight a Frenchman, and can scarcely be contained from running out to open sea,’ he said, ‘in search of one.’
The countess smiled faintly at the joke, but she looked thoughtful. ‘I confess I did forget your Captain Hamilton.’
‘I know. But I did not.’ His sideways look held reassurance. ‘Do not worry. I have everything in hand.’
It was a function of his character, Sophia thought. He did, indeed, appear to have a flair for taking charge. Within a minute of their getting back to Slains, he had dispatched the mare to Rory to be groomed and searched for injuries, and Kirsty had been summoned to attend Sophia, much to the same purpose, while the captain and the countess waited downstairs in the drawing room.
‘I am not hurt,’ Sophia promised, watching Kirsty fuss round with the washing-bowl and linens, ‘and you do not need to wait upon me.’
‘Captain Gordon’s orders,’ Kirsty said, and cheerfully absolved herself of all responsibility. ‘Och, just look at this mud!’
‘I do fear I have ruined the countess’s beautiful habit.’
‘Well, ye’ve done it nae good. Nor yourself, either. See your back—ye’ll have great bruises. Disna that hurt?’
‘Only a little.’ Sophia winced, though, at the touch.
‘Ye’ll be stiff come the morning. I’ll ask Mrs Grant if she’ll make up a poultice to draw out the swelling. Although I would not be surprised if Captain Gordon has not ordered one for ye already.’ Kirsty paused, as though considering, which made Sophia think that, like herself, the girl felt unsure where the boundaries of their new acquaintance lay, for all she wanted to be friends. At long last Kirsty said, ‘Ye must be pleased, to have so great a man as Captain Gordon take an interest in ye.’
‘Take an interest…? Oh, no, I am certain he is only being kind,’ Sophia said. Then, to Kirsty’s glance, she added, ‘He is in his forties, and must surely have a wife.’
‘A wife does rarely keep a man like that from looking where he likes.’
Sophia felt her face begin to flush. ‘But you are wrong.’
‘If ye would so believe,’ said Kirsty, gathering the muddied clothes. But she was smiling, and her smile broadened when Sophia chose her plainest, least becoming gown to wear downstairs.
It was not that Sophia did not think the captain an attractive man, but only that she did not wish to have his admiration in that way, and it relieved her that he took but little notice of her when she joined the others in the drawing room.
He was already standing, and he said to Mr Hall, ‘Are you so sure you wish to leave? The winds are blowing fair, these days.’
‘I cannot stay. His Grace the Duke of Hamilton has sent me word that I am sorely needed back in Edinburgh.’
‘Then I shall be pleased to convey you to Leith. But we sail on the hour. Can you make yourself ready?’
‘I can, Captain.’ Turning, he said to the countess, ‘My lady Erroll, I do thank you for your kindness in allowing me to linger here. Were it not for the strong tone of His Grace’s recent message I do fear that you might never have been rid of me.’
‘Good Mr Hall, you are welcome at Slains, now and always. I wish you a safe journey home.’
He nodded his acceptance of her blessing. ‘Is there any message you would send the duke?’
‘None, except I wish him health, and recommend him to the Lord High Constable, my son, if he should wish to send me word.’
The priest gave one more nod, and to Sophia said, ‘I wish you well, my dear. I shall remember you in prayer.’ He left them then, presumably to gather to his belongings.
Captain Gordon stayed some minutes more, and sat and talked of idle things, but it was clear that he, too, wanted to be off. At length he stood, and took his leave. ‘I’m bound for Tynemouth, after Leith,’ he told the countess. ‘It will be no less than fourteen days before I once again come north, and I will be certain to send you a proper account of my coming.’