A Lady at Willowgrove Hall by Sarah E Ladd Read Free Book Online Page A

on foot.”
    She returned her gaze to the trunk by her feet. “The carriage delivered me at the gate, but the driver said he could not continue through to Willowgrove on account of an impassable bridge. He suggested I walk.”
    “His advice to continue on foot was misguided.” Nathaniel nodded toward the main house. “What is your business at Willowgrove?”
    “I am to be a lady’s companion to Mrs. Trent.”
    At the moment, he was not sure which surprised him more—meeting a young woman on such a secluded road or the fact that Mrs. Trent had acquired yet another companion. She had an unusual habit of bringing guests and not informing him. Such details would be helpful at times like this, when unfamiliar young ladies showed up unannounced.
    Nathaniel tilted his head to see around the curve in the road. The sky grew darker by the minute, and the road beneath him had turned to mud. He could neither allow her to stay here nor to continue on.
    Unsure of how to proceed, he assessed her. She was not a common person, but rather a lady, sent to be the mistress’s personal friend. Even her pelisse, albeit wet and dark, appeared elegantly trimmed and cut.
    Inwardly, he groaned. The last thing he needed was to have any interaction with Mrs. Trent’s companion. But she looked so young. So fragile on so rough a night. He was not about to leave her in the wind and rain.
    “My home, Laurel Cottage, is through those trees. Would you consider accompanying me there? My mother and sisters are at home, I am certain, and once out of this weather we can decide the best course.”
    Miss Faire frowned and looked back over her shoulder, lifting a delicate, gloved hand to shield her eyes. “But Mrs. Trent will be expecting me. I’ve no wish to disappoint her.”
    “Mrs. Trent is away. She will be returning tomorrow. Besides, the driver was correct. The bridge is impassable; the supporting beams were washed away. There is a makeshift footbridge, but that is for the workers and the brick masons. I’d advise against crossing it with wet shoes and in this weather.”
    She looked back over her shoulder again and then turned her eyes toward him. In the gathering darkness, in the shadow of the elms lining the drive, her eyes shone green. Even with wet hair and a soggy cloak clinging to her narrow shoulders, she was very becoming.
    Yet another reason he should have nothing to do with her.
    He released Gus, paused to ensure the dog did not rush the new companion, and stepped forward to pick up her trunk. He spied the long strap she had tied and lifted it. “What’s this?”
    “My trunk was damaged when it was dropped from the carriage, I fear. I tied the strap so I could pull it.”
    Mud and mire caked the battered trunk. He was already soaked. What harm would a little mud do? He hefted the trunk onto his shoulder.
    He whistled to Gus, who trotted over, tail wagging, and then turned to her. “Follow me. Mind your step, miss, and stay close.”

    Feeling more preposterous than ever, Cecily followed Mr. Stanton through the low-lying brush and thick branches. Mr. Stanton was but a black silhouette before her, outlined in the shifting shadows of the wind-tossed forest. She was unaccustomed to walking in such dense forestry. At Aradelle, she had spent many hours exploring the wooded lands around the estate, but those days were distant memories.
    How she wanted to hesitate, to inspect where she was putting her feet to be sure the ground was solid. But Mr. Stanton was traveling at such a pace that she had to trust him, despite that every sensibility within her was screaming a warning.
    Cecily tried to heed his caution and stay as close as possible, attempting to follow his footsteps to the letter, but she winced asshe felt her foot sink into something soft. Her breath caught in her throat when she stepped too close to a branch and it caught on the straw of her bonnet. She paused to free herself.
    When they finally emerged on the other side of the