The Apple Blossom Bower (Historical Romance Novella) Read Online Free Page A

returned to Somersetshire and the kindly and unpretentious relatives who had raised him, until summoned to Harbourne Court by his ailing great-uncle. On the crotchety bachelor’s death, Edwin had become possessor of his baronetcy and his estate.
    The imposing Elizabethan manor and its outbuildings were surrounded by a spacious and overgrown park containing a scantily stocked fishpond and a neglected rose arbor. Although the house had lacked a mistress for decades, its furnishings and appointments were rather well preserved. In the library Edwin had found an antique housekeeping book written by an ancestress at the close of the previous century. Reading it, he’d ascertained how many tasks had been dispensed with by his late uncle’s staff, all of whom remained in his employ. The decrepit housekeeper’s eyesight had all but failed, and her loyal subordinates resented taking orders from anyone else. Someday soon he’d have to pension her off.
    Garth interrupted his reflections by observing, “That boy wants you.”
    Edwin looked around and saw one of his grooms coming towards them.
    “A message came from the squire, sir,” the young man announced. “He asks that you call upon him at—at—” He wrinkled his brow in an effort to recall what he’d been told to say.
    “At my earliest convenience,” Edwin supplied, handing his pistol to Garth. “Take this one—perhaps it will prove luckier than the other. Take care not to slay any of my sheep.”
    “Shall I go with you?”
    “No, no,” he responded quickly, preferring to keep Garth at a distance from Annis Kelland. “I’d best have a wash and change my clothes.” Running his hand across the two-day growth of beard, he added, “And I’m in need of a shave.”
    Within an hour he had completed all of these improvements, and by the time he descended upon the stables he was the model of a respectable country gentleman. The young man who delivered the squire’s summons had saddled his favorite mount. The head groom watched from a nearby bench, a piece of hay firmly between his lips and at Edwin’s approach he bounded to his feet.
    “Did you and Bart muck out the stable, Jenkins?”
    “Aye, sir,” he said, clearly affronted by the implication that he might in any way be derelict in his duty. “Sir Edwin, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you. Yon horses badly want exercising, and have these two days past. Bart and me can’t take more’n two out at a time, and there’s a full half-dozen of ’em in need of a good gallop every day. I was thinking p’raps you might take on another groom, or else go back to riding ’em yourself.”
    “Mr. Corston claims to be an excellent rider—it was to try my horses that he came to Devonshire.” Or so Garth had claimed. Edwin wasn’t altogether certain it was a credible explanation. “When I return from Orchard Place, we can talk more of this.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    Edwin took his horse’s reins from Bart, who gazed up at him expectantly, his Adam’s apple rising and falling as he gulped. “What is it, lad?”
    “Might—might I ride with you to Squire Dundridge’s, sir?”
    Edwin studied the self-conscious youth. “Have you a sweetheart in his employ?”
    Jenkins chortled, letting the straw fall out of his mouth. “Silly ass, he fancies Miss Annis Kelland. Everyone knows the squire will marry her to a gentleman, not some spotty-faced stable boy.”
    When Bart whirled upon his senior, eyes dark with fury, Edwin gripped his shoulder. “Return to the meadow and inquire of Mr. Corston whether he wishes to ride this morning. Don’t delay.”
    When the reluctant Bart obeyed the order, Jenkins commented, “He b’aint serious about the squire’s lass. He’s at that age where he can’t help but have a care ’bout the one he can’t have. I’ll tease him out of it, sir, you’ll see.”
    “Don’t be harsh,” Edwin cautioned before climbing into the saddle.
    “Eh, I’m fonder of him than I let