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

on. A good boy, that one, but even the best of ’em needs some rough words to keep ’em in line.”
    The road to the squire’s farm carried Edwin southward, past meadows swarming with sheep and their new lambs. The sky was overcast, rather like his mood, for he was concerned that he might be about to receive a scold—or worse—from Squire Dundridge. Had Annis revealed his admission at the Castle Inn that he wanted her to share his bed? That remark would be difficult to explain to her guardian.
    The squire received him quite cordially, allying his fears. Edwin found him flinging corn to the geese wadding about the barton, a large yard enclosed by ricks and outbuildings.
    “I think to see you so soon,” said Dundridge, dusting his hands. He led Edwin to the house, a handsome stone structure with chimneys at each end, a new slate roof, and ivy-covered walls. “My wife is paying a call, and I left Annis in the orchard, supervising the workers. We can converse in private. Sir Edwin, I stand in need of your advice.”
    Squire Dundridge’s income, reportedly an ample one, derived partly from his extensive apples orchards. He brewed hundreds of hogsheads annually, some of them going to the Plymouth and the Navy ships. The remainder was sold to taverns too small to produce their own cider. The squire’s social presence had decreased since his marriage to smuggler’s widow eight years ago, but he seemed quite contented with what the majority of the district regarded as a misalliance. In Edwin’s view, Mrs. Dundridge was a pleasant hostess and an admirable housekeeper and did not disgrace the position to which she had been raised.
    The squire ushered him into a tidy parlor and after pouring out two glasses of amber liquor. “Tell me your opinion of this latest attempt to produce Calvados. I’ve tried with varying success to get it right, ever since I visited France. What began as a hobby has become my obsession.”
    Edwin sampled the contents of his glass, savoring the rich taste of apples mingled with the fiery heat of brandy. “Nectar of the gods,” he delcared, barely repressing an urge to lick the residue coating his lips. “I wasn’t aware that you’d travelled abroad, sir.”
    “Decades ago, between wars. My father sent me to the Channel Islands to pick up a few cider-brewing secrets, and from there it ’twas but a short sail to Normandy. I drank Calvados night and day—and would still, if Mrs. Dundrige didn’t demand moderation.” Setting down his glass, he said on a pensive note, “Our Annis should also see France someday, though I doubt she ever shall.”
    Edwin lifted his head. “This war won’t last forever.”
    “I pray not, for it has wrecked our foreign trade. Even if ’twere peacetime, the girl and her mother together would resist any suggestion that she should travel. A pity.”
    Edwin was seized by a powerful and inexplicable desire to take the squire’s stepdaughter on an extended foreign tour. But not until he’d shown her the part of Somersetshire where he’d grown up, and only after she’d seen London and its many splendors.
    “In fact,” Dundridge continued, “our Annis is the subject I want to discuss with you. For some time now I’ve contemplated the purchase of a horse. Oh, she’s got her pony Pippin, adequate for hacking about the farm. But to my mind she deserves a mount more worthy of a young lady. And you’ve got the finest bloodstock in the neighborhood.
    “I daresay I can provide an animal that will suit Miss Kelland. What are her requirements?”
    “I couldn’t say. I’ve not broached the subject to her, lest she object to my plan. She’s too polite to refuse a gift, especially if it comes as a surprise. Even if it comes from me,” he added, his voice tinged with regret.
    Edwin, struck by his sorrowful demeanor, surmised that relations between the squire and his stepdaughter were not as comfortable as he’d always supposed.
    “I’d prefer that Annis to try