Page 29

William crossed the short distance to the barn with purposeful strides. The dew on the grass glistened in the early morning sunlight. It would not be more than an hour before the sun rose high enough to warm the day. By then, he hoped Charlotte would have awoken and he could finally visit her.

The positive reports he’d received from Mrs. Underhill and his mother when he’d arrived home late last night were everything he’d prayed for, and they had helped allay his overarching concern for the young lady. And yet, he wished to see the color in her cheeks with his own eyes, hear that she was well from her own lips. In truth, he simply wished to be with her.

Despite the early hour, the barn door was open. It did not surprise him. Ralph was undoubtedly checking on the new lambs before starting his work in the fields. William stepped inside. The familiar rustle of animals in their stalls was punctuated by a single bleat and the low rumble of Ralph’s voice.

“That’s it, miss. Keep it nice ’n’ steady, jus’ like that.”

“Ralph?” William scanned the open space, searching for the shepherd in the dim light. Movement in the stall to his left caught his eye, and Ralph’s head appeared above the upper slats.

“’Mornin’, m’lord.”

“Good morning. How are the lambs today?”

“Gettin’ along nicely. The only one I’ve bin worryin’ about is the little fella who got rejected, but ’e’s taken a likin’ to Miss Densley, and she’s managed t’ persuade ’im t’ take the bubby pot right well.”

William stared at him. “When did Miss Densley feed him?”

“Well, she’s doin’ it now, m’lord.”

William was at the shepherd’s side immediately. Ralph stepped aside to allow him a clear view inside the stall. Charlotte, dressed in a pale green floral gown, was sitting on a small stool in the corner. A brown wool blanket lay across her knee, and sitting on it was the lamb they’d rescued. In her hand, she held the bubby pot. The spout was pressed to the lamb’s mouth, and the little creature was avidly guzzling the milk dripping from the scrap of fabric on the spout’s end.

He stepped into the stall, his gaze shifting from the lamb to Charlotte. Her blue eyes met his and she smiled. His heartbeat quickened. Lud, she was beautiful.

“Whatever are you doing here?” he asked.

The lamb flinched.

“Feeding Snow,” she whispered. “Shhh. He’s almost finished.”

William stood, silently watching as the lamb finished the last of the milk.

Charlotte set the bubby pot down. “He took it all, Ralph,” she said.

The shepherd gave her an almost-toothless smile. “That’s grand, miss.” He reached for the squirming lamb. “I’ll put ’im back with the others, then.”

She relinquished the animal and blanket, rose to her feet, and brushed a few pieces of straw off her gown.

With a slight nod directed at William, Ralph carried the lamb out of the stall and headed toward the back of the barn. Charlotte watched him go and then slowly turned to face William. The air stilled between them.

“You named the lamb Snow,” William said. Given that all intelligent thought had unaccountably fled his mind, it was the best he could manage.

“Yes.” She shrugged slightly. “It seemed fitting since the puppy that started my adventures at Tribbley Hall is called Soot.”

“I’m afraid young Soot has a great deal to answer for.”

The smile he had expected did not come. Instead, she lowered her head.

“I believe I do too,” she said. “Because of me, you were unable to capture Mr. Ryland, and you lost a valuable horse. Forgive me. I owe you my life but have repaid you very poorly.”

He closed the distance between them, placed his finger beneath her chin, and gently raised it until she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Charlotte, you have nothing to apologize for. It was your quick thinking and observational skills that spared the sheep Ryland took yesterday. Not only that, you helped save Snow.” A hint of a smile touched her lips at his use of the name she’d given the lamb. Encouraged, he continued. “Were it not for you, we would still be searching for an unknown thief. As it is, Mr. Wellington is currently escorting Mr. Ryland to Norwich to face charges of sheep stealing, and Thomas has reclaimed my horse from his stable.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He smiled. “Mr. Wellington came to the house yesterday to ask if I would assist in locating Mr. Ryland. I had hoped to speak with you after you awoke last afternoon, but by the time I returned, it was too late.”

“I … I watched for you, hoping that you would come.”