Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand by Carla Kelly Page B

only one horse resided within. "That is Mr. Winslow's horse," Helen offered, then leaned down confidentially. "He's not really much of a horse." She touched his shoulder, her eyes lively. "But Mr. Winslow is not much of a rider."
    They chuckled in conspiratorial fashion and then he lifted her off his horse. Helen skipped ahead to a loose box and opened the gate. "You could put him in here, my lord," she said.
    He led his horse into the box and Helen closed the gate. He leaned on the gate, regarding his horse. "My dear, surely this box already belongs to another horse. It is all set up with hay, corn, and water. I thought you said there were no horses here usually?"
    Helen blushed and looked at her feet. "I fixed it that way. I like to pretend I have a horse." She looked up at him then. "Mama thinks I am helping the housekeeper over here, but sometimes I come to the stables instead."
    "I'll never tell," he promised, and crossed his heart. In another moment, she was gone.
    "Helen, you are a fairy sprite," he murmured, and turned back to his horse again.
    "Lord Winn! I thought I saw you from the bookroom window!"
    He turned around to see his bailiff, Tibbie Winslow, standing in the door of the shed. Winslow came toward him with that dignity that he recognized as pure Yorkshire, and held out his hand. "It's been a few years, hasn't it, my lord?"
    Winn nodded. "A few, Tibbie." He looked around him. "You seem to be well in control here."
    "I can show you better in the bookroom, my lord. Ledgers are all right and tight, and we had a good harvest, we did. Will you join me inside? I know you're a busy man, going from estate to estate. I'll not hold you up here at Moreland."
    "Certainly, Tibbie. I will only be here a few days, and I do need a prompt inventory." Lord Winn followed his bailiff to the stable door, then stopped. "Tell me, where can I find a pony?"

Chapter 6
    From an upstairs window, Roxanna watched Lord Winn and Helen leave the dower house, her heart lifting to see her daughter lean down from atop his horse to speak to him. She hugged herself and shivered, even as she smiled. Oh, Helen, how good to see you in conversation with someone again, Roxanna thought.
    She made Helen's bed quickly, fluffing the pillows, then went to her own room. Lord Winn was obviously not there, but she felt a moment's reticence in opening the door. In a way she could not understand, it seemed to be his room, too, and not hers alone.
    "Of course, Roxanna, this is his house," she reminded herself as she opened the door and closed it behind her. She bit her lip in dismay. The coal she had rationed out for him was still sitting in the scuttle. "Lord Winn, you will think I am such a nip-farthing."
    Well, you are, Roxie, she thought as she went to the bureau. You have another month to go in this quarter, and then you can face the reality of what damage your brother-in-law will have done to your next quarter's stipend. It was a discouraging thought, so she forced her mind into other channels. Bad news could always keep.
    Lord Winn had left his shaving mirror on the bureau, and there were his soap and brush. She swished the brush around in the washbasin, breathing deep of its fragrance, trying to remember when she had last smelled shaving soap. Toward the end, it had been too painful to shave Anthony, so she had stopped. She picked up the soap container. " 'Limón de España,' " she read, " 'un jabón de hidalgos.' The soap of gentlemen." She sniffed again, enjoying the lemon fragrance, more than slightly tart, and as subtle as a bolt of lightning. "Nice," she decided as she screwed on the lid, dried the brush, and replaced his shaving gear in its leather pouch with the razor. Helen would probably enjoy another trip to the estate to return it to him.
    She looked around to make sure he had not left anything else, and discovered his spectacles on her night table. There was no case for them, so she wrapped them in a handkerchief of hers and placed them on