Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,16

for a moment I doubted what I saw. It’s so rare and unusual. But I closed my eyes and then opened them again, and he was still there.”

“Who?”

“The peacock.”

“The what?”

“The peacock. I saw a peacock standing amongst the shrubberies. His tail feathers were lying down, but he had the blue breast and crown and those long stick legs. And now you must think me completely mad.”

“You’re not mad. I thought all the peacocks were gone.”

“All the peacocks?” she said, jumping to her feet. “There are more?”

He rose to his feet as well. “No. Don’t go traipsing about looking for peacocks. No wonder you forget your chores. I said I thought they were all gone.”

“But why were they here? Where did they go? Oh, damn it!” He blinked, and she realized she shouldn’t have cursed. “I mean, drat it. I must take my leave. Now I shall never know about the peacocks.” She would think about that peacock for days. Perhaps someone in Milcroft knew why peacocks were at Wentmore. But then she’d have to explain why she’d gone to Wentmore—again—when she’d been told to stay away.

“You could come back,” Mr. Pope said, seeming almost surprised at his own words.

“I could?”

He shrugged. “If you want.” Clearly, he did not care if he ever met her again.

“If I come back, you will tell me about the peacock?” She was not too proud to admit she wanted the story of the peacock and a chance at another sighting. She wouldn’t mind seeing Mr. Pope again either. He was a strange and all but intoxicating mixture of gruff and genteel. She liked the contrast.

“I might,” he said.

Pru rolled her eyes. Men were so difficult. But two could play at this game. “Then I might come back. Good afternoon, Mr. Pope.” She started away, waving. Of course, he didn’t wave back. He can’t see you, numbskull, she told herself. Still, she walked until she was out of sight of the house then she picked up her skirts and ran.

When she reached the wooden bridge leading into the village, she slowed, stuck her bonnet back onto her head and tied the ribbons under her chin. She pressed a hand to her belly, trying to slow her breathing then made her way toward the vicarage, smiling at the people she saw and trying to look as though she had all the time in the world.

“Oh, there you are!” Mrs. Blimkin said when Pru slid into the kitchen. Mrs. Blinkin stood at a table in the center of the kitchen, copper pots and pans and herbs dangling above her head. She was carefully placing dough into a pie pan. “The vicar was looking for you.”

“Oh?” Pru tried to sound innocent. “Why?”

“Something about sweeping the front room.”

A-ha! That was what he’d asked her to do.

“I told him I swept it this morning as I always do.” Mrs. Blimkin pressed the edges of the dough, creating scalloped edges. “But he obviously thinks I can’t do even the simplest tasks anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s not that, Mrs. Blimkin. No doubt Mr. Higginbotham feels I need some responsibility.”

Mrs. Blimkin gave her a sideways look that implied she thought the same. Pru sighed and made her way to the front room with the broom. The door to Mr. Higginbotham’s library was closed, which meant he was either sleeping or working. Pru would have wagered he was asleep in his chair with a volume of sermons resting on his chest.

Pru began to sweep the already clean floor. She liked the vicar well enough. He was a kind man, although old-fashioned. This was to be expected, considering he was old enough to be her grandfather. He had ideas about what young ladies should read and what dinner topics were acceptable conversation. He thought Pru should make an effort to call on the families in the village—in particular those who gave generously to the church—and have tea with their daughters. Pru had tried to make friends when she’d first arrived, but her overtures had not been welcomed or returned.

Still, she couldn’t spend the next few years sweeping a clean floor. She had to find something to do. And it was probably best if that something was not calling on the dashing Mr. Pope. She was already planning when she could sneak away and return to Wentmore. She wanted to hear about those peacocks, but more than that she enjoyed spending time with Mr. Pope. He was so serious and rather dangerous, and she had a bad habit