to Amy that without her shift he would be looking at her bare back where the dress gaped. She didn't know why that seemed so dangerous, but it did.
"It doesn't matter," she said quickly.
"Hold on," he said, hands on her shoulders again, but impersonally. "I can fix it with my cravat pin."
Amy pulled herself out of his hold. "Don't be silly! That would set the cat among the pigeons."
He grinned. "I suppose it would. Never mind. It's only a small gap and it will be covered by the blanket. All set?"
As they walked down the passage toward the door, he said, "Look, there's an old pair of pattens here, belonged to Corny's aunt. Do you want to borrow them?"
"I think my shoes are past protection, but the pattens may keep me out of the mud." She tied them on and found the fit tolerable. The iron rings raised her a good three inches so that her eyes rose from his chin to his nose. She wasn't sure why this seemed significant.
She turned and clink, clink, clinked her way to the door.
"I don't know why you women insist on wearing those things," he said. "A pair of boots would be better."
Amy turned. "And needing a jack to get in and out of. Not very practical for a farm woman who's in and out all the time."
"And who has to clean the floors," he acknowledged. "I see what you mean."
He opened the door and they went out. The air was heavy with moisture and chill, too, but the wind had died down. Within her blanket, Amy was not too cold, though she knew her legs and feet would soon be frigid.
She was more concerned, however, with pondering this man's reaction to her contradiction. Experience had taught her that men did not like being told they'd said something silly, but she always forgot and told them anyway. This Mr. Crisp hadn't seemed to mind at all.
They crossed the muddy, bepuddled yard to a stile. Amy had to take his hand as she climbed over it, and the touch reminded her of that kiss. She looked at him, met his eyes, and looked away. This would not do at all.
They followed a footpath across a field of sheep and lambs, and Amy was glad of the pattens, which kept her feet above the soggy ground. The sheep watched the humans as they passed; the lambs gamboled forward and back, daring each other toward danger.
"Lambs are endearing, aren't they?" he said.
Amy thought so, too, but wanted no part of sweet sentiment today. "It's a shame they'll soon look as stupid as their mothers," she said flatly, "or end up as roast or stew."
He looked at her sharply. She met his eyes and saw his shock. That should nip any romantic nonsense in the bud.
But she was aware of a leaning toward sentiment herself, a desire to delight in lambs and courting birds, spring flowers and pretty ballads. She stamped on it firmly. She had to be ruthlessly practical.
It all came of having such an impractical family. How could she give in to nonsense when she had a brother who spent his book money on lottery tickets, sisters who believed that wishes would come true, and a father who had given no thought to the future.
Sir Digby had not been a desperate, haggard debtor; he'd been as happy as a bee in honey as long as he could somehow continue to provide fine wines, rich food, silk dresses, and prime horses for his family.
Amy couldn't understand such a mentality at all.
"Don't look so worried," her companion said. "It'll take me no time at all to ride over to your place and reassure your family."
She realized they must have been walking for some time. They were coming to the end of the sheep pasture; Coppice Farm was behind some trees, and another, more prosperous farm was ahead at the top of the rise. Presumably Ashridge.
"I'm sorry. I was woolgathering."
He smiled. "Very appropriate among a field of sheep, and these seem to have a fine thick fleece."
They came to a gate. As he opened it he picked a long tuft of wool from the hedge. After they were through and the gate was securely shut, he gave it to her with a smile. "A fleece for your thoughts?"
She took it and rubbed it between her fingers, feeling the grease in it. "Just family troubles, Mr. Crisp." She determined to make sure he had no illusions. "You'll doubtless have