Chapter 3

Ambrose

Daniel blew out a puff of smoke from his cheroot and turned to face him with a mischievous grin. "Ambrose, just the person I wanted to see. May I walk with you to wherever you are going?"

Ambrose regarded Daniel with dismay. He could not refuse him without sounding churlish even though it would put pay to all his good intentions of steering clear of the man. With a faint tightening of his lips, he replied, "Of course, though it is getting dark, and I am only going a short way down the avenue to my home, Ivy Cottage."

"Is that the pretty cottage at the end of this road?"

Ambrose inclined his head. "Yes, it is."

"Perfect. Well, let us go."

Ambrose prevaricated a moment longer, then with a resigned sigh, he began to walk side by side with Daniel Stanton. Deciding it was best to take the bull by the horns, he queried, "Is there something you wish to discuss with me, Daniel?"

"Yes, there is," replied the other man unhesitatingly.

Ambrose glanced at him enquiringly when he did not immediately elucidate on the matter. Daniel met that glance with another of his quizzical smiles and took a pull on his cheroot. "First of all," he said, blowing out tendrils of smoke, "I would like to get to know you better. I have heard so much of you from Grandfather's letters that I have been quite agog with curiosity about the person that inspires such admiration in him."

"I hold the earl in high esteem, and I believe the sentiment is mutual, but I cannot believe that talk of me would excite such interest as you profess to have," demurred Ambrose.

"And that is where you are wrong," retorted Daniel. "Every letter from Grandfather these past few years has had mentions of ‘Cranshaw did this' or ‘Cranshaw did that'. I confess I have grown quite jealous at times."

Ambrose was quick to reply, "I should point out that the earl speaks of you and your father just as often. He is immensely proud of all your achievements."

A fond smile came over Daniel's face. "I am glad," he said simply. Then, directing his piercing gaze on Ambrose, he added, "With such talk of us from Grandfather, it almost feels as if we know one another already."

"In which case, there is no need to go to the effort of getting to know me," parried Ambrose with an ironic raise of his brow.

Daniel burst out laughing. "Oh, Ambrose, there is every need. All I have are the broad outlines of your character. Now, I wish to fill in the details."

Despite the chill of the evening, Ambrose felt his face warm once again. "I confess I still do not see why there is such a need to do so," he persisted. "I am merely an employee of this estate and not someone of import to you."

"You will let me be the judge of that, Ambrose." Daniel's tone sounded a little stern. They walked on in silence a moment more, their path faintly illuminated by the flaxen-coloured moon above and by the red flare on the tip of Daniel's cheroot as he smoked. The spicy scent of it wafted towards Ambrose, mingling with faint traces of a lemony cologne. The combination was dizzyingly seductive. Then Daniel spoke. "I would also beg a favour from you."

"What is it?"

"I would like, if I may, to accompany you on your work around the estate." On seeing Ambrose's doubtful look, Daniel went on, "I will not interfere in any way, merely be an observer. It will be useful in learning about this land which has belonged to my family for generations."

The request made sense, and with any other person, Ambrose would have been quick to assent. But it would mean spending time with a man he had decided to avoid as best he could, for it was clear that Daniel represented a danger to Ambrose's equanimity—he did not care to confess to himself why. However, he could not refuse his employer's grandson.

"Very well," he said, unable to hide the reluctance in his voice.

"You do not need to sound so enthusiastic about it. I assure you, I well know that my company is a rare delight indeed."

Ambrose forced a smile. "I am sure it is, and I look forward to showing you around the estate," he muttered, staring straight ahead.

He felt Daniel's scrutiny in the feeble light. The other man's voice had lost its levity as he said, "I feel, Ambrose, that we have got on the wrong foot. Let us start again." He stopped and faced him, bowing most correctly. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Mr Cranshaw," he said in a formal tone. "I have heard many good things of you from my grandfather. I hope we will have a chance to further this acquaintance over the coming weeks."

Daniel straightened and looked at him expectantly. Ambrose stared back, stubbornly resisting the olive branch. Undeterred, Daniel took a puff on his cheroot and waited him out. An impasse. Were they to wait here all night? This man was infuriating. With a sigh up to the heavens, Ambrose complied. He bowed, equally correctly, and replied in the same formal tone, "The honour is mine, Mr Stanton. I too look forward to furthering our acquaintance."

Daniel beamed in delight. "There now, that was not so difficult!"

Ambrose could not prevent the upward curve of his own lips. The man's charm was hard to ignore, especially with those dimples that appeared each time he smiled. They resumed their walk towards Ivy Cottage, and Daniel began in a conversational voice, "Tell me something about yourself, Mr Cranshaw. Do you hail from these parts?"

"No," responded Ambrose. "I grew up in Leicestershire, in a small village to the east of Melton Mowbray. My father was the vicar there."

"A clergyman's son! That would explain the moral virtues my grandfather likes to extol about you."

Ambrose's lips twitched. "I have met more than one debauched parson's son in my time, so my father's profession is, I feel, beside the point."

"I am going to have to disagree there," riposted Daniel, pointing the remaining stub of his cheroot at him. "You exude moral rectitude, Mr Cranshaw, which I am sure was instilled by your good parent."

"You make it sound like it is a disagreeable thing to have," remarked Ambrose.

Now it was Daniel's lips that twitched. "How can it ever be bad to be good, Mr Cranshaw?"

"Touché," said Ambrose, amused. The two men exchanged a smiling glance.

"And you pursued your studies at Oxford?" enquired Daniel, continuing his friendly inquisition.

"Yes, I studied classics and mathematics at Oxford. It was in my second year there that Father passed away after a short illness, leaving me to care for my younger sister. I was faced then with a difficult decision. I could not bring her back to live with me in my communal lodgings at the university, and for a time, it seemed as if I would have to abandon my studies to find some form of employment that would provide us both with a roof over our heads." Ambrose was not sure why he was spilling so many details of his life when a short answer would have sufficed.

"But in the end, you were able to complete your studies?" Daniel probed gently.

"Yes, and it was due to your grandfather's intercession. He is great friends with the proctor of my college and had come to visit. I suppose the story of my predicament must have been aired at some point during their dinner, for next day, the proctor came to me with a solution. The earl would provide my sister and I with room and board at his Oxford house for the remaining duration of my studies on two conditions. Firstly, that I was to complete my degree and distinguish myself with First Class honours. Secondly, I was to pledge a year in his employ, assisting his estate manager, Mr Finlay, in his work."

"Your proctor must have spoken of you in glowing terms to Grandfather for him to have taken such action," remarked Daniel. "It is another example of your stellar reputation preceding you, Mr Cranshaw."

"Or perhaps it is another example of your grandfather's generosity," countered Ambrose. "He is a good man."

"That he is," agreed Daniel, "but to single you out for such favour, having no previous acquaintance with you, makes me think that word of your excellence must have reached his ears."

"That may be so," hedged Ambrose. "It has long been clear to me that as a gentleman with no independent financial means, the only assets within my grasp are a good education and my good name. I have worked tirelessly to develop both."

Daniel cast a warm glance in his direction. "I find that admirable, Mr Cranshaw."

"I do not think it is admirable so much as an acknowledgement of reality. One must be rational about one's situation and make the best of what one is given. I do not have wealth, but I have been blessed with intellectual acumen. It made sense to nurture such a gift."

"Yes, I see," said Daniel throwing down the last remnant of his cheroot to the ground and crushing it under his boot. "So I take it, your university days were not spent carousing with the other young bucks."

"No indeed," laughed Ambrose. "Mine was a staid college experience, by necessity, for I am not naturally inclined to martyrdom. Sons of wealthy noblemen, much like yourself, could afford to spend their evenings frolicking to their heart's content, but not me. Alas the maintenance of my grades and scholarship took precedence, not to mention the need to uphold my reputation."

"Is that how you think I spent my time at Yale, Mr Cranshaw? Frolicking?" Daniel's eyes danced with mischief in the pale moonlight.

"I cannot say, Mr Stanton," replied Ambrose primly. "I have only my experience at Oxford to go on."

Ivy Cottage was now within view. They walked towards it in silence, Daniel nursing a mysterious smile which showed off those charming dimples again. Hell and damnation! Ambrose should not be paying attention to such things.

At length, Daniel spoke reminiscently, "You are right. There was certainly some frolicking. Those were happy and carefree days I will always remember fondly. Although I would have you know that I did not altogether neglect my studies. There is, I feel, a balance to be struck between duty and pleasure."

"I agree," smiled Ambrose. "Where one has the means to indulge in pleasurable activities, one should, though not to excess. As I said before, my sedate lifestyle was not due to any love of self-denial but to necessity." He paused at the small wooden gate that led to Ivy Cottage's front door.

Daniel eyed him searchingly. "And now that you are well-established here at Stanton Hall, do you indulge in pleasurable activities, Mr Cranshaw?"

"I cannot complain, Mr Stanton. I must confess to taking great pleasure in drinking some of the earl's fine sherry of an evening while reading a book from the Stanton Hall library."

Daniel continued to observe him closely. "And how about frolicking?" he asked softly.

No, he was not going to blush again from the heat of that gaze. Could Daniel be implying he wanted to frolic with him? Oh the danger of this man! It was imperative to bring this conversation to a swift end. With an effort, Ambrose met those dark, questing eyes with a hard stare of his own. In an even tone, he said, "I am partial to dining in the company of my friends, one of which, by the by, awaits me at home this evening. As for frolicking… I shall leave that sort of activity to you, Mr Stanton."

Was that a look of disappointment on Daniel's face? If so, it was quickly gone. With a mocking inclination of his head, he let the matter drop and said instead, "So tomorrow, I shall accompany you on your rounds around the estate."

"I start my work very early in the morning," warned Ambrose.

"All the better," smiled Daniel. "I am an early riser. I shall be ready whenever you call at Stanton Hall."

"Very well. Until tomorrow, Mr Stanton."

"Until tomorrow, Mr Cranshaw." With another inclination of his head, Daniel pivoted on his heels and strode away.

Ambrose watched him disappear in the dim light of the moon, wondering what the morrow had in store for him. Then, giving himself an internal shake of the head, he turned and walked to his front door.