Chapter 5

Ambrose

Next morning, Ambrose woke early as usual and partook of his breakfast. As he ate, he reflected on dinner yesterday evening. He and Sarah had been joined by their childhood friend, Benedict Sedgwick, who had recently moved to Stanton Harcourt to take on the position of curate in the village. It was Ambrose that had put a good word in for him with the earl and helped him obtain this position.

Ambrose had recommended Benedict without hesitation, for he knew him as a good, conscientious person who would, he was certain, fulfil his pastoral duties admirably. Benedict was a few years younger than him, the same age as Sarah. In fact, he was more Sarah's friend than his. They shared the same passion for engineering and science, whereas Ambrose's interests lay more in literature and philosophy.

Not for the first time, Ambrose wondered if that friendship between Benedict and Sarah would ever blossom into something more. He could not help but worry about his sister's future. At the age of twenty-five, she gave all the indications of settling down into spinsterhood. He sincerely hoped that would not be the case and that some worthy man would one day propose marriage. Such a marriage would also put pay to her long-standing and hopeless infatuation with Mr Philip Templeton, a wealthy local landowner with a reputation for womanising.

Breakfast over, he fetched his hat and coat, then stepped out the door into the misty morning air. He started a brisk walk towards Stanton Hall. With each step forward, he could no longer put off thoughts of that man he had met yesterday. Last night, as he had lain in his bed, he had rationalised his interactions with Daniel Stanton.

This was a man born to privilege, and it was clear that he used his forceful charm to get everything he wanted. It was no wonder that he had raised Ambrose's hackles. No two people could be more different. On one side there was himself—deferent, working hard for every penny he earned, ever conscious of his precarious position in society. And then there was Daniel Stanton—powerful, authoritative and entitled, not to mention he was also too handsome for his own good. He and Ambrose were like oil and water, so it was unsurprising that they had not mixed well.

No matter, thought Ambrose now as he strode purposefully towards Stanton Hall. The young pup would be here a few weeks or months at most then return to his home in America. Ambrose would then be able to put aside the impossible feelings that Daniel had awoken in him. It was not him that would become his employer once the earl passed away, but his father, who was a sensible man. All Ambrose had to do was show Daniel around the estate, ignore his atrociously forward manner and maintain a courteous demeanour. That should not be too difficult a task. Persuading himself that there was no more to it than that, Ambrose hurried up the front steps and rang the bell.

The door was opened by Siddons a short time later. "Good morning, sir," the butler said, letting him into the entrance hall.

Ambrose smiled cheerfully. "Good morning, Siddons. I hope I find you well today."

"A touch of my usual rheumatism, sir, but I will not complain," replied Siddons.

"Perhaps this will help," said Ambrose, producing a small jar of ointment from the pocket of his coat. "Sarah made me swear not to forget to bring you this remedy for your joints. She says it worked wonders for Mr Phipps's painful knees."

Siddons took the jar, a pleased expression on his face. "That is very thoughtful of Miss Cranshaw," he said. "Please do thank her for me."

"I shall. Now, to business. I am here to see Mr Daniel Stanton. I believe he wishes to accompany on my ride around the estate today."

Siddons inclined his head. "He has asked that I show you in the moment you arrive." With this, Siddons led Ambrose towards the dining room, opening the door ceremoniously. "Mr Cranshaw to see you," he said, stepping back to allow Ambrose inside.

Ambrose walked into the room, dominated by a large rectangular-shaped table, to find Daniel Stanton seated beside his mother, their breakfast finished. At his entrance, they both stood politely.

"Mr Cranshaw," smiled Lady Stanton. "How good to see you. Please do take a seat. May I offer you a coffee?"

Ambrose bowed in her direction then in Daniel's, before sliding into a seat across from them. "Good morning to you both," replied Ambrose good naturedly. "And yes please, I would be grateful for a cup of coffee."

As Lady Stanton went to pour him the coffee, Ambrose felt her son's fixed regard on him. He forced himself to look in his direction, which turned out to be not such a good idea. Dark eyes gleamed at him with an emotion he could not quite fathom. All at once, he felt flustered, stumbling on his words as he said, "Good morning, Mr Stanton. Erm, are you looking forward to riding around the estate today?"

"Very much so," said Daniel silkily. "Whereabouts will we be going?"

"I—erm, have calls to make to the tenants on the land that lies south east from here, towards Mulverley Grange, one of the manor houses on the estate. Erm—I shall need to make a stop there too, as it has recently been vacated by its tenants and there are a few repairs I need to look into."

"It is so very kind of you to let Daniel accompany you on your work, Mr Cranshaw," enthused Lady Stanton.

Ambrose took a sip of his coffee then set down his cup carefully. "Not at all," he said courteously. "It is my pleasure to do so." He would not look in his direction. He would not—but unwillingly, he found himself doing just that.

Daniel grinned at him, showing off those mesmerising dimples. "I cannot wait," he said smoothly. "If you are done with your coffee, let us be on our way."

"Of course." Ambrose gulped the rest of his drink and stood.

"Have a good day, Mr Cranshaw," said Lady Stanton kindly. She turned to her son. "And you too, Daniel. I shall see you when we get back from our trip to Witney."

As Ambrose watched, all trace of wicked mischief left Daniel's face. He bent down to kiss his mother's cheek, love radiating from his eyes as he teased, "Enjoy your shopping trip, Ma. Do try not to buy half the contents of the bookshop there."

She chuckled. "I shall try, but you know how I am once I enter a shop with books."

"I do," he laughed. "Do remember though, there is only so much baggage we can take back with us to America."

She touched his cheek fondly. "I shall endeavour to do so. Now off with you."

Something about this exchange did strange things to Ambrose's heart. Maybe it was the poignant reminder of the much loved parents he had lost. Be that as it may, he felt himself soften towards Daniel. No person who looked at his mother that way could be so terrible.

A few minutes later, he revised that opinion. Walking side by side on their way to the stable, Daniel let his glance slide over him from head to toe, then stated softly, "You are looking very handsome today, Ambrose. I almost feel I am walking in the presence of an angel."

Ambrose was at a loss for words. "I—err…"

"It's quite alright, beautiful one. You do not need to say anything."

"Will you please stop calling me such names!" spluttered Ambrose, speech finally having returned. "It is not at all the thing."

"And why not? I am only stating the truth. You do look divine."

Ambrose stopped in his tracks and turned to face him, face heated. Was the young pup mocking him? Drawing himself up to his full height, he said stiffly, "I do not know, sir, what it is you are trying to do by saying such things to me, but I would ask you to please stop."

"Does it discomfort you that I think you are beautiful?" There was an urgency in Daniel's tone, almost as if it was important that Ambrose believe him.

"It does," gritted Ambrose. "I am a man, not a young miss to be wooed with compliments."

"Why is beauty only the preserve of women?" challenged Daniel, arguing his case with unwarranted fervour. "And why is it only females that can be wooed? I will have you know that I would be happy indeed to have someone compliment my looks." Daniel struck a pose with hands on his hips. "In fact, now would be your chance to do so. Does not this new riding suit fit me admirably well?"

"Mr Stanton!"

"Well, Ambrose, what do you think? Does it not flatter my muscular physique?"

Unwillingly, Ambrose let his gaze travel up Daniel's extremely fine form. Yes, he did look exceedingly good, but he was not about to tell him so. "That is beside the point," he said quellingly. "I do not engage in flattery with other males."

"Why do you say it is beside the point?" demanded Daniel. "Do you think I look good, Ambrose, or not? I would think that was very much the point."

Ambrose cast his eyes down as he ground out, "Sir, I will ask you again to desist from making such remarks. I—I do not look upon fellow men in that way. I hope you get my meaning."

He felt Daniel's stare burrow into him. He heard the man's ragged breaths. Then in a rough voice, Daniel spoke, unutterable words gushing forth from his mouth. "Are you telling me, Ambrose, that you are not attracted to me? I am an adult, you know, and capable of bearing the rejection. Just tell me the truth. But before you do, let me give you my own truth. I too am not in the habit of looking at my fellow men that way, but it is different with you. From the moment I first met you, I have felt an inexplicable attraction. I want you, Ambrose, and I am unashamed to say it. Now speak."

By the latter parts of this speech, Ambrose's eyes had flown up to stare at Daniel. No man had ever spoken to him that way, nor had he ever dreamed that one could. His mind was awash with a maelstrom of emotions—confusion, horror and unbidden elation. The words of outright rejection were on his lips, but they would not come out. Instead, he stood as if struck dumb.

Daniel's severe expression softened. "It's alright, Ambrose," he murmured. "I can see you are not ready yet to say the words. I have been too hasty in speaking out." He gave an unamused bark of laughter. "If I have one fault, it is impatience. Let us leave the matter here. We will come back to it another time. Come now, let us be on our way." With that, he strode towards the stable, and Ambrose let his feet follow him, still in a disbelieving trance.

Was he dreaming? Had his employer's grandson propositioned him just now? Called him beautiful and divine? It was beyond belief. He must have imagined it. His heart pounded in his chest in fear and delight, but mostly fear.

He had known from the moment he met Daniel Stanton that this man was dangerous to his wellbeing, that it would be best to keep well away from him. And he had been proved right. That man was brazenly opening the Pandora's box of feelings Ambrose had strived all his adult life to keep shut. It needed to stay shut. It was imperative those forbidden sentiments were stamped out. Lips tight with furious determination, Ambrose made his way to the stable and without a word, mounted his horse.