Lady Hannah's Holiday (Spirited Storms #5) (The Spirited Storms)

by Jane Charles

  He’d been intrigued and attracted to Lady Hannah in London and had gone out of his way in an attempt to court her, even though he’d been turned away each time. In the end, he’d gotten on with his life and hadn’t dwelt on her absence like some lovesick poet. So certainly, his attachment to her wasn’t so strong.

  Or, it hadn’t been until Barbados.

  His finding Lady Hannah here had truly been delightful, and Ashton looked forward to coming to know her better, but sometime between that first dinner and their stroll, something more had developed within him that he wasn’t certain had a name.

  He’d never been irritated at not being able to call on a woman before, but he was irritated now. He wanted to see Lady Hannah. It was almost a need, especially since he couldn’t see for himself how she faired after the sun had caused her face to pinken.

  He worried. Was she in pain? Ill even?

  Who was seeing to her care?

  And, when did she become so bloody important to him?

  Was it simply because they were now courting, betrothed?

  She still didn’t know of the pending marriage, which didn’t set well with him. But, after she readily admitted to her stubbornness, Ashton now understood why the Storm twins insisted on secrecy. However, after their future was set, he’d not deceive her again. It simply wasn’t right to do so.

  Still, none of that explained why Ashton longed to see Hannah.

  Had he developed deeper feelings for her?

  He’d certainly developed passion and had played their kiss over in his mind. The two would be well matched in intimacies. At least he assumed. Even though he could tell that Lady Hannah had little to no experience in kissing, she’d matched him in passion and when he pulled her against him, her body molded to his, as if they were created for the other.

  If anything, yesterday proved that he didn’t wish for a long courtship. They were suited and it wasn’t something his heart was telling him, but his gut. Now, he only needed to convince Hannah since she was the one who didn’t want to rush into a marriage.

  Saturday came and went with no word from Ashton. Of course, if his feet were in such poor condition, such as her shoulders, she might not see him for days, which irritated Hannah to no end. And as Sunday dawned and her family prepared for services, she was hard pressed not to pout. Even though some of her redness had faded, the skin had begun to flick off her shoulders in a most unattractive manner. And, she itched, but Hannah did her best not to scratch the tender, flaky skin, but at moments, it was maddening not to do so.

  Her two options were wearing clothing that would cover the injury, but her skin was still too tender and itchy, or wear a dress that didn’t rub against her skin, but then the flakes would be on display. As neither option offered comfort, Hannah decided to remain at home.

  However, if she learned that Ashton had managed to attend services, she’d be quite put out that she’d remained home since she’d dearly love to see him.

  With a sigh, Hannah refreshed her cup of tea and wandered onto the veranda, being careful to remain in the shade.

  It was a glorious day and she usually enjoyed being left to herself, but instead, she was uneasy.

  Was it because she’d not seen Ashton? If so, the revelation was quite surprising. Yes, she’d wanted him to court her in London. He claimed to be courting her here, but she’d not seen him.

  Hannah shook the thoughts away. Not claimed but was courting her and only kept away because he couldn’t wear his boots.

  Still, this was so very odd as she’d never been one to fret or be out of sorts if ignored by a gentleman. Not that Ashton was ignoring her but recovering. Still, she’d had so little patience for the misses in London when they’d whined after going a day without seeing their love and Hannah had vowed never to become like them. Yet, here she was, on the veranda, sipping her tea and pouting. Further, self-doubt had begun to seep into her conscious.

  What if he was having second thoughts? What if he hadn’t enjoyed the beach as much as she? What if her behavior had been so scandalous, which it had been, that Ashton was having second thoughts as to her moral character?

  Goodness, stubbornness, which she suffered from, was an unattractive trait but rolling around on the beach with a gentleman one was not married to was nearly immoral.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been the one with her because women were held to much higher standards and gentlemen were always forgiven for their baser needs.

  Hannah had never in her life given in to self-doubt, but it was there today, and she needed to remind herself that this was simply a courtship, nothing more. A chance to come to know one another before they decided on a more permanent attachment and as much as she vowed to be happy above all else, and not accept the first offer that came along like so many, her heart ached for him. Hannah wanted Ashton to want her as much as she wanted him.

  “Blast!” she stood and set her teacup aside.

  Happiness comes from within and a person you choose who can only add to that happiness. If Ashton isn’t the one, then she’ll find another or be happy with herself!

  Chapter 13

  By Sunday morning Ashton was still unable to wear his Hessians with any comfort and was forced to write a note of apology to Mr. Silas Palmer with a promise to call on him at the first opportunity.

  At least he now enjoyed the sitting room instead of his chamber. It had been Bianca who convinced him to leave the room and promised not to be scandalized by his bare feet and he was immensely thankful. As large and comfortable as the sleeping chamber had been, the walls had begun to close in on him. It wasn’t as if he were ill in bed and sleeping, simply sunburnt feet and it had become damned boring being up there alone.

  “Avoiding me will not delay the inevitable,” the man announced, bursting into the parlor right behind the footman who had come to announce him.

  “Mr. Silas Palmer to see you Lord Wingate.”

  Instead of standing at the man’s entrance, Ashton stretched out his legs in an attempt to hide his feet beneath the table.

  “It was not my intention to avoid. I am indisposed,” Ashton answered.

  “You look well enough to me,” Palmer barked.

  “Yes, well, looks can be deceiving.” Ashton turned to the footman. “A fresh tea service please.”

  He bowed and exited the parlor.

  “What is so pressing that you tracked me here?” Ashton demanded.

  He’d been interested and worried at what Palmer had to reveal, but on sight and from the man’s tone, Ashton quickly surmised that he did not like Palmer very much either. How dare he barge into Roxburg’s home making demands? Did the man not know that Roxburg was a duke and one shouldn’t simply march into a duke’s home.

  Palmer looked him up and down and sneered. “Whatever is wrong with you is hidden well and shouldn’t disrupt our planned meeting.”

  Dislike was too mild of a word. Loathing was more appropriate. It wasn’t so much his appearance but the hatefulness in Palmer’s eyes and demanding tone. As Ashton had done nothing to earn his wrath, simply delayed an appointment, he felt no need to apologize again as he’d done so in the missive that had been delivered earlier.

  “What is so urgent?” Ashton returned. He’d not be intimidated by Palmer and he was quite certain that the man had every intention of trying do just that, and all the more reason to remain seated. Until he knew exactly what Palmer wanted, Ashton had every intention of proceeding with caution.

  “I wish to know your intentions,” Palmer announced as he took a seat across from him without being asked to do so. He then seemed to notice Ashton’s feet for the first time. “Good Lord, what did you do?”

  “I don’t believe that is any of your concern,” Ashton retorted in a tone his father would have been proud to hear. He did not like Palmer and drew on everything he had learned from observation at the knee of a marquess. Haughtiness was in his blood when he wished to wield the weapon.

  Palmer pulled back. “Is it
your intention not to honor the agreement?”

  “I do not know what agreement to which you refer,” Ashton assured him. “Until my father’s death, I was unaware that he’d been paying you two hundred pounds a quarter, or for what reason, and until I have an explantation, I will not continue to do so.” It was best to have the upper hand in these situations.

  In response, Palmer pulled documents from the inside of his waistcoat. “I assumed you’d try to renege on the agreement as your father attempted to do, but I’ll not have it.” He slammed the documents on the table with such force that it caused a bit of a breeze and Ashton simply stared at them.

  “Your father first purchased the Plantation back in 1780, and for a time it did well. But, with poor management from an absentee landowner, it soon suffered. On one of his visits, he realized his error in being away too long and too often. That was in 1794, when he renamed the plantation to Grell Hill, but he lacked the income to make the plantation profitable again.”

  Given what he knew of his father’s investments and failure at each one, Ashton was no longer surprised. “He sought a loan from you,” Ashton provided.

  “Yes, and for a time, I thought he’d be successful, but the land never produced as well as it should, and he never realized the profits one could make.”

  Though his father was a poor manager, he hadn’t even been in Barbados to oversee and then ruin the investment. Several of the plantations on the island were owned by absent landlords and they thrived, so why hadn’t his father’s. Further, had Palmer had anything to do with the failure?

  Though Ashton had no proof, something warned that Mr. Silas Palmer could not be trusted and until Ashton was fully able to investigate the agreement, he’d not agree to anything now.

  “Now the land is nothing and the house a shell, yet his debt to me still remains.”

  “How much?” Ashton used everything in his being to school his features and not react to whatever sum was given.

  “Twenty thousand pounds.”

  “I see. Was that the original amount, or has it been paid down with my father’s payments, or interest added.”

  “I didn’t bring a full accounting with me.”

  “I’ll insist upon one before I agree to pay any amount,” Ashton asserted. He certainly wasn’t going to take Palmer’s word on the matter.

  “I also took in his slaves after the rebellion which required that I feed, house and clothe them.”

  “Of course.” Ashton took a sip of the tea and reminded himself to remain calm and cold. “However, I’m just as certain that you benefited from the extra workers in your fields and assume that you have credited the accounts with the additional income you have earned from their labor.”

  Palmer blinked, taken aback. “Yes, well, I’ll need to check into the matter.”

  “A full accounting, Mr. Palmer,” Ashton demanded. “From the moment of my father’s debt, minus his payments, reasonable interest added, costs for the housing, clothing and feeding of the slaves, and deductions for profits you earned as they would have been mine in a normal circumstance.”

  “Yes of course,” he quickly agreed then leaned back and studied Ashton. “However, we can put all of that aside if you simply honor the addendum to the agreement.”

  “Paying my father’s debt is honoring the agreement.”

  The man slowly smiled, and Ashton’s stomach sank, though he didn’t react. Instead, he studied Palmer, not showing the least bit of discomfort while he waited to hear what other mistake his father had made. The first had been in trusting Palmer, but how bad could it be beyond the twenty thousand pounds he now owed. Twenty thousand he did not have.

  Ashton didn’t glance away from Palmer when he noted movement at the entrance. Quietly, Roxburg and Eve entered, having returned from Sunday Services, and came to stand behind Palmer.

  “One option is that if you cannot pay what is owed, the land and house are mine, though they are worth very little, so you will still need to pay what remains after credit is given.”

  “You can have the house and the land as I have no need for the property. It had been my intent to sell and be done with the business. You’ve now saved me the trouble.”

  Palmer frowned and Ashton suspected that it was not the answer the man had hoped for. “However, you shan’t have the slaves.”

  Palmer straightened. “That’s Roxburg’s influence I suppose.”

  “It is my own and has been for some time,” Ashton assured him. “My father and I never agreed on the practice of slavery.”

  “Yes well, without the slaves you’ll owe more.”

  “As I requested, a full accounting, after you calculate the worth of the house and land, minus the slaves.”

  “I don’t want your land or house, Wingate.”

  “Very well, don’t take it. I’ll sell to another. I simply need a full accounting of the remaining total of my father’s debt so that it can be satisfied.”

  Ashton had met men like him before, and he was quite certain Palmer thought to come here and gain any agreement while providing nothing in return. Until he reviewed the figures for himself, Ashton wasn’t going to agree to anything. Further, he’d have Roxburg, and possibly Samuel Storm review the accounts to make certain that fair amounts had been calculated as he was certain Palmer wasn’t above cheating any man.

  “I’ll have the accounting delivered within a few days,” he assured Ashton.

  “Very well, if that is all.” He gestured toward the door, eager to be rid of the unpleasant man.

  “We’ve yet to discuss the second option. One that cannot and will not be negotiated again.”

  Ashton blew out a sigh as if bored, though his stomach tightened. This had been a bit too easy, or at least he wanted Palmer to think so while inside Ashton was in a near panic knowing he couldn’t come up with the necessary funds. Not until he sold his property here and in England. “Go on.”

  “The remainder of the terms are quite simple, Lord Wingate.” Palmer grinned. “All debts are to be paid in full by midnight on the thirty-first day of December, 1817 or you will have no choice but to marry my daughter. Once the marriage has taken place, all debts will be forgiven.”

  Ice settled into Ashton’s veins and he stared at the man. “I never agreed to marriage, nor will I honor any such agreement made by my father.”

  Palmer chuckled. “Then I’ll expect payment in full, or charges will be brought against you.” He stood. “I’ve a copy of the agreement for you to read as you appear quite ignorant of the situation.” He picked the documents up off the table and tossed them to Ashton. “The accounting will be delivered, but I expect full payment or marriage to my daughter before the first of the year. Failure to do either will see you arrested, as is outlined on the final page.”

  “You’re threatening me with debtors’ prison?” Ashton laughed. It was a full belly laugh because he had already contemplated that such could occur and now that he was twenty thousand deeper in debt, it was likely to happen anyway.

  “Not in England, where your title carries weight and it’s unlikely you will need to pay much of anything, but here, in Barbados, where prison is far from pleasant.”

  “Good day, Mr. Palmer. I’ll consider the agreement only after I’ve the accounting, for if you’ve cheated my father in any manner, it will not be I who need be concerned with prison. However, I can promise that there will be no marriage to your daughter, whoever she may be, as I am already betrothed and my affianced might take issue with me marrying another, as would her great-uncle.”

  This seemed to surprise him. “I’ve learned of no such arrangement.”

  “Perhaps that is because it is none of your concern,” Ashton bit out.

  “And why should I bloody care if her great-uncle takes issue?” He said it in a manner that he believed the great-uncle beneath him, which made Ashton want to laugh all the more and he slowly smiled.

  “The Duke of Danby.” Who, if he knew prior to the vows being taken,
could very well object. But that wasn’t a concern at the moment and in situations such as this, tossing out the name of His Grace could certainly have its benefits. Or should.

  “I don’t care if she’s great-niece of the king. You will marry my daughter if the debt is not paid in full. Besides, you aren’t married yet,” he warned. “Your betrothed might not wish to be tied to a man who will soon be locked up.”

  Ashton grew stern. “Do not threaten me again.”

  “I’m simply stating a fact,” Palmer returned. “I am aware of the numerous debts your father acquired in England in addition to the one owed me. Further, I know that it is impossible for you to repay any of them short of selling every piece of property you own.” He took a step forward. “Those in London may be willing to wait because of your lofty title and connections to dukes, but I will not. Payment in full on the thirty-first, or marriage to my daughter on the first.” He turned for the door and then stopped. “Further, if you try to leave Barbados before the debt is paid, I will have you stopped.” He gave a nod. “Good day, Lord Wingate.”

  It wasn’t until the front door closed after his exit that Ashton blew out a sigh and fell back against the settee. Twenty thousand pounds! He didn’t even have five that he could pay toward the debt.

  “Lord Wingate didn’t attend services either today,” Jillian assured Hannah after they’d returned.

  “According to Eve, he still can’t wear his boots,” Isabella added.

  “It could be days,” Jillian suggested as she watched Hannah closely as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

  “We could visit?” Isabella suggested. “Bianca is often complaining that I don’t visit her nearly as often as she travels here.”

  Hannah wasn’t certain if Isabella spoke the truth or not, however, in the short time that she’d been in Barbados, they’d not once gone to visit Roxburg and his wife.

  “The three of us could call on Bianca and perhaps cheer Lord Wingate in his time of discomfort,” she hinted to Hannah.