Clambering down from the box seat, Athena reached for her parcel of goods, squared her shoulders, and entered the shop. She saw a few ladies inside it glance admiringly at her shawl, which gave her the courage she needed to go ahead with her task.
‘May I help you?’ a severe looking lady enquired.
‘I’d like to see the proprietor, please.’
‘You are speaking with her. I’m Miss Dawson. How may I be of help?’
Athena launched into a description of her handmade lace, holding up her shawl as an example. She expected to be turned away by this rather aloof woman but, to her utter astonishment, she smiled at Athena and took a closer look at her wares.
‘This is quite exceptional,’ she said, fingering a delicate fan. ‘And so unusual. I think we might easily find a market for such pretty things.’
‘You do?’ Delight and relief spiralled through Athena.
‘Absolutely. The Duke of Winsdale is having a house party next week. The ladies always come into the village during the proceedings, looking for trinkets they don’t find in the larger establishments in London. I think your beautiful things will take their fancy the moment they lay eyes on them.’
‘Well, that’s most encouraging. It’s handmade, you see.’
‘Indeed I do. I hear many complaints about the inferior quality of machine-made lace nowadays.’
Athena could have kissed her. ‘Quite so,’ she replied, managing to control her satisfied smile. She wished Mr Moncrieff could have heard Miss Dawson’s comment. It vindicated her strongly-held belief that was partly responsible for Athena’s current predicament.
‘How much can you offer me, and what prices do you expect them to fetch?’ Miss Dawson asked.
Negotiations were undertaken, and Athena could scarce hide her relief when Miss Dawson offered to take everything Athena had in the cart. The amount she was prepared to pay literally took Athena’s breath away, far exceeding her most optimistic expectations, even though it was far less than she could have charged, had she been free to call the lace by its proper, better known name. Better yet, Miss Dawson paid her on the spot, when Athena had supposed she would have to wait until her items were sold before she actually saw any money.
‘I shall take as much as you can offer me, Mrs Defoe,’ Miss Dawson said. ‘But I must insist you offer it only to me.’ She sent a scathing glance through the shop window, towards a competing haberdashery store directly across the road. ‘Exclusivity is my byword. It will lower the tone, and the value of your merchandise, if it’s available just anywhere.’
Athena suppressed a smile. It suited her very well to only deal with one establishment. ‘I understand perfectly.’
‘Then we are agreed.’
Miss Dawson sent a lad out to the cart to collect the rest of the parcels. Athena shook the lady’s hand, and left the establishment with a far lighter step than the one that had propelled her into it. She failed to suppress a smile when she noticed two assistants scurry to rearrange the window so some of Athena’s items could be prominently displayed there.
With a heavier purse than she had known for many a long day, Athena stopped at a butcher’s cart to purchase a treat for their supper. She would have liked to delay and buy a few things for the girls, but she had been here for long enough, attracting far too much attention. Miss Dawson hadn’t asked where Athena lived, but had enquired if more merchandise could be made available. Athena had promised to call upon her again in a few days’ time with additional stock.
Since now they didn’t have to worry about finding enough money for food, she and the girls would work their fingers to the bone, if necessary. Opportunities like this were few and far between, and Athena couldn’t afford to waste this one. It might provide them with enough funds to see them through the coming winter.
As she drove home, she finally allowed herself to think about Mr Franklin, hoping her herbs were already taking effect. Byron whinnied a frantic greeting to Meg when she reached the cottage. Athena laughed as she jumped down from the cart, and the girls came dashing up to her.
‘How did you get on?’ Lyssa asked.
Selene looked anxious. ‘Did you manage to sell anything at all?’
‘Everything,’ Athena replied, patting her heavy reticule and being rewarded by the satisfying sound of rattling coin.
‘All of it?’ the girls asked together, mouths hanging open.
‘Yes, and they might very well want more. Miss Dawson, the owner of the shop, looked very severe, but she was actually quite charming. She said she had seldom seen such exquisite work, and whoever made the lace possessed a rare gift.’
Millie trudged over, a heavy basket of potatoes in hand. ‘Well done, lass,’ she said, smiling. ‘I knew things would pick up.’
‘It seems almost too good to be true,’ Athena said. ‘I can still barely credit it myself.’
‘Well, we’d best get these potatoes washed and prepared.’ Millie nodded towards the basket. ‘Come along, you two. You can help.’
‘We possess a rare gift,’ Selene said giggling.
‘That’s right,’ Lyssa added with an impish smile. ‘We couldn’t possibly lower ourselves.’
Laughing, Millie aimed her hand at Selene’s ear and shooed the girls inside ahead of her.
Athena released Meg from her harness and, much to the delight of the prancing Byron, turned her back out in the paddock. As she did so, she sensed a presence behind her, turned slowly, and gasped. Mr Franklin was standing, shirtless, beside the block, a neat pile of logs stacked beside it. She tried to speak, but her mouth had gone dry and the words stuck in her throat. Just for a moment, she allowed her eyes to linger on his impressive torso. It wasn’t every day a woman was treated to such a fine sight. Then she pulled herself together and frowned at him.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘Helping you by chopping a few logs.’
‘A few? You’ve done almost the whole pile. You will have done your head no end of harm. That’s far too heavy work for a man in your condition.’
‘And what condition would that be?’ He leaned on the axe, muscles flexing as he sent her an annoyingly smug smile that had a most disconcerting affect upon her.
She ignored the question, mainly because she had no idea how to answer it, and focused her attention on his bandaged head instead. There was no blood showing on the gauze, implying the herbs had done a good enough job already to withstand the pressure he’d just so foolishly put himself under.
‘You’ve been exceedingly rash,’ she said with asperity. ‘But, I thank you for the logs.’
‘I could hardly leave the task to you.’ He picked up one of her hands.
Dear God, don’t let him kiss it again!
‘I couldn’t bear to think of you damaging your delicate hands.’
‘I don’t chop the wood myself.’
‘Oh, then whom—’
‘I have an arrangement with a lad from the nearest farm. He comes once a week to do it, and I pay him a few pennies for his trouble.’
‘Well then, at least I’ve saved you a few pennies.’
‘And deprived the lad of his income.’
‘Ah, I didn’t stop to consider.’
‘No, you did not.’
They walked around the cottage, to the front door. Mercifully, Mr Franklin put his shirt back on before they did so. It was very hard to string coherent thoughts together when a half-naked man with a mocking smile and plethora of hard muscles stood beside her, showing off every bit as much as his wretched horse.
‘How went it in the village?’
Athena couldn’t help smiling. ‘I managed to sell everything I took with me, and Miss Dawson is anxious for more.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it. Are you able to supply more in time?’
She blinked at him. ‘In time for what?’
‘Why, in time to meet her needs, of course. What else?’
‘We’re very resourceful.’
/> ‘Surely Mr Defoe provides for you all?’
‘I need to take another look at your head,’ Athena replied.
Mr Franklin shot her a knowing look. ‘Very well.’
She sat him on a kitchen stool, unwound the bandage, and gently probed at his wound. ‘Yes, it’s doing well. I shall apply some more herbs to it now and another lot in the morning. You will have a nasty bruise and a scar, at least initially, but if you persevere with my treatment, I believe it will fade quite quickly.’
‘Much as I would like to stay, I must be on my way again within the hour.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘Even if I wished to stay, there’s nowhere for me to sleep without inconveniencing you. Besides, I don’t imagine Mr Defoe would approve.’
‘Mr Defoe isn’t here.’ Athena sighed, surprised at just how much she didn’t want him to leave. But he was right, of course, he couldn’t stay. Besides, if he was strong enough to chop wood, he could certainly ride to wherever he was going. Athena didn’t want to know where that was. It would be easier to put him out of her mind that way. ‘Very well. I shall do another poultice now, and then make up a jar of herbs for you to take with you. Apply them twice a day for a week.’
‘Will you allow me to pay you for your kindness?’ Mr Franklin asked when Athena had applied the new poultice and re-bandaged his head. ‘After all, without you I would most likely be dead.’
‘No, that’s out of the question. I didn’t do anything anyone wouldn’t have done in the same circumstances.’
‘I disagree.’ Mr Franklin’s eyes shimmered with an elusive emotion that made Athena feel quite warm all over. It was very difficult not to react to his lazy, persuasive charm, but Athena couldn’t afford that luxury. She turned away from him and busied herself with her pot of simmering herbs.
‘This should be ready momentarily,’ she said hastily.
‘Very well.’
She didn’t look at him but could hear amusement in his voice, as though he knew perfectly well what effect he was having on her, the wretched man.
‘We’ll say no more about it.’ He paused. ‘For now.’
For now? ‘Should you pass this way again, I would be interested to know how well the cure works.’ Athena blushed, wondering what had made her say that. She was curious to know how the herbal treatment went, but knew deep in her heart that wasn’t the only reason why she wished to see Mr Franklin again.
‘I think I can safely promise you of that satisfaction, at least.’
Mr Franklin lifted her hand to his beautiful mouth and kissed the back of it. Their eyes clashed, her body trembled at the contact with his lips, and she was unable to snatch her hand away. Millie loudly cleared her throat and the spell was broken. Mr Franklin sighed and released her hand while Athena set about making up the herbs he would take with him.
An hour later, Byron had been persuaded to leave Meg, protesting loudly with a series of increasingly frantic whinnies that made Athena smile. Mr Franklin saddled his horse and swung up into that saddle with an agility that defied his earlier near-dead condition. Really, the man had the constitution of an ox.
He waved to Athena and the girls as they stood at the door, and then cantered away.
‘He is such a handsome man,’ Lyssa said dreamily.
‘I wonder where he’s going,’ Selene added as he disappeared from view, echoing Athena’s private thoughts.
Chapter Five
Eli was back at Winsdale Park in less than fifteen minutes. The short distance separating his palatial home from Athena’s humble cottage might as well have been a million miles, given the difference in their living conditions. Eli was so accustomed to his estate that he took it for granted and never really thought about it, beyond being aware it was his responsibility to keep it running smoothly and profitably for the next generation of Sheltons.
As he approached the main house, trotting briskly up the long gravel driveway, gardeners straightened up from their labours to bow as he passed. He looked up at the rambling building, feeling both privileged and burdened by his obligations. He understood, as well as the next duke, that his role was vital. Someone had to be in charge or there would be anarchy. That he had been born to lead had been drummed into him since he was in short coats, and he prided himself on discharging his duties with a firm but fair hand. He looked after his tenants, took a keen interest in their farming methods, and concerned himself with local affairs.
There was one local affair he would very much like to concern himself with right now. Intimately. She lived in appalling conditions in one of his cottages, and Eli needed to understand how that situation had been allowed to arise. If he didn’t receive a satisfactory answer, heads would roll.
The moment he rode into his stable yard, his head groom came running to take Byron’s reins. Eli dismounted, barely acknowledging the man or his ill-disguised curiosity at Eli’s bandaged head. He strode into the house by a side door, where his butler, Archer, awaited him. As always, he had anticipated Eli’s arrival, or more likely observed him riding up the drive.
‘Your grace,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘You’re injured.’
‘Very observant, Archer,’ Eli replied, not breaking stride.
‘Should I send for a physician, your grace?’
‘Absolutely not.’
Eli wanted to tell Archer not to inform his mother—of his arrival, or of his injury—but knew it would be a waste of breath. Just like Archer, his mother would already be aware he was home. His mother always seemed to know.
‘Have this sent up to my rooms,’ Eli said, handing Archer Athena’s jar of herbs. ‘And take care not to drop it.’
Archer looked rather offended that Eli considered him capable of dropping anything. He didn’t have time to deal with his butler’s wounded pride. Instead, he headed into the back corridor, where the estate office was situated.
‘Bairstowe.’ He impatiently threw open the door and strode into the room. ‘Where the devil are you?’
‘Your grace!’ His steward cast aside his quill and jumped to his feet. ‘Is something amiss?’
‘What were you thinking, allowing tenants to take the old woodman’s cottage in Whispers’ Hollow?’
‘Your grace, you gave me orders to find suitable tenants for all your vacant properties.’ Bairstowe paled beneath the force of Eli’s blistering glare. ‘You were quite specific on the point.’
So he had been. ‘Perdition, Bairstowe, I meant the habitable cottages. I didn’t think I needed to spell that out to you.’
‘I was fully aware of that, your grace. But the lady who took Whispers’ Hollow was quite insistent it was the only location that would suit her requirements. I tried to explain it was unfit, but she was exceedingly…er, persuasive, that’s not to say persistent.’
Eli rolled his eyes, well able to believe it. Just how persuasive had she been? Jealousy roiled through Eli’s gut at the very thought of another man—any man—laying so much as one finger on his goddess.
‘She particularly wanted a secluded location, and said Whispers’ Hollow would suit her perfectly.’ Bairstowe quailed beneath Eli’s repressing glare. ‘I only charged her a peppercorn rent, your grace.’
‘A lady, Bairstowe? Where the devil is her husband?’
‘I asked Mrs Defoe the same question. She told me she was expecting him to return to these shores at any time, which is why she wished to be near to Portsmouth.’
‘I would hardly call Whispers’ Hollow close to Portsmouth. It’s a good twenty miles away.’
‘I made the same observation to Mrs Defoe but, again, she insisted upon privacy. That, apparently, was more important to her than expediency.’
‘Can’t get much more private that Whispers’ Hollow, I suppose. How long ago did she take occupation?’ How long has she been there without my knowledge?
‘A little over a month, your grace, if memory serves.’
‘A month, you say.’ She had been living in squalor all that time
. Thank God, it was summer at least. Although the days were drawing in, and there was now a chill in the early morning air. ‘Did she say how long she required it for?’
‘No, your grace, but I assumed it would be for a short period. No one could live there in winter.’
‘No one should be living there at all! Get a team of men over there first thing tomorrow.’ Eli paced the length of the office, his booted tread ringing out on the boarded floor. ‘I want the roof re-thatched, the inner staircase and upper floor made secure, the windows repaired, and two rooms made upstairs.’ One for his goddess and one for the twins. ‘Arrange for comfortable beds to be provided for those rooms, and make sure all the mouldy walls are repaired while you’re at it. Oh, and tell Mrs Defoe these repairs are being made on my orders, and there will be no increase in the rent.’
Bairstowe stared at Eli, open-mouthed. He wouldn’t dare to ask how Eli had become so intimately acquainted with the cottage, or how he knew Mrs Defoe’s name, but it was obvious he was burning with curiosity.
‘I’ll make the arrangements at once, your grace.’
‘See that you do.’ Eli reached for the door. ‘Oh, and Bairstowe, never put tenants in any unfit property ever again, if you value your position.’
He strode from the room without waiting for Bairstowe to respond, regretting how harshly he had treated a man who’d served him faithfully for as long as he could remember. It was thoughts of the way Athena had been forced to live, albeit by her own insistence, that had so angered him.
And her situation became ever more intriguing. She’d beguiled Bairstowe, or one of his underlings, into letting her have Whispers’ Hollow, precisely because it was so isolated, or because she was sure to get it cheaply? She and her sisters were skilled in the art of lace-making, and yet weren’t employed by any of the famous houses. Or were they? Is that what they were running away from?
To Defy a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 1 Page 5
