“Thank you, but I do believe a hearty home-cooked meal would be just the thing this evening,” Mr. Crawford said. He stood and lowered his gaze to Mary. “Shall we proceed with the tour, Miss Clemens?”
She was a lovely woman, Caleb decided as he followed Miss Clemens out of the parlor and toward the stairs. Feisty too, judging from her impassioned defense of the caretaker’s dismissal. He liked that she’d stood her ground and thrown the man out when he threatened her principals. In fact, he had to admit he was slightly surprised by what he’d discovered when he’d knocked on the door and the three young women had bid him welcome.
When they’d asked his name, he’d hesitated just long enough to ensure that none of them knew him. He doubted they would since he could not recall meeting any of them before, not even his best friend’s sister, Lady Cassandra.
As soon as he was certain of anonymity, he’d introduced himself as Mr. Crawford, which wasn’t so much of a lie since it was his last name. It would allow him, he hoped, to be treated as a normal person while he was here, which was all he really wanted, aside from the task of fixing the roof.
The women were remarkably pretty, which instantly piqued his curiosity. It made no sense that none had married, though he supposed they all had their reasons. So far he only knew of Lady Cassandra’s, but when Miss Clemens had walked into the parlor carrying the tea tray, her eyes sparkling and her lips drawn up in a radiant smile, he’d been transfixed. He wanted to learn her secrets now, and he wanted to know why she’d fled the front entrance with the hasty excuse of fetching refreshments.
“How did you end up here?” he asked, going straight to the point without any finesse.
The tip of her shoe caught the edge of a step on the staircase. Her body jerked as she stumbled, her hand clutching the banister firmly for support. Caleb was tempted to reach out and steady her, but that would probably be unwise, so he clasped his hands behind his back, hid a chuckle, and allowed himself to savor her discomfort.
“That is a rather personal thing to ask,” she grumbled. She’d regained her balance and was now marching up the stairs. “We have only just met.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not curious,” he told her lightly. She reached the top of the landing and turned to face him, effectively bringing her daringly close to his person when he stepped up onto the landing as well. Her lips parted, either in surprise or to offer a sharp rejoinder, he wasn’t quite sure, until the flint in her green eyes eased, and she blinked a few times in rapid succession.
“Curiosity can be a burden, you know.” She swirled around and rushed onward as if she hoped to escape his presence.
Caleb followed her easily enough with a few long strides. Reaching a door at the end of the hallway, she undid the latch at the top, yanked it wide open, and hurried up the next flight of steps as if fearing he might accost her.
That gave him pause, and he immediately frowned. He hoped her reasons for being here didn’t include falling victim to a dishonorable scoundrel.
Climbing the stairs a bit slower than before, Caleb stepped up into the attic and instantly sucked in a breath the moment she came into view once more. She was peering out a dusty window while sunshine spilled through it and onto her face. Bathed in light and with a few stray strands of golden hair falling across her cheek, she looked like a creature from another world. Her lips were rosy and slightly moist, as if she’d recently licked them, her nose an elegant line that curved with perfection.
Caleb took a moment to gather his thoughts, completely upended by the beauty Miss Clemens portrayed. And although her gown was plain, the way she stood, leaning slightly forward, allowed him to admire her shapely contours with greater ease.
A surge of heat erupted inside him, and he clenched his hands to ward off the sudden desire that assailed him. After all, he hardly knew this woman, and if she feared him, she’d be right to, because the only thing he could think of now was how she might respond if he stepped up behind her. Would she lean into his embrace and sigh with pleasure?
No, he decided with a wry smile. From what little he’d learned of her so far, he rather suspected she’d smack him. And as pleasant as that might be in the end, he could not take the risk of her sending him packing. Because then he’d be forced to go straight back to London, to the desk that awaited him there in his study, and the dull future looming before him.
Sighing, he left Miss Clemens to ponder the view and forced himself to consider the roof. Without looking too closely, he could see the extra light pouring through where tiles had gone missing. Water stains here and there on the floor suggested a series of long-existing leaks. Some had caused the floorboards to rot, which not only made them unsafe to walk on but probably resulted in heavy dripping in the bedrooms below whenever it rained.
“This roof is sorely lacking in attention, Miss Clemens. I’m not surprised the previous caretaker was frustrated by his inability to fix it for you.”
“Providing food and clothing was a little more pressing,” she told him tartly.
He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. She’d come away from the window and was making her way toward him, watching her step to avoid the rot. “I’m also sure you’d like to prevent yourself and the children in your care from getting sick, as you are all at risk of doing if you live in a damp and chilly home.”
“We have fireplaces.” Her voice had grown defensive.
“And heat rises,” he told her gently. “If the roof is not secure, all that heat will go straight outside.”
She pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said, startling him with her concession. “Do you think you can fix it before winter sets in?”
He gave the roof another quick glance and nodded. “Viscount Aldridge gave me the funds to do it, so yes, I believe it will be possible.”
The smile she gave him in exchange for his assurance left him feeling slightly unsteady.
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford. I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear you say that.” She placed both hands on her hips. “Now, shall I show you where you will be staying?”
Caleb nodded, his gaze holding hers until her cheeks colored. There was no doubt in his mind that he affected her somehow, which was definitely gratifying since she so clearly affected him. He was also sure that she felt it too, this unmistakable attraction between them, but rather than accept it, she seemed quite determined to fight it and deny it and run from it as fast as she could.
Whatever happened to you, Miss Clemens?
Most women he’d known appreciated a man’s attention. Except her. If he had to guess, she’d rather shut herself away in a wardrobe than grant him a second to admire her looks.
Her feet tapped loudly on the steps as she hurried down the stairs like a scampering mouse being chased by a prowling cat. Caleb took his time, enjoying her breathless pauses when she stopped to check if he was still behind her. Hell, she was lucky there were children and two other women in the house, or he might make an effort to catch her. Watching her cheeks flush each time she glanced his way and hearing her gasp when she saw he was close was starting to wear on his urge to pull her back to him and kiss her senseless.
Lust and desire, he told himself bluntly. How long had it been since he’d had a woman? Damn if he could remember. He’d been so absorbed in his building projects in France and later by his return to England and the deaths of his father and brother, he’d not had the time or energy to consider his baser needs. They’d lain dormant until the door to this house had swung open and he’d looked into Miss Clemens’s eyes, at which point they’d surged to life with a vengeance.
Christ!
This really would not do.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he muttered an oath and strode out of the house to where Miss Clemens now waited. Except she wasn’t waiting. She was walking toward a small stone building about a hundred yards away from the main house. Caleb quickened his stride to catch up with her.
“It’s a
beautiful property,” he said. Squeals sounded from somewhere behind him, and he instinctively glanced back to see two little girls chasing after each other. “There’s certainly plenty of space for the children to run about.”
She tilted her chin. “Do you like children, Mr. Crawford?”
He blinked and stuck his hands in his pockets. What a strange question. “Doesn’t everyone?”
She pressed her lips together. “No.”
“Hmm.” He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. “I don’t have much experience with them, I confess, but their ability to offer unconditional love to those who care for them is worth all the effort, I suspect.”
“It most certainly is,” she agreed, and although she didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at her, he could tell she was smiling from the sound of her voice.
“Do you not wish to have some of your own one day?” He wasn’t sure where he’d found the nerve to ask such a forward question, and yet somehow he had.
She didn’t answer right away, and he began to think she never would, which was not surprising, but then she said, “I believe the time for that has passed.”
The sadness with which she said it tore at his heart. “Why?” They arrived at the door to the cottage, and she busied her hands with finding the key which seemed to be lost in one of her pockets. “You’re still young enough to attract a man’s attention, Miss Clemens.”
Her gaze shot up to lock with his. “I…” She lifted the key to the door between them, paused for a second, and then quickly unlocked the lock. The door creaked open, catching on the floor and sticking. “Sorry. This probably needs to be fixed as well,” she muttered before pushing her way through the narrow opening.
Caleb squeezed inside as well and considered the space he’d been offered to live in. It was small but just as clean as Lady Cassandra had promised, and the roof here looked much more solid than the one that covered the main house.
“I’ll give you some sheets for the bed,” Miss Clemens told him. She cleared her throat and appeared to consider each corner of the room, looking everywhere but at him. “If there’s anything else you need…”
She glanced at him at that moment and went completely still.
He wasn't surprised, because he knew he was staring at her while compiling a long list of all the things he needed. Each item more wicked than the last. Her eyes widened and as they did so, he knew it must show on his face. Worst of all, he wasn't sure how to stop it. The presence of a bed wasn't helping.
“I'll get you some fresh towels too,” she said. “And a wash basin and pitcher so you can...” She waved her hand aimlessly before dropping it to her side. “Perhaps a book or two would be nice as well. Do you read, Mr. Crawford? Yes, of course you do since you're quite well-spoken. There is a library that you are welcome to use, though it's not very grand, but it does contain a few novels I think you'd enjoy and—”
“Miss Clemens,” he muttered, closing the distance between them in two easy strides.
“Yes?” she squeaked.
He met her gaze boldly before lowering it to the fullness of her lips. Her breath hitched and he knew she thought he might kiss her. The temptation was certainly there, burning through his every restraint. But it would be a mistake.
This knowledge made him look up even as the tips of his fingers tingled with the urge to touch her. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent: fresh linen and starch with a hint of lavender.
Inspiration struck and he decided to allow himself a moment of pleasure. “Cobwebs,” he murmured.
Confusion puckered her brow. “What?”
Her voice was but a soft exhalation spilling over her plump lower lip. Caleb steeled himself and reached up, shamelessly sliding his fingers between a few stray locks of her hair.
He couldn't regret the lie he'd told her. Now that he'd touched her, discovered how silky her hair felt against his skin, he knew he would have been mad not to take the liberty.
“It must have attached itself to you in the attic.” His knuckles deliberately grazed her cheek before he withdrew, dropping his hand to his side. “There. All gone.”
She stared up at him, and he heard her breath tremble as she inhaled. Her response to his closeness and touch was not only palpable, but thoroughly arousing.
But then she blinked and when she looked at him again, it was with a mixture of surprise and unease. It ruined the moment and made Caleb feel like a cad for taking advantage of this woman's trust. She'd shown him hospitality without a chaperone's protection, and he'd thanked her by making her the subject of his most depraved fantasies.
“Thank you,” she told him crisply.
He almost laughed. If she knew his mind, she'd scold him instead.
Keeping that bit of information to himself, he dipped his head and aimed for politeness. “You are welcome, Miss Clemens.”
She hesitated briefly before brushing past him. “I must help Cassandra and Emily with supper,” she said as she slipped through the door. “We eat at six.”
He turned to watch her flee and then thought of something. “I don't suppose there's a lake on the property?”
“Over there behind those trees,” she called with a wave of her hand.
Caleb waited until she was out of sight before leaving the cottage and striding briskly in the direction she'd indicated. Summer was long gone so the water would probably be frigid, which was precisely what he needed in order to cool his ardor.
3
Mary rose from bed later than usual the following morning, not because she wasn't awake, but because the idea of encountering Mr. Crawford again unnerved her. When he'd touched her hair the day before, her body had sagged with pleasure and yearned for more. Which was something she could not afford. Not when she'd spent five years telling herself she'd never fall under another man's spell.
To do so would be a sure recipe for heartbreak, so she'd actually been proud of herself when she'd managed to resist Mr. Townsend. But Mr. Crawford... He was entirely different. He'd torn down her barriers within seconds and forced her to face her desires.
“Dear God.”
Patting her flushed cheeks, she got out of bed and dressed, deliberately selecting a high-collared dress she usually reserved for winter. Perhaps it would stop him from looking at her like she was a delicious dessert he meant to devour.
Stifling the thrill the memory of his regard evoked, Mary crept downstairs and carefully peeked inside the dining room. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted only Cassandra, Emily, and the children at the table. No sign of Mr. Crawford. Yet.
“Good morning,” she said as she went to take her seat next to Bridget so she could help the six year old butter her toast.
“You look cheerful,” Emily said. She took a sip of tea while eying Mary over the rim of her cup.
Mary shrugged and reached for the teapot. “I'm just glad to know the roof will soon be fixed.” Selecting a piece of toast she spooned some jam onto it and took a large bite. “It is a relief.”
Cassandra studied her. “Mmm...hmm...”
“What?” Mary asked.
“Nothing.” Cassandra shook her head and helped her daughter refill her glass with milk. But then she smiled and leaned across the table toward Mary with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “You just never looked quite so pleased when any of the caretakers we've had in the past offered to take care of it.”
“Well,” Mary said, “they were either inefficient, lacked the necessary skills, or made ridiculous demands.”
“And Mr. Crawford is simply perfect,” Emily muttered.
“His looks certainly are,” Cassandra said with a far too knowing glance directed at Mary.
Mary picked up her toast once more and took another bite to distract herself and the others from the frayed state of her nerves. “Where is he, by the way?” So she could avoid him, of course. Or at least that was the reason she gave herself for asking.
“He rode off about an hour ago,” Emily said,
“with the intention of buying supplies. Not sure when he'll be back.”
Oddly, Mary felt a twinge of disappointment, which was silly since she'd decided to ignore the man completely. Doing so would be infinitely simpler if he were somewhere else, like a mile away in the village.
Finishing breakfast, she helped the children clean their teeth with powder before escorting them back to the dining room for their lessons. She would start them on mathematics while Emily and Cassandra washed the dishes. Later, when Cassandra took over to teach them French, Mary would clean the bedrooms, do some laundering, and iron for a bit.
She placed a sheet of sums in front of each child based on their age and level of experience, guiding each of them in turn when they got stuck and needed help.
“Is something the matter?” she asked when she came to stand beside Peter’s chair.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
Mary pondered the page she’d given him. It was blank as usual, as if he hadn't even tried. But it couldn't be because he found it too hard for she'd seen him correct one of Eliot's sums once when he hadn't thought she was paying attention.
“Is it too easy for you?”
He tapped his pencil aimlessly on the table. “I just don't see the point.”
“But...” He started to rise while Mary tried to think of something useful to say. “The more you know, the better your prospects will be later in life.”
He seemed to consider this with a soulful expression far too serious for someone so young. And then he asked, “Will it bring my parents back?”
Mary almost choked on the unexpected rush of emotion that tightened her throat. What could she possibly say when her own heart was breaking.
Peter nodded as if her silence said more than words ever could and quietly left the room.
It took a second for Mary to move, to go after the boy with the instinct to offer him comfort. “Can you please keep an eye on the children?” she asked Cassandra and Emily as she popped into the kitchen. The two friends were already putting the clean dishes away. “I have to check on Peter.”
No Ordinary Duke: The Crawfords Page 3
