by Jenna Jaxon
“And if all was not well?”
“Then he’d have to amputate the leg and hope that saved the man’s life.”
Lady Kersey winced.
“And in that case, or if Mr. Tate were to die, we would need to make arrangements about the farm itself.”
“Arrangements?” She looked at him blankly.
“Yes, my lady. We would need to find a new tenant for it, if Mr. Tate can’t work the fields.”
“What?” The countess’s dismay was tinged with outrage. “We cannot turn the family out to starve.”
“We would have no choice, Lady Kersey. You must see that.” Hugh hated the way she was now looking at him, as though he’d proved himself the villain in some Drury Lane drama. “The farm has to be worked or the estate gets no value from it.”
“Could Mrs. Tate not work it? She and her children?”
“I daresay she knows almost nothing about planting or cultivation of the crops and there’s only one child, her eldest who is eleven, who could help at all.” He shook his head. “Even if Tate survives, if he loses his leg, we would have to replace him with someone who can make the farm produce.”
Even before he finished speaking, the countess shook her head. “No, there must be some other way, Mr. Granger. I cannot countenance a family being treated thusly just because the husband is incapacitated.”
“But, my lady . . .” As much as he admired her conviction, Hugh could see that Lady Kersey needed to understand how Mr. Tate’s injury had changed his family’s circumstances, perhaps forever. He sighed. “Let us wait and see how Mr. Tate gets on. There’s no use borrowing trouble. Best wait until you own it.”
“I agree, Mr. Granger.” The lady smiled at him again, and the afternoon seemed to brighten. “I will pray very hard for Mr. Tate’s swift recovery.” She went silent for a moment, then took a deep breath as though girding herself for another battle. “Can you tell me if there is a dower house or property on the Kersey estate?”
“A dower house?” It was Hugh’s turn to be startled. “Why, yes, my lady. About a quarter of a mile from the main entrance to Kersey Hall. But it’s been unused for more than twenty years.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip, her teeth worrying the tender flesh. “Would it take much work to make it habitable again?”
Hugh had visited the property many times in the years he’d been employed by Lord Kersey, to inspect for damage, the last time almost a year ago. “Last year when I went on the inspection tour of the property after harvest, it had sustained a little damage to one corner of the drawing room due to an oak limb that had fallen and broken out a window. We repaired some minor damage to the floor and walls and replaced the window completely.” Hugh raised an eyebrow. Why would the lady have such a sudden interest in the dower house? “The house itself is sound. It might require some minor repairs here and there. The curtains and bedclothes would likely need to be replaced, but other than a thorough cleaning and checking the flues to make sure they draft properly, there is nothing major that needs doing. The house could be ready to be occupied within a week or two.”
An eagerness lit Lady Kersey’s face and she rose from the stone bench. “That is excellent news, Mr. Granger. Would it be possible for me and Lady John to view the property today?”
“Today, my lady?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. Lady Kersey had never asked about the dower house before. Why this sudden interest? Of course he would never question the lady on the matter, still it seemed most odd . . . unless she’d heard news that the Kersey heir had been located. That would make her questions not only reasonable, but of the utmost importance if she suspected she would no longer be welcome at Kersey Hall. “Why, yes, I can take you there as soon as you can be ready. Shall I have the carriage brought around?”
She wrinkled her brow, an eagerness in her face and an excited tension in her slim body. “Oooh, I would love to ride, but my cousin might prefer the carriage. Let me return to the house and ask her.” A gleeful smile spread across her lips and she placed a small hand on his arm. “Thank you so much, Mr. Granger.”
Their eyes met and Hugh had the sensation of falling into dark pools that might be fathoms deep. To have made this lovely woman happy seemed now to be his greatest accomplishment. “You are most welcome, my lady.”
She picked up her skirts and scampered up the steps, outdistancing him in moments.
Mouth dry and heart beating a painful tattoo in his chest, Hugh let her go. As he had said, he knew better than to borrow trouble, but he knew it when it came knocking at his door. Nothing could come of these unexpectedly tender feelings for Lady Kersey. He was a gentleman, to be sure, but his prospects were as uncertain as the lady’s own future, and both dependent on the next Lord Kersey’s goodwill. On which neither of them could count to any degree at all. Best to treat this budding tendre as nothing more than a fleeting notion that was not to be pursued.
He started for the house, all too aware that what he thought with his head might not make a bit of difference to what had taken up lodging in his heart.
Chapter Three
Although she’d not run this fast in almost a year, Maria sped toward Kersey Hall as though she were attempting to fly. Her spirits had risen so abruptly she suspected she might be able to do just that if she could concentrate on flight for a minute or two. There were too many other exciting things, however, to contemplate instead. Mr. Granger’s revelation that there was a dower property with a house in need of only minor repairs had made her heart flutter, the possibility that she might have found a safe haven sending a wave of relief surging through her body. The rush of heat that had poured through her when she’d grasped Mr. Granger’s arm, however, had certainly had nothing to do with the safety the dower house might provide.
A tingling warmth had shot up her arm when she’d laid her hand on him, the hard, strong muscle of him evident even through his linen and jacket. They’d been so close—closer than she ever remembered being to him before—the scent of the fresh lemon and rosemary cologne he used had filled her nose with a heady aroma that now seemed to cling to her as well. A clean, yet masculine smell she liked very much. So different from the heavy bergamot with which Alan used to all but drench himself.
Maria slowed as she approached Kersey Hall. She was still in mourning, even if she did not actually mourn her husband’s passing very much. Clearly she should not be relishing another man’s cologne, nor his very masculine form and presence. And she certainly had appreciated Mr. Granger’s imposing figure when he’d topped the rise and started down the steps toward her just now. Nice broad shoulders set up his powerful frame without making him too terribly big. His height, too, was very pleasing as he did not tower over her as most men did. Today he’d been dressed for riding, in a blue jacket and light brown buckskins that had subtly emphasized his narrow waist and hips. Making her wonder what it would be like to be held against that taut, muscular body.
A rush of fire to her face made her clap her hands over her cheeks to hide the telltale red. She should not be thinking such things. Not about anyone, but certainly not about Mr. Granger. He always seemed so serious about his work, it must be uppermost in his mind at all times. Although he’d been deferential toward her, Maria doubted he saw her as anything other than his late employer’s wife and probably never would. That thought sent a pang of regret to her heart.
Shaking her head to wipe the image of Mr. Granger from her mind, she started for the house again, slowly. She could not allow her feelings to lead her into yet another disastrous entanglement. What she had allowed to happen with Alan could not be repeated with Mr. Granger. She’d learned a thing or two about the world—and about men—in the past year. A woman needed to be on her guard every moment and keep her heart shielded unless she wanted it broken time and time again. She’d let her passions rule her last year and a dalliance had turned into marriage to a man who had only pretended to love her in order to gain an heir. Such hurt and disappointment she wo
uld not countenance again. And of course there was her child to think about now as well. She must put these inappropriate thoughts about the steward out of her mind and concentrate on finding a way to provide for herself and little Jane. That would begin with this tour of the dower house.
Determined to act only in her own and her daughter’s best interest from now on, Maria mounted the steps to the house, intent on finding her cousin and persuading her to come chaperone her visit to the dower property. Not that she didn’t trust Mr. Granger to act the perfect gentleman. Rather she needed to ensure that she remained the perfect lady.
* * *
The carriage rumbled along the short, disused driveway that led to Francis House, the small manor that had served the dowagers of the Garrett family for two centuries. Maria pressed her small nose to the window, drinking in the autumn landscape of orange and gold leaves glittering in the afternoon sun, and sighed. “This is a beautiful prospect, don’t you think, Jane?”
“It is indeed.” Her cousin peered out the window on the other side. “This could be the perfect place to raise little Jane. Near enough to the Hall for her to know her heritage and far enough from the new earl and his family so that you will have some independence in what you do.”
“If he is so generous as to allow us to stay, and provide for our maintenance.” Maria sat back on the leather seat, her worries about the future returning with a sharp jolt. “Remember, I will have no funds to live on, even if we have a roof over our heads.”
“Could you apply to your parents for an allowance, do you think?”
Jane’s idea was not new to Maria. She’d contemplated such a request ever since Mr. Granger had affirmed the existence of a dower house. Living there quietly with the child would be preferable to imposing on her parents, although they might instead wish for her to return to Oxfordshire to be close to them. “I have considered that, yes. First let us see if the house will suit. If it is too large, that plan may not be feasible.”
The carriage came to a halt on the circular driveway before a stately redbrick house, and Mr. Granger appeared to hand them down.
Jane peered at the structure. “I would not describe it as ‘too large’ at all. Nor terribly inviting.”
Perhaps a quarter of the size of Kersey Hall, the two stories of Francis House were set evenly, in a symmetrical box with chimneys at either end. A short flight of steps led to the front door, stone urns on either side that should have held flowers but instead stood overgrown with weeds. Empty windows both upstairs and down gave the house a distant look, as though it were standing back, judging them.
“It hasn’t been in use since the old earl’s mother died, my lady, in 1795 so I’ve been told,” Mr. Granger said, closing the carriage door. “The house should have been kept up better, perhaps, but his lordship never married, so there was no expectation of its being used for many years. He only asked for a yearly inspection and cleaning, which has been carried out meticulously under my supervision.” He led them up the stairs and unlocked the door. “However, when I reported to Lord Kersey that the curtains needed replacing, or the floor in the library was sagging, he always waved it away. So while there are not significant repairs or replacements required, there are many small ones.” Opening the door, Mr. Granger waited for them to enter. “Welcome to Francis House, ladies.”
The narrow entry hall gave onto a staircase at the far end leading to the first floor. To the right a drawing room yawned, empty save for a large shape under a dust sheet that might be a sofa. Maria poked her head inside. A good-sized room that could become quite cozy with more furniture and a good fire. They continued down the corridor, past the library, music room, and the breakfast room, all mostly empty and a little dusty, but still quite charming. “How many bedrooms are there, Mr. Granger?”
“Six, although two are larger than the others. The dowager’s chamber is this way.” He led them up the curving staircase to a largish apartment that included a dressing room and bathing chamber. The prospect from the chamber was fine as well, overlooking the gardens and a pond beyond.
“What must the last dowager have had in mind when she installed such an extravagant space in her chamber just for bathing?” Maria could see little of the windowless room, part of the dressing room that had been walled off. To have set aside that much of her apartments to ensure she could bathe in private was luxury indeed.
“Perhaps something to do with creature comforts, my dear.” Jane cut her eyes from Maria to Mr. Granger, then smothered a smile. “There is so much that can be done for one in a private bath that one cannot have done in a more public area.”
“It holds a central tub and has heated racks for warming the towels.” Mr. Granger nodded toward the chamber, but he glanced at Jane then backed away and into the bedroom. “Next time you come I’ll bring a light so you can view it properly. If you approve of the property, that is.”
Turning toward the window, Maria clasped her hands together. “Oh, who would dislike this charming prospect? Or the wonderful conveniences, such as this bathing chamber? Do you truly think I might be able to live here, Jane?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I see no reason why not. If you settle in before the heir takes residence, such deference in giving way to his position may go far toward him allowing you and little Jane to remain here permanently.” Her gaze fixed on the steward. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Granger?”
“Quite right, my lady.” The man stood, suddenly unsteady on his pins. “If his lordship sees that you are amenable to living here, leaving the main hall for him and his family without any fuss, he may wish to appear magnanimous by allowing you to reside here.” Mr. Granger suddenly dispelled the serious nature of his comments, with a boyish grin. “At least that is what many gentlemen prefer to persuade themselves they are doing, rather than turning his distant relations out into the road and being gossiped about afterwards.”
“Do you think he will turn us out, Mr. Granger?” Panic shot a lump into Maria’s throat until she could scarcely breathe. That would mean utter disaster for her and her child. “What would Lord Kersey have done?”
The young man’s brows furrowed. “Do you mean your husband, my lady? You would know how he would handle such a problem better than I.”
“No, no, the old Lord Kersey.” She glared at Mr. Granger. “I know only too well what arrangements my husband would have made for a widow over whom he held the slightest advantage.”
Jane’s strangled expression as she hastily moved to the window made Maria want to hide herself in the darkened bathing chamber, but she refused to do that. What she’d said about Alan, although not fit for mixed company, was nevertheless the truth as she had come to know it. She must pray nightly that the next Lord Kersey would not have such evil proclivities.
Mr. Granger had taken the opportunity to stare intently out the window toward the pond in the distance. “Just so, my lady. I did know his lordship, your husband’s uncle, very well indeed. And I can assure you, he would have thought it his duty to the family to make a home for the widow of his relative, whether or not he knew them.” Turning to face her, Mr. Granger smiled encouragingly. “I sincerely hope that trait has been passed down to the next Lord Kersey, my lady.”
“Th-thank you, Mr. Granger.” His kind blue eyes, vivid as crystal gemstones, and the sympathetic words made Maria’s heart beat faster. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away from the brilliant color that reminded her of the earrings she’d inherited from her grandmother. Blue topaz. The most beautiful color in the world.
“I think we should perhaps return to the house, my dear.” Jane’s firm hand grasped Maria’s arm and compelled her out of the bedchamber. “The sun will be setting all too soon and there are always dangers lurking . . . after dark.”
Her cousin’s pointed remark snapped Maria out of her reverie. Dear lord, how long had she been gazing at Mr. Granger like a moonstruck schoolgirl? Fire blazed in her cheeks so that the chilly air was a welcome relief when they reached the ou
tdoors. The coachman opened the door and Jane all but shoved her into the carriage, then followed her in and plumped down on the seat beside her.
Neither of them spoke, Maria silent in the hope Jane would say nothing about her very forward and revealing behavior at the dower house.
“Well, if a lady wished to be obvious about a flirtation, she had best come take lessons from you, my dear.” Jane spoke nonchalantly, although her meaning was clear enough.
“I don’t know what came over me, Jane.” She truly didn’t. One moment she’d been thinking that perhaps she might be all right if Lord Kersey was as generous as the previous earl, and the next she couldn’t drag her gaze away from Mr. Granger’s enthralling eyes. “Do you think he noticed?”
With a snort, Jane sat back in the seat. “The man would have had to have been blind not to. But then”—her cousin’s eyes narrowed—“he seemed just as fascinated with staring into your face as you did with him.”
“Oh!” Maria resisted the urge to cover her blazing hot cheeks once more. “Did he really?”
Sighing, Jane shook her head. “Babes in the woods, both of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I will grant you Mr. Granger is a very handsome gentleman, with a great deal of good sense and kindness. However”—Jane stared straight into Maria’s face, unblinking, until Maria began to squirm on the seat—“you cannot begin to think warmly about someone of such unremarkable prospects.”
Maria blinked. She’d been certain Jane was going to scold her for having “warm” thoughts about anyone while in half mourning. “How do you know what his means are?”
“He is a steward, my dear. If his prospects were better, he would be tending to his family estate, not someone else’s.” Jane sighed. “That is a shame, I’ll grant you. He runs the estate efficiently, seems very knowledgeable about all aspects of the business end of things, yet he’s got lovely manners and is, I must say, very handsome indeed. But he’s likely a second or third son of a noble family, or from the upper gentry, with no expectation of any sort of substantial inheritance. Which makes him ineligible for you.”
