by Cathie Dunn
Who am I fooling?
Chapter Four
Minnie woke when a shaft of sunlight tickled her eyes. She turned away and blinked. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the bright morning sun peeking through the gaps in the curtains.
“Oh no.” How late could it be? Panic surged through her. Suddenly awake, she checked her father’s pocket watch on the small table beside the bed. Just before nine o’clock. Relieved, she let out her held breath and she slid out of bed. Her feet hit the cold wooden floor and she shoved them quickly into her slippers. Hurried, she shuffled to the dressing table, dipped her hands into the cool water in the ceramic bowl she’d brought up the night before and blotted her face. Her mind sprang to life, and she patted her skin with a towel. She had much work to do today.
First, she’d explore the manor room by room, certain that some items might have to be replaced following years of neglect whilst others simply needed a good clean. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror as she disentangled her long tresses, she smiled. Her own home. Excitement washed through her.
Minnie pulled aside the heavy curtains to allow the full warmth of the sun to flood the room. She pushed open the windows and breathed in. Regardless of what had happened here in the past, she was going to be happy.
As she turned, her gaze fell on the dress, petticoats and corset lying in a heap on the chaise longue, and she cocked her head. “Now, how am I going to do this?” Of course, there was no-one to assist her, a detail she’d forgotten when she undressed the night before. She glanced at the portrait of the young woman, sending her a conspiratorial wink. “Wish me luck.” With swift hands, she dropped her nightdress on the bed, then picked up her half-unlaced corset.
Following her slow progress in the mirror, Minnie dressed, firmly intending to employ a maid today. A final glance in the mirror showed her looking presentable. The corset could be tighter, but it would do for now. She nodded.
She balanced the bowl of water as she slowly took the stairs. Her months at Aunt Eleanor’s house following Father’s death had taught her how to conduct menial household chores, and she was grateful to have gained the experience, even if Aunt Eleanor had proved to be a demanding employer.
When she reached the ground floor, a knock on the door made her jump. Water sloshed over the front of her black dress. “Who–?”
Her heart pounded. She set the bowl on the floor and looped her unbound hair into a loose plait. A wave of panic coursed through her. Under no circumstances could she see visitors now, with her dress soaked and her hair undone. To behave improperly was not an option, even though she was an unmarried girl living alone.
But you already had a man in your bedroom...
That was different! Shrugging off the memory, she leaned against the closed doors. “Who is this?”
“’Tis Beth, miss. Lord Drake sent me to assist you.”
A maid? Minnie’s spirits rose. Excited, she drew back the bolts, turned the heavy key, and pulled it open. In front of her stood a young girl resembling the lass she’d met at the inn on her arrival.
Her eyes wide, Beth peeked beyond Minnie into the hall. “He said…he asked Mother if Kitty or I could help you settle in.” The girl’s voice trembled a little.
“Come in, Beth. What a pleasure to see you. Don’t be afraid.” Minnie waved her inside and quickly shut the door in case the man was somewhere outside.
“Lord Drake?” Stunned, she stared. He had certainly been dressed like a gentleman but not once had he indicated a title.
“Aye. He persuaded my mother I should come.” Her wide-eyed gaze roamed the hall. “Kitty, my sister, is too scared, but I’m not.” She gave her voice a firm note, and nodded vigorously.
Sympathy flooded Minnie. “Come with me to the kitchen. The house is perfectly safe.”
She bent to pick up the bowl but Beth stopped her. “Allow me, miss.”
The kitchen was flooded with sunlight, the glow warming the room. “Please take a seat, Beth.”
Beth placed the bowl on a sideboard and did as she was bid.
Minnie sat opposite her, her mind whirling. Curious about the sudden elevation of Mr– Lord Drake, she couldn’t simply ask a servant. Gossip would be regarded the same way in this remote place as it was in London. There had to be another way. “Now, tell me from the beginning. What did Lord Drake do?”
“He came to see Mother early this morning, asking if she could recommend a maid for you. Mother wasn’t keen–I’m sorry, miss, but as you know the manor is haunted. No-one in the village has ever gone near it since...” She swallowed, her eyes darting to the door as if expecting a ghost to appear through the solid wood. “I…I said I’d do it, but that I couldn’t promise for how long. And if it’s alright by you, I’d like to leave before it gets dark tonight.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap.
Minnie smiled. “You’re very brave, Beth, and I thank you for helping me. I could definitely use another pair of hands around the house. There is so much to do.”
“I’ll work hard, miss. I promise. What would you have me do first?”
A look outside the grimy window gave Minnie an idea. “How about washing some of the linens and delicate covers? They could dry in the sunshine whilst we complete other chores.”
Beth jumped up, keen to get started. “A good plan, miss.” Did the prospect of work chase away the girl’s unease or was she simply relieved to get outside the house? Well, it was a start.
As they entered Minnie’s bedroom, she stopped Beth from grabbing the bundle of discarded cloths. “Wait a moment. Could you tie my laces first? My corset moves too much and I fear it’ll chafe as we work.”
“Of course, miss.” Beth helped Minnie remove her still damp gown and loosen her petticoats. With deft hands, she untied the corset and tightened the lacing. “Before I forget, Lord Drake asked me to tell you that you could use one of Viscount Eaton’s mares while he’s looking for one for you to purchase.”
“How kind of him.” Minnie smiled. At least, she’d be able to reach the village swiftly.
“Oh, and he’ll be here soon to take you to lunch.”
Minnie held her breath, not just to enable Beth to pull the corset as tight as she could. Her heart raced.
***
“Thank you, John.” Gideon pointed to the side of the manor. “The stables are behind that wing. See if they’re still usable.”
“Yes, my lord.” The young man, astride the mare intended for Miss Minerva, took the reins of Gideon’s stallion and turned away.
“Oh, and if you spot a side saddle somewhere, please clean it so Miss Goodridge can use it when she wishes.”
Gideon lifted the gilded knocker and dropped it, the sound echoing into the hall. Moments later, Beth opened the door.
“Good day, my lord.” She lowered her gaze.
Gideon looked her up and down, grinning. Miss Minerva must have set the girl to work straight away. Her sleeves were folded up, revealing tanned arms, and an old, worn apron covered the front of her dress. “Good day, Beth. I see you’re busy already.”
The girl grinned. “Aye, I have been washing linens while Miss Goodridge is dusting off the furniture. This place will look like new when we’re done.” Pride in her voice, she closed the door behind him. “She’s in the parlor.” She took him to an open door along the lower corridor. Knocking, she poked her head inside the room. “Miss? Lord Drake has arrived.” She curtseyed briefly and rushed off toward the kitchen.
“Miss Goodridge.” He leaned against the door frame, trying to bite back a smile. He couldn’t. Grinning, he continued, “My, what a sight!”
Her eyes blazed. “Lord Drake.” Ah, so Beth had revealed his status. He’d had no choice but to risk it. The damage was done.
Gideon let his gaze roam over her form, clad in black, covered in specks of dust and cobwebs. Strands of dark hair, piled up loosely, framed her flushed face. She looked utterly enticing. “I see you’re making good progress. I’m glad Beth agreed to come.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “So am I. Thank you for arranging it.” Brushing off the worst of the dirt with her hands, she gestured to a set of chairs by the tall, open French doors leading to the garden. “Please be seated. I’ll ask Beth to bring tea.”
A rattling of crockery from along the corridor told him the girl had anticipated the request. An instant later, she entered, bearing a tray with delicate China cups and saucers and an intricate teapot. Miss Goodridge–or Beth–had clearly delved into the cupboards. Beth lowered the tray onto a round table and carried it to the chairs.
“Thank you, Beth.” He sat on a dust-free chair. “I’ll pour the tea.”
Beth smiled. “As you say, my lord.” She darted from the room.
Miss Goodridge seated herself opposite him as he poured the hot liquid carefully into the cups.
“I hope they won’t break,” he mused.
“The crockery is in good order. Everything was stacked away neatly.” Wonder shone in her gaze. “This house is incredible. I can’t believe it stood empty for so long.” She picked up cup and saucer, blowing the hot tea.
Heat seared through him as he watched her. The simplest movement sent his senses roaring. What was wrong with him? He shook his head, meeting her now quizzical gaze. “Yes, someone must have tidied everything after Bartholomew Walker…”
“…took his life.” Her sensible tone showed acceptance of the past. “I can’t imagine what went through his head. Incidentally,” she paused, “I haven’t visited the study yet. That’s the room where he reputedly did it.”
Gideon nodded, sensing his opportunity. “I’m sure all traces were removed. Would you like me to enter first?”
She smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind. I mean,” she took a deep breath, “I don’t even know you. I can’t possibly impose on your assistance all the time.”
“It’s a pleasure. It makes my days here more…intriguing.”
Miss Goodridge sipped her tea, her gaze on him. “What brings you to these shores, Lord Drake?” Wariness clouded her eyes.
She deserved a truthful response. But he couldn’t tell everything. Not yet.
“I’m here on family business. My old friend, Viscount Eaton, owns a manor three miles from here, and he insisted I stay there instead of an inn.”
“But what exactly are you doing?” She set down the saucer and cup, but not before he’d noticed her hands were shaking. A sign of nerves? She folded them in her lap.
He had to admire her perseverance. “A distant ancestor of mine came from Trekellis. As London bores me to death, I’m diverting myself by trying to unravel her history.” The truth, even if he left out the link to Miss Minerva’s inheritance.
“Ah,” she said, looking past him to the overgrown gardens–and the sea beyond. He could see it in her face. She deemed him a dandy, a bored rich man in search of distraction. Not proud of the suggested insult, the impression had to do for now.
“But tell me, how did you come to inherit Trekellis?”
She shifted in her seat. “The manor always belonged to the family of my grandfather’s older step-brother, Bartholomew Walker. Both men shared a mother who died when Grandfather was young. They weren’t close, with Bartholomew being raised by his father’s relatives. On his suicide, the property fell to Grandfather as there were no other heirs, but he didn’t want it.” She hesitated. “I guess he considered his step brother to be guilty of murdering his wife.”
The lady in the painting. “Quite understandable,” he murmured.
“One day, a disgruntled businessman revealed in the papers that Father was related to a man accused of murder. As a result, Father’s customers avoided him and his business floundered. When he died, I had very little to call inheritance, so I moved to my Aunt Eleanor, Father’s sister. Father never once mentioned this place to me.”
Ah, hence her modest appearance. The pieces began to fall into place. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “But?”
She stared out over the grassy expanse. “On my 21st birthday, I received a letter from Father’s solicitor with the deeds to Trekellis Manor. I questioned Aunt Eleanor and the whole story came out. She wanted me to stay with her, but I was craving excitement.” Her gaze met his, unblinking. “I wanted it.”
Her heightened sense of adventure, her daring approach to simply move into a haunted building and make it habitable, intrigued him. Gideon’s mouth went dry, his breath caught in his throat as he drowned in the amber pools of her eyes. The urge to kiss her hit him when his gaze dropped to her full lips, her wide smile inviting.
He wanted her.
Chapter Five
Lord Drake’s deep blue eyes seared through her. He barely seemed to breathe, having put down his cup. Minnie’s own breath hitched.
“Hettie…”
She blinked the same moment as Lord Drake’s eyes scanned the room behind them. Had he heard it, too, the male voice? Carefully, her gaze drifted through the parlor. It was empty.
No, this was silly. Her heartbeat was pounding a steady beat in her ears. It must have been her imagination.
Lord Drake leaned back, one leg over the other, fingertips together as if in prayer. “Your family history is fascinating, Miss Goodridge. As I said, I’d be glad to assist. And no,” he raised a hand when she opened her mouth, “it’s no encumbrance at all.”
It was obvious he hadn’t heard the whisper at all.
“Thank you.” Relief flooded through her. She shrugged off her unease. “I’d be grateful if you could have a look at the study. But not today.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.
Minnie smiled. “Beth said you arranged a horse for me?”
“Yes, the mare is stabled. John, Viscount Charles’ stable hand, is settling her in.”
She waved a hand in the direction of the garden. “It’s such a lovely day and I’ve been busy indoors all morning. I’ve only had a brief glimpse at the village, and none at the countryside apart from the brief journey here.”
“Splendid. I’ll have him saddle the horses, then I’ll accompany you across the grounds.” He rose. “Well, if he found a side saddle for you, that is.”
“Yes, there is one,” Minnie said. “No doubt, he found it by now.”
His black brows knitted together. “You went into the stables? In the dark?”
Was he concerned, or annoyed? “It was still dusk, and I didn’t venture all the way.” She shouldn’t have to justify her explorations to him.
“Oh, I’m relieved, in that case.” He stopped in the doorframe. “I shall see you at the front in, say, fifteen minutes?”
Minnie nodded.
As promised, he was already waiting when Minnie opened the front door in her riding habit, having asked Beth’s help with dressing. The girl wasn’t pleased about being in the house alone but with John around, she agreed she’d be safe.
A breeze stirred as Minnie mounted the mare with John’s help. Lord Drake was already astride a beautiful chestnut stallion. To her relief, the mare proved kind and patient, and within minutes they rode side by side.
“It’s going to take weeks to clear the garden,” she said as her gaze drifted across the unkempt grounds. Sadness overcame her at the thought of such willful neglect.
Lord Drake agreed. “Yes, it’s good of John to make a start but I’m going to ask Charles’ gardener for help. The weeds have grown everywhere.” He faced her. “Shall we head out along the path to the cliff top? That will give you a sweeping view over your estate.”
Minnie’s heart soared. “How wonderful!” Her estate.
A sense of belonging engulfed her. Once the past was properly laid to rest, Trekellis Manor would make a lovely home.
For her alone?
Beside her, Lord Drake seemed to be deep in thought. His gaze aimed ahead, his body relaxed, Minnie wondered again why he helped her. Yes, he had the time and inclination, but surely he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have any ulterior motives. That’s what Father had alwa
ys warned her about–men and their motives.
That was why she–at twenty-one years of age–was still unmarried, never been engaged or even remotely of interest to any man. Granted, her lack of a generous dowry hadn’t endeared her to the eligible bachelors at home either.
But she was no longer in Canterbury and Trekellis Manor was now her home.
She finally had property, but she didn’t need a man. Minnie stuck her chin forward, her head held high.
“Are you well, Miss Goodridge?”
“Of course, why do you ask?”
He grinned. “You look determined enough to chase away ghosts.”
“Not ghosts,” she laughed, “but men.” She urged the mare into a canter.
Lord Drake caught up within seconds, and for a mile, they followed the swerving outline of the path. The droning of the sea grew louder, the breeze picking up.
“Wait a moment.” She brought her mare to a halt and adjusted her hat and shawl which had become askew in the wind. ‘We should slow down, this close to the cliffs.” A sudden sense of trepidation coursed through her.
At a weathered gate, the path ended. Lush grass stretched beyond, until it stopped sharply. The cliff’s edge.
“Allow me.” He helped her off the mare and tied the horses’ reins to a stake. Opening the gate, he let her through before he secured it again behind him.
“Take my arm, Miss Goodridge. The ground appears uneven in places.”
Spotting rabbit holes in the knee high grass, Minnie was grateful for his support. As she slid her arm through the crook of his elbow, a surge of heat seared through her. Her cheeks flamed but fortunately the breeze cooled her face instantly. With her free hand, she clutched her hat.
“How far can we go? Is it safe?”
He shrugged. “A few yards at most. Up to there, perhaps.” He pointed to the beginning of a slope ahead.
She nodded, relishing the fresh air. Canterbury had been so…stuffy. “Home.”
