by Janet Woods
‘I do hope I’m not included in that cruel assessment.’
She slid him a sideways glance and smiled. ‘Am I to take it you think I’m a fool, then?’
‘On the contrary,’ Seth said smoothly. ‘I think you’re a rare combination of beauty and brains. And you blush delightfully when I compliment you.’
‘It’s the steam.’
The grin he tossed her made her blush even more. As much as Joanna tried not to, she rather liked Seth Adams.
He took Toby’s garments up from the chair, handing them over to her as they were needed. Afterwards, he carried the bath into the garden to empty the contents on to the vegetable patch, as if it were a domestic task he performed every day of his life. Joanna’s cynicism asserted itself, telling her it was an action designed to disarm her.
When he returned, she headed up the stairs with her son. ‘I won’t be long.’
Joanna rocked Toby protectively against her breast, her mouth a kiss away from his sweet head, so her breath stirred the fine strands of his dark hair. Soon, Toby’s eyes began to droop and he fell asleep, his lashes a dark sweep against his translucent skin. Love for him almost overwhelmed her as she kissed his flushed cheek and laid him gently in his cot. With luck, he would sleep for a couple of hours while she got on with the washing.
But first she must give her guest some refreshment before she sent him on his way – for send him away she must.
The sound of hammering came to her ears as she drew a curtain across the window. Seth was in the garden, repairing the hole in the hen house that Toby had pushed himself through. The hens were huddled in a tight bunch at the far end of the run, their necks bobbing up and down as they watched him through nervous eyes and clucked amongst themselves.
Joanna knew how threatened they felt. They assumed the same nervous stance each time she selected one for the pot. But this time her attention was not fixed on the hens, but on the cockerel.
Seth was in a crouching position, the material of his trousers pulled tightly across his buttocks. Tossed by the breeze, his hair seemed spun through with sunshine and the muscles under his shirt sleeves moved easily with his every exertion. He had removed his jacket, revealing a pearl-grey waistcoat. Her glance followed the sinuous line of him.
Desire pulled at the very core of her. With an effort she tore her eyes away from the temptation. But it was harder to control her thoughts, though she told herself it was too soon after Alex. Then she remembered the woman’s glove she’d found amongst Alex’s clothes, the smell of perfume on him. Racked by a strong sense of betrayal, her next intake of breath was almost a sob of anguish. She gazed at Seth again. It had been over a year since she’d felt a man’s arms around her. But it couldn’t be this man – this Judas.
He turned, his glance coming up to the window, giving a lazy sort of smile. He unfolded to his feet, arching his back into his hands to ease it. His body displayed a tensile strength and grace with the movement.
Joanna closed her eyes for a moment, giving in to the excitement of the craving to touch him. When she opened them it was to look away and she despised her lack of control as she went down to the kitchen.
The package he’d brought had been moved to the kitchen table. It smelled delicious as she unwrapped it. She placed a small portion of the dark fruity cake it contained in her mouth. A decay of autumn fruits was released against her tongue, an aroma of brandy exploded into her brain. It was a cake of great riches, made for lovers to sample.
Only he wasn’t her lover, Joanna thought crossly as she made the tea and cut a couple of slices of the cake. She called Seth in when the hammering ceased. He was still shrugging into his coat when he entered.
She would allow him the opportunity to explain, she thought.
Automatically folding down his collar for him, she found herself gazing into his astute grey eyes. She took a hasty step backwards, picking up the tray to create a barrier between them. ‘Thank you for bringing the cake.’
‘Kate helped our cook make it. She insisted that I deliver it personally to you.’
‘How is your niece?’
‘Perfectly well, though rather disgruntled at being left behind. She sends her best wishes.’
‘You should have brought her with you. Children are so delightfully honest.’ Joanna handed him the best cup and led the conversation to where she wanted it to go. ‘It was good of you to come all this way just to deliver a cake.’
The smile he offered was charmingly wry. ‘You know perfectly well I didn’t do that. I came to see you again, Joanna.’
Deep down where it mattered, she was disappointed by the smooth delivery of his answer. Quietly, she told him, ‘I don’t believe you.’
His laughter rang out, slightly nonplussed, but deep and pleasurable, nevertheless. ‘Are you always so blunt?’
‘Not always, Seth, and don’t try to convince me that you are, either.’ She drew his card from her pocket and threw it on the table. ‘What are you trying to find out this time?’
He sobered as his eyes came up to hers, wary now. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Of course you do, Seth.’ How clever he was, and how revealing the tiny expression of shame growing in those eyes when she placed before him the dreaded name, ‘Lord Durrington?’
Heart pounding, Joanna stared at him, hoping he’d deny it, for she was acting only on her instinct that the two visits were connected.
He didn’t deny it. After a while he leaned forward to gently kiss her cheek, saying before he rose to his feet, ‘Forgive me for not telling you.’
Forgive him, when her beloved son’s future was at stake? Her mind flooding with fury, she said, ‘I came here with my son to recover from the death of a man who I loved. Now the future of his child has been threatened by the actions of someone I’d begun to trust.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Do you really expect me to forgive you?’
‘Allow me to explain—’
‘No! Allow me to explain why my doors were locked. Lord Durrington and his servant Bisley paid me a visit. You knew that, though, didn’t you?’
He inclined his head.
‘They threatened me. Now I spend my days and nights in fear, in case Toby is stolen from me, or harmed in some way. What if it was Kate they were after?’
His face paled. ‘I intended to tell you about this, that’s why I came here.’
She took a step towards him, keeping her voice low so as not to rouse Toby. ‘That’s not what you just indicated, you conniving snake. You thought you could flatter me, so I would lower my guard.’ Throwing caution to the winds she lashed out at him, whipping her hand across his face. ‘Get out!’
Joanna couldn’t believe she’d hit him, nor the feeling of satisfaction the act had brought to her. Tears came into her eyes as she stared at the crimson patches beginning to burn on his cheeks. ‘I was beginning to like you, Seth, but you’ve turned out to be hollow. Have you no conscience?’
‘You’re angry now, Joanna.’ When he placed his hand in caress against her face, her instinct was to nestle against his palm. Instead, she jerked away from his touch.
He drew in a deep breath at that, shrugged, then said, ‘I’ll never do anything to harm you or your son, Joanna, I promise. Please believe it. I can’t leave you like this. I’ll be back when you’ve had time to calm down.’
Picking up his hat, gloves and cane he was gone, closing the door gently behind him and leaving her shaking.
Seth climbed the steep hills of Portland up a winding path along the cliff edge, striding out so his thighs and calf muscles protested when he reached the top.
His face still felt roasted from Joanna’s slap. The shameful indignity of being treated that way by a woman made his cheeks glow even more. But he conceded that he’d deserved the treatment she’d meted out. He’d underestimated her intelligence to start with. She’d lulled him into a false sense of security before showing her hand today. Nothing but complete honesty would redeem him in her eyes now.
The inn he chose to purchase his lunch from was filled with smoke and noise, which temporarily faded into astonished silence when he entered. A well-dressed stranger in their midst was a rare event. Leather-faced quarrymen, most of them were, dressed in shirtsleeves, cloth caps and braces. There was a strong smell of sweat about them, suggestive of the honest toil they engaged in.
Not that Seth could understand much of the talk, for the locals’ voices were gravelly from inhaling years of stone dust, and they constantly cleared their throats with a rattling sound.
Seth placed some money on the bar then carried his meal of a large, crusty pork pie and a glass of beer outside. There he seated himself on a rickety rustic bench, which allowed him a view over the sea. He attacked the pie with some gusto, for he hadn’t eaten that morning, and was hungry.
When his appetite was satisfied, he looked beyond the pitted and scarred immediacy of his surrounds to the delightful vista that was spread out below him. A beach of pebbles scimitared towards the haze that surrounded Weymouth. A train chugged along a breakwater, still under construction and slicing into the sea after several years of toil. Behind the steam engine, trucks piled high with stone were dragged, their destination the next section of the breakwater. There were sightseers walking along the line – marvelling at this fine feat of engineering, no doubt.
Beyond, sailing boats and steamers plied busily back and forth on a sea of shifting blue glass. A steam yacht with side paddles patrolled the length of the breakwater. He could just make out the figures on her deck.
Soon, Seth was surrounded by an arc of seagulls, who’d sailed in on the breeze to salvage the crumbs from his feet. Around him the island was a constant hive of industry, making his own profession seem insignificant by comparison.
Although Seth had always like to pit his mind against a puzzle, there was something grubby about the contemplation of aiding a powerful man to part a mother from her child. Listening to his conscience was something Joanna had forcibly reminded him of today.
Joanna Rushmore’s pa had been a quarryman who, by all accounts, had been a decent and hardworking man. He’d built the cottage Joanna and her son lived in with his own two hands, a monument to his skill that would withstand centuries of storms.
Seth had no such practical skills himself. He lived on his wits, and he craved adventure. The arrival of Kate had kept him grounded, something he’d regretted at first, although he wouldn’t be without her now.
What if it were Kate? she’d said, and he knew he’d kill to defend his niece, if he had to. Thus, Joanna Morcant would defend her own to her last breath. She deserved more than consideration. She demanded it.
A little while later Seth set off down the hill, hoping Joanna’s anger had abated enough for her to accept his apology.
He went in through the back way. On her washing line several undergarments danced in the breeze. A petticoat flicked a miniature rainstorm over him from a frilly hem.
The back door was open to the sunshine. Joanna was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in washing. Strands of dark hair lay damply against her face as she expended her energy on a garment applied to the washboard. She didn’t look up as his body blocked the sunshine in the doorway.
He knocked gently on the door jamb. ‘Joanna, it’s me. Seth.’
‘I saw you coming down the hill.’ The anguish he’d caused her was an accusation in her voice. Lifting the skirt of her apron, she dabbed her face before gazing at him through eyes the colour of crushed bluebells.
Guilt filled him to the brim. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘A soapsud went in my eye.’
‘Liar!’ he said softly.
The corner of her mouth quirked. ‘Say what you have to, Seth Adams. I’m busy.’
‘I’m sorry, and yes, I do have a conscience, which is why I’d decided not to work for Lord Durrington. It was a decision I made before I came here today. Rest assured, I’ve told him nothing he didn’t already know.’
Head slanted to one side, her eyes sharpened as she regarded him. ‘What’s the nothing you didn’t tell him?’
He was beyond being surprised by her. ‘Conjecture.’
‘Such as?’
‘Why there’s no birth recorded for Joanna Rose Rushmore.’
She shrugged and her eyes momentarily flickered away from him. ‘Perhaps my ma and pa forgot.’
Her ma? Instinct told Seth something didn’t ring true here, and Seth always went with his instincts. He sifted through the information and conversations he’d stored in his brain, remembering when Joanna had tried to sell him some jewellery. She’d said it had belonged to her mother. But not the mother of this humble home she’d been raised in, surely.
The old man at the cemetery had said she’d washed ashore in a cradle. The graves from the wreck told their own tale. There was only one conclusion he could reach, the same one he’d examined, then discarded as too improbable. Her mother was Honor Darsham and her father Tobias Darsham. He wondered if she knew that.
‘Not many parents would forget to register the birth of an only child when it was born. What about your marriage to Tobias Darsham?’
Despite her casual voice, her face closed up and her eyes were wary. ‘What about it?’
‘You’ve never once talked about him.’
‘Tobias Darsham was a good man. We were wed for only a couple of weeks when he drowned. His body was washed ashore many months later, and is buried at Southampton.’
Seth already knew that, and also that Alex Morcant and a lawyer called James Stark, who’d once handled the legal business for the Darsham and Morcant Shipping Company, had identified his body. ‘You called your child after Tobias. Didn’t Alex mind?’
Her head slanted to one side. ‘Toby bears both their names. Tobias had always been a father figure to Alex while he was growing up. Alex was pleased I’d named him after Tobias. It was like a tribute to the man who had loved and mentored him.’
‘Alex would have regarded Tobias as a grandfather to your son, then.’
Joanna shifted from one foot to the other and tried to make light of the suggestion, though it clearly disturbed her. ‘You’re quite ruthless in your interrogation, Seth. Are you sure you’re not still working for Lord Durrington?’
She was clever in shifting the focus of the conversation, but he intended to shift it back. ‘Durrington is not the type to let the matter rest, or to allow any stone to remain unturned. If he can gain control of your son by discrediting you, he will – and he’ll hire someone more ruthless and less discreet than me. Did you love Tobias Darsham?’
‘Not when we first married, though we were drawn to each other. He helped me when I was attacked. Tobias was looking for a wife and I had nowhere to go, so he offered me his protection and a home.’ Her smile came then and her face was transformed from sadness to joy. ‘I grew to love him later.’
A strange statement when she’d only been married to the man for two weeks. Oddments such as this, when pieced together with other oddments, often made sense out of nonsense. Envy stabbed at him that a dead man could evoke such a smile in her, though, father or not.
Anxiety came to the fore. ‘Why does Lord Durrington want to investigate my first marriage?’
She knew why, but he wanted her to tell him. The anxiety in her eyes was replaced with awareness, then resignation. Her shoulders drooped a little as she sought for a convincing lie, so he felt sorry for her and helped her out. ‘You needn’t say anything, Joanna, I’ve already worked things out.’
The anguished little cry she gave touched his heart. When he took her in his arms she laid her head against his chest and whispered, ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Nothing. There’s one thing I’d like to know, though. It’s a rather delicate matter and I risk—’
‘My first marriage was in name only if that’s what you’re asking me, Seth,’ she said.
Seth admitted to himself he was relieved beyond measure. ‘Only an honourable man would
take his own life in such a situation.’
She started, then gazed up at him and smiled. ‘Yes, you’re right . . . Tobias Darsham was honourable.’
Her breasts were soft against his chest, her mouth a delicious curve. In the position they were in it was natural for him to incline his head and take advantage of what those soft lips had to offer, and it seemed natural for her to respond to his overture. The intimate and entirely distracting embrace was quickly terminated when there came the sound of voices and laughter, of footsteps running down the path.
Guiltily, they sprang apart.
‘Joanna, Mrs Abernathy said we had a visitor. Has Oliver arrived home?’ They bustled into the kitchen, two young women who looked delightfully alike. The laughter in their faces faded to disappointment as they gazed from Seth to Joanna. A few seconds later the expression was replaced by curiosity.
‘May I present my sisters-in-law, Lydia and Irene Morcant,’ she said. ‘They are living here until their brother returns from America.’
So this was the pair Lord Durrington had intended to debauch, the two girls whom the peer had evicted from their home without a moment’s remorse when his desire had been thwarted. Seth stifled a grin. No wonder there were so many petticoats drying on the line! He wondered how Joanna would explain him.
The glance she gave him was slightly flustered, but when he grinned encouragingly at her, she recovered quickly. ‘This is Mr Seth Adams, a friend of mine from London. He had business in Weymouth and dropped in to see how I was getting on.’
‘Then you must stay for tea, Mr Adams. Oh look, Irene. Fruit cake. How absolutely wonderful. I haven’t seen anything so delicious for months. You look flushed, Joanna. Allow me to take over your task while you tidy yourself up. If Mr Adams has come all this way to see you, you can’t entertain him in the kitchen, can she, Irene?’
‘Indeed not, Lydia. I despair of you, Joanna. Go and tidy your hair this minute, you cannot entertain a gentleman looking like a washerwoman.’
