But, miss, it’ll be all over grown and we’ll not get stuff planted in time,’ Jem burst out in a horrified voice. ‘Harry can get it ready so’s were on target and all.’
How could she cope with him so close? She daren’t look at him in case she saw gloating, or Millie in case she saw sympathy.
‘Miss?’ Jem said anxiously.
Lydia’s heart sank. She really had no option. ‘Of course, Jem, if it suits you. I’m sure His Lordship…’
‘Harry,’ Harry and Jem said together.
She inclined her head, and made a mental note to be out or unavailable as much as possible when he was around. Unfortunately, it was difficult to be starchy in the face of such politeness and good humour. Annoyance with Harry would have to wait. ‘Harry will be a willing labourer. After all, you can show him how to dig.’
Harry raised one eyebrow. ‘No need – I’ve had plenty of practice.’ Jem shot him a surprised look.
‘Waterloo. A day of death and in all honesty no victors. We did our best to honour our dead, but sometimes…’ His eyes were bleak and Lydia knew he saw images so horrific no one else could really comprehend what he had lived through and others had not.
‘Then, as from tomorrow, I’ll expect you here with Jem when he says,’ she said to lighten the atmosphere. ‘He knows what’s needed.’ And when I am sure I can cope, I will have a chance to get you alone and find out what game you are playing.
‘Dig over the veg patch and weed the borders,’ Jem said humorously. ‘So’s we can put in the crops and stop the roses from being smothered. Do something with the lawn and check the river wall isn’t likely to fall in on itself. I know, miss, like you say, not really my job, but I can check it out while we’re there and report back, eh?’
Lydia laughed. Jem had told her categorically he wanted to be more than a general dogsbody, but for her he’d do what she needed, be it with soil or cement. ‘As you say.’ She rose and Jem did an awkward bow and tipped his cap.
‘Around nine, once the snap’s gone out of the air, miss.’
Lydia looked at Harry, who stood back watching the exchange with a whimsical expression. ‘That might be a tad too early for Harry, especially if he is used to town hours.’ She didn’t manage to keep the disparaging tone out of her voice. Millie shot her a sharp look and Harry kept his expression bland. Jem obviously saw or heard nothing amiss.
‘No, I’ll be here,’ Harry said urbanely. ‘I’m only a sloth in town when I’ve been carousing all night,’ he ended in a mocking tone.
Lydia flushed and bit her lip. He made her feel in the wrong so very easily and she resented it. Even if he was right.
Harry bowed a lot more elegantly than Jem had managed, and followed Jem out of the room. At the doorway he turned, looked back, and smiled. ‘Always at your service, Lady Lydia.’ The wink and the hot glance he gave her sent erotic shivers through her and her dress became much too tight and constricting.
Damn the man.
Millie laughed, and Lydia scowled. ‘Now what is that all about?’
‘You heard the man. He had business in the area, a ship coming in, and he’d be happy to let you and Jem be boss. I’d watch out, though, because he doesn’t seem to me to be a man to do anything without a reason. And it might not be as obvious as people think.
‘Hmm.’
That was what she worried about.
It was far too trite to say they’d see soon enough. Lydia changed the subject. ‘A stroll in the garden before bed?’
Millie raised one eyebrow and giggled. ‘Well, it might cool you off a bit.’
Chapter Thirteen
With the docking of his ship delayed for unspecified reasons, to his surprise Harry discovered an aptitude for gardening he didn’t know he had. Under Jem’s direction he learned to hoe and weed properly. Planted early potatoes and peas, and drowned more slugs in old ale than he thought possible. His muscles, never flabby, became more noticeable and toned and his skin coloured in the spring sunshine. Red glints in his hair became ever more pronounced and he needed a haircut. At Jem’s recommendation, he crossed the river and learned that, indeed, the ferryman did screech, the estuary crossing could be rocky, and the best whelks were to be found on the middle sandbank at low water. And the barber was mediocre at best.
He also purchased Lucifer for Jem, who seemed, once his shoulder mended, to have an affinity with the horse.
Another missive arrived at the inn with startling information. Mrs O’Connor had promised not to dun Jeremy until Harry discovered what was going on, and someone had evidently used his name to get part of each cargo arriving into England siphoned off.
Harry made a note to get Pugh to send Mrs O’Connor a token of thanks and forgot about that problem for the moment. The other posed a lot more difficulty. As it wasn’t him messing with the cargoes, he needed to find out who and why. His agent, one Terrence Merryworth, sounded anything but merry when he discovered he’d been duped, and agreed that, once the next ship was berthed, they would hopefully get to the bottom of it. Until then, Harry could do nothing but wait.
He rented a larger than average cottage on the green, moved out of the inn, and set up a temporary home, with Jem’s mother happily overseeing his household. Orchard House was a neat and tidy dwelling with three good-sized bedrooms and ample public space. It would do nicely for the duration.
Of Lydia he saw little except when she came out to see how well they were doing, garden-wise. For the moment he was content. She was puzzled as to why he made no move on her, that was obvious, and he made no attempt to change the status quo. When she wanted to know more she would ask.
Meanwhile her garden got tidier, Jem’s shoulder got better, and Harry got fitter. Three weeks after he’d arrived, Harry cleaned the spade and looked at his mentor. ‘I reckon you’re okay to take over again, don’t you? Especially as I saw you in the garden of Orchard House when I was paying the knife sharpener. If you do have time, feel free to do what is needed. After Lady Lydia, of course.’ He also debated asking Jem to accompany him to meet his ship, the Eliza Jane, which was due to dock the following day.
Jem reddened and rubbed the toe of his new work boots, paid for by Harry, who had noticed the lad’s old ones were worn through. ‘Seriously, now we’s done so much her garden’s a piece of cake. Orchard House now? Ah, I’m itching to get stuck in there. Don’t worry, Lady Lydia is first.’ He glanced sideways at Harry. ‘For you, too, I reckon.’
Harry blinked then laughed. ‘Found out. We know each other from London and, shall we say, have unfinished business. Nothing bad.’
Jem nodded. ‘I see the way you look at each other when you think no one is watching.’
He did? ‘Er, how’s that?’
Jem grinned. He’d long forgotten that, in his words, Harry was a toff and treated him as a compatriot and a friend. ‘Sheep’s eyes.’
‘Good lord.’ Was he that bad? ‘Never. Admiration maybe, but please not sheep’s eyes.’
Jem shook his head. ‘Sheep’s eyes. And another thing?’
Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. ‘Go on, hit me with it. Hangdog expression? Codfish, opened-mouthed expression? What else?’
‘Nah, nothing like that. You see, well…’ Jem stopped and shook his head. ‘No, I’m being cheeky, like.’
Harry laughed. ‘Never mind – cheek on. I can always put on my lor...’ He pulled himself up as he almost said ‘lordly, lofty, hoity-toity expression and decline to answer.’ He never intended to use his status like that.
‘Yes, well. You see, Ma was wondering why someone who was a lord with such fine linens and stuff would be a gardener. Then, well you asked me to pick up your roll of blunt from your room and there was a ring on the washstand, and I think it made me realise you really are a lord. And you’re happy helping me.’
Good God, Jem sounded confused. Harry thought over his words carefully. ‘I really am, both a lord and happy helping you. I have business in the area and it suits me to stop here. I hav
e the nasty impression someone is stealing from my ships and need to find out who. And, of course, to stop them.’
‘Tell me when you need help, and I’m ready. For you will, I reckon,’ Jem said with a wisdom beyond his years. ‘No one’s going to harm her, we’ll make sure of that.’
‘Thank you,’ Harry said wholeheartedly. ‘It is good to have you in her corner. However, I really do have other business in the area. I do have a ship in tomorrow; the pilot is due to guide it in on this next high tide, so tomorrow I need to see the local shipping agent again. And before you ask, I’ll burden you with the intelligence that I love Lady Lydia and intend to have her as my wife. If and when she agrees.’ He rocked back on his heels and shared a glance with Jem. ‘I just have to persuade her she wants the marriage as much as I do.’
‘Oh my.’ Jem whistled. ‘Now what?’
‘This is for your ears only. Something is well amiss’
Jem nodded solemnly, looking a lot older than his seventeen years. ‘No one will find that out from me. But how’s you going to sort out your ship?’
He’d thought of that. ‘I’m going to ask you to come with me as My Lord Birnham’s representative. Do you want to?’
Jem beamed. ‘Do I ever.’
Harry nodded, pleased at the lad’s response. ‘Then that’s tomorrow’s task if Lady Lydia can spare you.
‘Ah,’ Jem’s face fell, then he brightened. ‘I reckon she might, if you ask her’
Harry patted his shoulder. ‘I’ll sort it. Now off you go. I’ll see you at Orchard House in the morning, and we’ll get the ferry across.’ He watched Jem as the lad left the potting shed and went down the cinder path and through the gate into the lane before he locked up and slowly made his way to the side of the house. At this time of day, the Orsmans should be in their own rooms, Millie ditto, and if all things were equal, Lydia in the small room she had appropriated as her private domain. It overlooked the straggly fruit bushes that filled the narrow side beds and were a haven for numerous birds, despite each bush being netted.
As he hoped, the long, glass doors were open to let Lydia enjoy the sunny afternoon. It was such a contrast here to the weather in London or further north. At his home in Yorkshire it would still be cold enough for fires all day and thick cloaks outside.
The gravel scrunched under his feet as he made no effort to silence his footsteps. To startle Lydia was the last thing he intended. Before he got within two yards of the open aperture, she looked out and noticed him.
‘Harry?’
He watched as she checked that he was alone.
‘No Jem?’ she asked as he leaned on the wall and studied her. She looked tired, but in a way that seemed as if she preferred this sort of tiredness to any other. It intrigued him. Every time he saw her a new facet of her personality showed itself.
Harry shook his head. ‘He’s just gone. I hoped you could spare me a few moments of your time.’
Lydia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly. ‘What else is there to say?’
Did she not understand why? A brief gleam in her eyes made him think she was baiting him. Well, that could work two ways. Harry raised one eyebrow, checked his fingers were clean, and took hold of her hand to draw it to his mouth so he could press a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.
The soft gasp she gave as she swayed towards him was a soothing balm to his oft-shattered ego. Even though Lydia pulled back, he knew. Her breasts had brushed his shirt, her breath teased his skin, and her scent hit him and made him feel he had arrived home. It took every iota of his strength to pull back and not ravish her. However… He narrowed his eyes and watched as hers clouded over.
‘It’s formal or rip that rather fetching dress off you, my love.’ He shook his head and took a step back as she stared wide-eyed at him. ‘Ravishing is not normally my style, but I could make an exception here and now.’
‘Harry.’ She put one hand over her mouth and used the other one to steady herself. ‘You…’ Lydia frowned. ‘I am not so easily swayed.’
‘Lord, that came out wrongly,’ Harry said wryly. ‘I would never force you. I’m just frustrated. Do not know how to make you believe me and now… now, I’ve scared the life out of you. And all I wanted to ask was if there was a chance of us becoming friends again? For I thought we were until you ran away from me.’
Lydia continued to stare at him, until he began to worry. Had he read it all wrong? Did she truly not have even the smallest amount of affection for him?
‘Not from you, Harry,’ Lydia said earnestly at last. ‘Well, not just from you. Oh, you annoyed me, tried to block all my thoughts and ideas and ignored anything I wanted to say; but that I accept, reluctantly, is what to expect from a man of the ton. But it was others as well. I fled from that life. Yes, you were a part of it but, believe me, it was not only you. You, however, were a convenient scapegoat. Peers, parents, endless pressure to conform. I’d had enough. I could go so I did. I’d said that all along and no one believed me. I was stifled. Here I can breathe. I am my own person, and do as I think best for me. So the ton sent me here, not just you.’
Thank the Lord for that. ‘Then can we start again? Learn to like each other here, not in town?’
A more fanciful man would have said even the air was still, and expectant, as he waited for an answer.
****
The sense of relief that he could ask something so simple and straightforward was overwhelming. Lydia didn’t stop to think why. Or why she was now prepared to listen to him.
Perhaps it was being away from the stifling atmosphere of the ton? Of knowing she was now her own mistress and in charge of her destiny. That even if he wanted to – and she doubted he did – he could no longer ruin her.
His words about ravishment had not upset her, although it didn’t worry her he thought they had. Instead her toes had curled in her slippers and she took a step forward. The soft house shoes promptly slipped off and lay on the ground as her glance downwards, towards his homespun, heavy trousers, had confirmed his words.
‘I am flattered,’ she said finally. After all, she couldn’t admit just how she felt. Like you have a hard, male body, which gives me ideas, and my discarded slippers are soft and flaccid? Which you are not. Goodness, where did that come from? Her skin felt too tight for her body, which was the strangest feeling.
‘And?’ Harry prompted. He looked for all a calm and unworried man, until she noticed the erratic pulse in his neck.
‘And yes, let’s start again and be friends once more,’ Lydia said hurriedly. ‘I would like that.’
‘Then hello, Lady Lydia, how are you?’ He bowed. ‘Let me present myself. Harry Birnham at your service.’
‘You mean it?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Or is it lip service? Because I tell you now, Harry, I am nobody’s fool, and I am now in charge of my own destiny. I intend it to stay that way.’
‘Lord, do you ever trust anyone?’ Harry shook his head, and one overlong lock fell into his eyes. He brushed it away impatiently.
He may have had a haircut, but, lord, it’s bad. Am I mad I like it so? It made him so much more normal. Less perfection, more everyday human, and approachable.
‘You may never believe it – it took me a while to accept it myself – but I do love you,’ he said slowly, as if searching for the correct words.
Love me? He loves me? Dare I ask him to prove it? ‘It’s easy to say,’ she said slowly as her mind raced. ‘But how do you know?’
‘I have no idea,’ Harry said in a voice that rang with honesty. ‘If it feels like a part of me is lost, and I will never be whole again until I am with you, and each day apart was a dark, lonely one that lasted a year, then it is love. Now I am with you, even a little bit, the sky is bluer, the sun brighter, and I could climb mountains, just to shout your name from the top. You might not love me; I can’t force you.’ He grinned. ‘But I will do my best to show you how much I love you, and hope one day you will love me back.’
She bit her l
ip. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Then it could be interesting trying to find out. So,’ he said smoothly, ‘I will change the subject for now. I spent several weeks going to and back from King’s Lynn. I never discovered how you tricked me, but Lady Caroline, when I eventually tracked her down – which, believe me, was not easy – gave me good advice. Said to show you how I feel, not tell. I honestly have no idea how to do that, but I’ll try. As soon as I can sort the other mystery out.’
‘The other one?’ Her heart sped up, missed a beat, and continued erratically. He loved her, and had been to Norfolk? Lydia’s mouth went dry and she felt light-headed. Even though she had deliberately laid a false trail, she had hardly dared to think she mattered enough to be followed. All that for her? ‘Ah…’ She remembered his first comment. ‘We hired actresses to take over on our journey while we doubled back and came here.’
‘That’s one thing explained,’ Harry said. ‘It worked perfectly. It was damned hard to find you. What with snowstorms and the like. But why did you go to so much trouble?’
‘To foil everyone and let me get settled,’ Lydia said honestly. ‘It worked. No one has been here except you.’ She sighed. ‘It seems I have blotted my copybook once too often with my parents for there has been no communication from them. I thought perhaps even a letter raging at me would have arrived.’
‘In the interests of honesty and harmony, I’ll be open and tell you that they charged me with finding you and accompanying you back to town. No…’ He held his hand up to stop her butting in. ‘I said I would make sure you were safe and let them know you are, and that is all I have done, I promise. I think your mama probably feels it is better for her to let you decide when you want to see her again.’
‘Well, of course I do,’ Lydia said indignantly. ‘She is my mama.’
‘And she knows she did not listen to you.’
‘Ah.’ That made sense. ‘One thing then. Are we still betrothed?’ It was something she had wondered about. Nothing had filtered through to her in Shaldon, but then would anyone in this part of Devon be interested in the goings-on in the ton?
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 20
