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Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five)

Page 9

by Maureen Driscoll


  After writing letters to Arthur and Lizzie letting them know he’d been delayed another day, he’d sought refuge in Lyman’s library where he found shelves filled with books that had never been cracked open. Unfortunately, they were volumes he’d either already read or had no wish to peruse. If the London papers had been delivered, they would be ones he’d already read before leaving town. It was only after consulting with Olivia – who was rather useful, despite a certain amount of impudence – that he decided his best course of action was a walk.

  He took a long one, but when his thoughts could focus on nothing but his worries about Rosalind, he returned to the house to find its occupants finally stirring. He was pressed into service as an escort to the ladies on a carriage ride. He’d elected to ride alongside them on one of Lyman’s hunters rather than be stuck inside and forced to converse. Being on horseback in the brisk air did lift his spirits to some extent. But he still wished to be elsewhere. Almost anywhere else.

  But then one of the carriage’s wheels broke and they made the detour to the village. It was small and, like other villages on the estate, in need of repair. During the ride, Liam had been taking note of the state of Lyman’s lands and structures. He’d seen examples of mild neglect all the way to uninhabitable structures with caved-in roofs. This hamlet was in better shape than the others and he suspected it was due to the residents rather than Lyman’s steward. It was in so much better shape he’d actually asked the coachman if they were still on Lyman’s property. The man said they were, but that the local farmers worked together on the upkeep.

  Not for the first time, Liam wondered whether the farmers would be better off on their own, rather than under Lyman’s neglectful stewardship.

  As soon as they arrived, a crowd had gathered to watch them. The ladies had disembarked to go to the small tavern and the local smithy, who was also the wainwright, came out to help repair the wheel. Liam was about to step in to assist when the tiresome Lady Elling came out of the tavern to speak with him. She had not been dissuaded by his words the night before and he began to wonder what it would take to convince her he was not interested. He was, therefore, relieved, when something caught her attention and she went to attend to it.

  Liam dismounted and tethered his horse to the carriage. While most of the villagers had gone back indoors to gawk from where it was warmer, a tall man approached. He walked with authority and from the deference of those around him, it was clear that this man with the reddish brown hair was some sort of leader. The smithy, Taney, was trying to remove the wheel, a process made all the more difficult by two ladies still sitting in the carriage.

  The man with red hair tried to lift the carriage.

  “One moment,” Liam told him before opening the carriage door. “Ladies, the men must change the carriage wheel.”

  “Of course they must,” said the simpering Lady Alice, an earl’s daughter. “It is broken, after all. Do come sit with us, your grace. We were just discussing Rosalind Carson’s scandalous disappearance.”

  “Lady Alice!” Liam’s tone was so severe the chit bounced in her seat. “I do not gossip. Nor do I look kindly upon those who do. The two of you shall now disembark from the carriage so these men can get on with their work.”

  The now quite frightened Lady Alice quickly removed herself from the carriage, followed by her most especial friend Miss Taylor. If either of them had thought to invite Liam into the tavern, they quickly disabused themselves of such a notion given the thunderous expression on his face.

  When Liam turned back to the men, he saw they had already set about fixing the wheel. Without a word, Liam put himself on the opposite side of the wheel from the red haired man. Both Taney and the man were surprised to see him join in the work, but the red haired man recovered first.

  “Taney, are you ready?”

  The smithy nodded, then on the count of three Liam and the red haired man lifted the carriage while Taney deftly pulled off the broken wheel.

  “It will take but half an hour to fix this,” said Taney. With a nod for both men and a quizzical glance at Liam, he left.

  “William Kellington, Duke of Lynwood,” said Liam to the other man.

  “Your grace.” He nodded his head. “I’m Gabriel Mills, a farmer on this land.”

  “And a dab hand at carriage repair,” said Liam.

  “Just a strong back and perhaps more brawn than brains,” said Gabriel with an amiable smile. “If you don’t mind me saying, I’ve never seen a toff lift a carriage before.”

  “It was decidedly easier without the weight of the ladies.”

  “It was, at that, and only a duke could have moved them.”

  The two men wiped their hands on their handkerchiefs, each appraising the other.

  “What can you tell me about the earl’s steward?” asked Liam.

  Immediately, Gabriel’s amiability vanished, replaced by a cool exterior. “We make do.”

  Liam looked around. “Obviously. Your farm lands and buildings are the best I’ve seen on the earl’s estate. But is that because of the steward’s policies or in spite of them?”

  Gabriel remained silent.

  “Mr. Mills, I am not trying to get you in trouble. The earl asked me to look at his estates and, other than what I’ve seen here, I am dismayed by the shape they are in. But for some reason, your village is different and I would like to know why.”

  For a moment, Gabriel was distracted by a movement in the near distance. He frowned as he watched something. Liam turned, but only caught a flash of clothing before it once again disappeared. It was odd, but it felt as if a shiver had gone up his spine.

  No doubt the result of the cold weather.

  Gabriel cleared his throat. “How do I know you’ve not been sent by the earl to ferret out dissent?”

  “That is a fair question. I can only give you my word that I would not do such a thing.”

  Gabriel studied him for a long moment and Liam was surprised to the extent that he wanted to be found worthy of the man’s trust. It had been a long time, if not a lifetime, since his general worthiness hadn’t been judged by his title alone. There was something to be said for having to prove oneself.

  Finally, Gabriel began speaking. “Struth, this is the first interest the earl has shown in our well-being. Most months, the only time we hear from the steward is when our rents are due or to tell us he’s raising them. I imagine Kibworth would look much like the other villages if we didn’t do for ourselves so much. As it is, the church is in need of repairs but we can’t do them ‘til spring. Things are hard, but we band together. We help each other and do what we can.”

  Liam nodded. “And what role do you play?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I’m a farmer, just like everyone else.”

  Liam suspected that wasn’t true. The man was definitely a farmer. That would explain his strength and build. But unless he missed his mark, this man was a better steward of the land than Lyman or any of his men could ever hope to be.

  “Well, Mr. Mills, I would be interested in hearing more. Perhaps I could remain…”

  “Oh, Lynwood,” said Lady Elling, as she put her arm through his. “You’ll never believe it, but the dreadful man at the tavern wants us to pay him. Why he doesn’t simply put the refreshments on Lyman’s account, I have no idea. He might even consider providing the food and drink for free, given what it will do for his standing. Why, farmers will come from miles around just to see the inn where we broke our journey. Come, pay for us, won’t you? I promise to make it up to you.”

  Liam turned to Gabriel to see the man’s cool exterior was once again in place. “It seems I have a task to attend to,” he told the man. “But mayhap we can discuss matters at a different time.”

  “Mayhap, your grace.” But he looked decidedly skeptical.

  Liam entered the tavern and paid the beleaguered owner well for his fare. When he was outside once again, he saw that the wheel had been replaced and there was no sign of Mr. Mills. The party f
rom Lyman’s estate got underway once again and Liam rode the hunter out of the village, unable to shake the odd feeling in his spine.

  He hoped he wasn’t catching the ague. He didn’t want to remain in the country any longer than he had to.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gabriel was concerned about Rose. He’d seen her only fleetingly as she’d darted out from behind the tavern and all but run to the shelter of an outbuilding. And the expression on her face had been most alarming, almost as if she’d been afraid. He’d wanted to set out to see her straight away and would have if it hadn’t been for the duke.

  He still wasn’t sure what the Duke of Lynwood was doing in their village. He’d heard of the man, of course. Most everyone in England had at least heard of him. But from what he’d read of the man, he wasn’t sure why he would be friends with someone like Lyman.

  If the news stories were to be believed, the duke had pushed for parliamentary reforms that would benefit farmers, sometimes at the expense of the lords who owned the land. He’d shaken his head when he’d read that. He didn’t think there was a toff in the empire with enough brass to stand up to his peers. But apparently Lynwood was one of them. He seemed to be the exact opposite of Lyman. Just the thought of Lyman helping them repair a wheel made him chuckle.

  But he wasn’t in a lighthearted mood. Something had spooked Rose.

  He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her as Rose. And he really shouldn’t be thinking of her as his Rose, a thought that had entered his thick skull on more than one occasion. He knew she was beyond his reach. If she really was the daughter of a servant, they were more or less in the same class, given that his grandmother had been the granddaughter of a baronet – a fact he kept hidden from his neighbors. But there was something about Rose that told him she hadn’t grown up in servants’ quarters. There was a grace and elegance to her that spoke volumes louder than the gowns that would be plain by ton standards.

  From the first, he’d suspected she was running away from something or someone. Her vague destination in Scotland had been one clue. Her complete inability to start her own fire had been another. Even if she’d never been in service, she would have had to make do for herself in a great house. Very few servants were unable to start a fire or boil water. He’d been worried about leaving her to do for herself except he’d discovered she was a quick learner. The first time she’d invited him in for scones, he’d had to force them down. She’d insisted he have two. The first was a bit raw, the second was scorched. But she glowed with pride in herself, so he didn’t have the heart to refuse her. She wasn’t at ease in the kitchen, but her sheer delight at being there was contagious. That was another way he knew something was off. No other woman he knew took such pleasure in doing chores. But for Rose, it was like sweeping the floor was a new experience. Not just new. New and bloody wonderful.

  She definitely wasn’t who she said she was.

  Then she ran away when the toffs arrived in their carriages. The other women of the village had gawked at the newcomers, but Rose had made her escape. He wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear. He would protect her, even though he knew it wasn’t his place to do so.

  But, oh, how he hoped it would be one day.

  This was all so new to him. Since his beloved Laura had died, he’d not looked at another woman. He worked as best as he could to be both father and mother to his children and they brought him a great deal of joy and comfort. But he missed having a companion. A woman to be by his side.

  Rose had been right. There were a number of women in the village and the neighboring towns who might be interested in becoming his wife. They were all good women and used to the hard work of living on a farm. His ideal mate would know the land and what was required to make a life from it. She wouldn’t mind getting up before the sun. Well, she wouldn’t mind any more than he did. She would be a mother to his children. She would be a lover and companion to him. And, if fortune smiled on them, some day they would have land of their own. Land they owned, where they wouldn’t have to live in fear of a landlord’s caprice.

  He arrived outside Rose Cottage. He didn’t want to intrude on Rose’s privacy, but if something was wrong, he wanted to fix it.

  He knocked on the door. A moment later, he heard her call softly from the upstairs window.

  “Gabriel,” she said. “What brings you here?”

  “You,” he replied softly. “I came to check on you.”

  * * *

  Olivia picked up Lady Elling’s sable muff, her matching coat and her fur-lined bonnet, which had all been thrown on the floor as soon as the lady had returned to her bedchamber. Since Lady Elling’s maid was in the laundry room crying yet again, Olivia was helping her ladyship change into a fresh gown while Lady Montpelier gossiped.

  After pausing from a tedious recitation of some debutante’s social gaffes and knowing she’d been ignored, Lady Montpelier frowned at Lady Elling. “Valencia, why do you look like the cat who has got into the cream?”

  Lady Elling smiled slyly at the other woman. “Why Darva, whatever can you mean?”

  “You’ve been in an odd mood ever since we stopped at the dreadful tavern. Do not tell me you’ve developed a taste for the local ale. Or, even worse, a local farmer.”

  Lady Montpelier laughed as if she’d just said something witty, while Olivia bit her tongue. There was nothing wrong with being a farmer and the ones she’d grown up with were far more honorable than this lot. Lady Elling had had company in her bed the night before and Olivia knew it hadn’t been the duke. After the two ladies had been turned away, apparently they’d both found willing partners.

  “Don’t be stupid, Darva. Of course it’s not a farmer, but you would never believe who I ran into outside the tavern.” It was obvious Lady Elling wanted to draw out the suspense, but since her companion looked mostly bored, she blurted out, “Rosalind Carson!”

  “Do not say so!”

  “But it was!” said Valencia, her eyes alight with malice. “I talked to the chit myself. It seems she’s been hiding herself in the village teaching the local brats. Can you imagine? She is teaching farmers’ children and rather looking like one herself.”

  Both of the women laughed at this remark as Olivia continued to put the room to rights. She didn’t know who this Rosalind Carson was, but she was probably more of a lady than the two of these witches combined.

  “What a good laugh we shall have at dinner,” said Darva.

  That sobered Valencia up immediately. “But there’s the rub. I promised the chit I would tell no one she’s there.”

  Darva snorted. “Since when do you keep promises?”

  Valencia held out her hairbrush to Olivia, who took it and began brushing out Lady Elling’s hair. “I can keep a promise as well as the next lady,” she sniffed.

  “You already broke it by telling me. The least you can do is tell Lynwood.”

  “But don’t you see, Darva? He is the one person I can never tell. If he knew the chit was in the village, he’d be over there in a nonce, dropping to one knee and proposing. What a waste for that bluestocking to be a duchess.”

  “Have your eye on the title, do you?” asked Darva shrewdly.

  “Not at all. Though I cannot see Rosalind Carson planning a ball at Lynwood House. She’d probably turn the thing into a charity event and make everyone listen to tales of teaching farmers’ children to read. Besides, her dear mama would probably strip the place of its silver. No, Lynwood deserves a duchess who is truly worthy of the position. I do not have my eye on the title, as you so crudely put it. But, I believe I would play the role better than most. Why shouldn’t he choose me? And if you keep Rosalind’s whereabouts a secret, I shall make sure you are rewarded. After all, the Duchess of Lynwood will hold more than a little sway.”

  Lady Montpelier looked like she wanted to say something more, but obviously thought better of it. After a few more moments of gossip she departed.

  Olivia put the finishing touches on Lady Elling’s
hair, then bobbed a curtsey. “Will there be anything else my lady?”

  Lady Elling looked at the maid in the mirror. And her eyes narrowed. “I know it was you who gave the Duke of Lynwood that dreadful room upstairs instead of the chamber next door.”

  Olivia didn’t bother to deny it. Lady Elling could have found that out through the process of elimination. Or she simply could have asked Olivia’s roommate Tally, who knew everything that happened in the house.

  Lady Elling continued. “Just in case you want to tell the duke what was said here this afternoon, I suggest you consider this. Should the duke learn of Rosalind Carson’s whereabouts, I’ll have you sacked without a character. Worse than that, I’ll have you arrested for stealing.”

  Olivia drew in a breath. “But I would never steal.”

  “I did not give you permission to speak. I’ll have you thrown in gaol if you say one word. And just so you don’t try to be clever, I’ll blame you if the duke finds out regardless of the circumstances. So don’t try slipping him a note or telling his coachman. If the Duke of Lynwood goes within a mile of that village, I’ll ruin your life. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. Now take my undergarments to the laundry and get out.”

  Olivia did as she was told and left the room. Then she prayed with all her might that the Duke of Lynwood was too smart to ever consider making that woman his duchess. He might be a toff, but he was a decent one. And no one deserved to be married to Lady Elling.

  * * *

  Rosalind was sitting across her small kitchen table from Gabriel, who was drinking tea from one of the two mismatched cups she’d bought from passing Romany a week earlier. He was also nibbling on a scone. He seemed to be a particular fan of them, always eating two even when Rosalind didn’t think they tasted very good.

  She’d just told him the true story of who she was and how she came to be in their village. He hadn’t yet responded, only eaten the scone as she waited nervously for his reaction.

 

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