by Kelly Bowen
“Good afternoon,” Rose said. “Are you Mildred and Margret?”
The eyes widened. There was a flurry of whispers, and then one of the girls stepped out from behind the cottage. “How do you know our names?”
“Your brother told us,” Rose answered.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
She couldn’t be more than eight or nine, Eli thought, though her voice held a cynical wariness that belied her years. Her face was painfully thin but clean, her dark hair pulled neatly back from her face in a long braid. Her dress was too short, and there were patches upon the patches, but she stood straight and tall like a princess commanding her court.
Eli hung back, letting Rose take the lead. Since Mrs. Soames had yet to make an appearance, Eli assumed that only the two girls were home. And from experience Eli knew it was far more likely that the girls would speak to a beautiful woman who looked like a fairy princess than to a man who looked like the troll from the same story.
“My name is Rose. And this is my friend Eli.”
Two sets of eyes narrowed in suspicion as they swung toward him. So much for remaining unobtrusive.
“Are you a soldier?” the girl asked.
“No.”
“Did you get in a fight?”
“What?” Eli frowned.
“Bruno got in a fight and lost his eye. Is that how you lost yours?”
It took Eli a moment to realize that Bruno was the dog. “Sort of,” Eli said slowly. “It happened in the war.”
“So you are a soldier.”
“Not anymore.”
“Is that your carriage?”
“Yes.”
“Are you rich?”
He frowned at the rapid questions. “Yes,” he answered anyway.
“Where’s the cake?” The twin who hadn’t said anything yet spoke up.
“In the carriage,” Rose told her. “I can fetch it for you if you like while we wait.”
“Wait for what?” Eli and Rose both spun to find a narrow woman with the same chestnut hair and brown eyes as her daughters standing behind them.
“Mrs. Soames?”
“Yes.” She took a half step back at the sight of Eli’s face, but her gaze didn’t falter.
“I’m here about your son, Charlie,” Eli said.
“Girls, get in the house and wait for me there,” she ordered without looking at them.
The twins reluctantly did as they were told, though they dragged their feet, still staring at Eli and Rose. Mrs. Soames waited until the door banged shut behind them before she spoke. “Is he dead?” Her face was chalk white, her expression hard, her body rigid as if she were braced for the worst. “Charlie.”
“No, no,” Eli rushed to assure her. “He’s not dead. He’s fine. On the mend.”
Mrs. Soames closed her eyes briefly in relief before she opened them again and regarded him warily. “Who are you?” she demanded in much the same way her daughter had.
“Eli Dawes, Earl of Rivers, ma’am. And this is Miss Rose Hayward.”
She looked between them, her forehead creased. “The old Earl of Rivers is dead. Everyone around here knows that.”
“The man you speak of was my father. I’ve just recently returned to England.”
She stared hard at him, as if weighing the validity of his words. “My son is under your roof, then.”
“He is. I wish to speak to you about him—”
“Are you here to collect money, then?”
“What?”
“I don’t have anything to pay the doctors with.” Her face was pinched.
“No, I didn’t come here for money,” Eli said, frowning. “I came to ask if there was anything I could do to help you. Or if you wanted to see him.”
She blinked rapidly at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I can take you to see your son if you like. It is my understanding that the doctors who treated him do not want him moved until he heals somewhat. He will be my guest until he is well enough to travel.”
“Why would you do that for Charlie? For me?”
Eli’s frown deepened. “Your husband and your sons, I am told, were killed at Quatre Bras. I was there too. Think of it as one soldier looking out for the family of another.”
“The country my husband and my boys died for sees no need to do so, so forgive me if I have a hard time believing an earl would.” Mrs. Soames’s brows rose, and her eyes flickered over Eli’s plain but expensive clothes and then the carriage that still waited behind them.
“Mrs. Soames, I can assure you that I only wish to help.”
“Help? No one wants to help, my lord.” The statement was bitter. “Look around you. Do you think I wanted to raise my children like this? Do you think it’s easy putting them to bed hungry every night?”
“Mrs. Soames—”
“We had a tenancy, you know. A house, a farm. Until my husband and boys didn’t come back from the war and I couldn’t pay the rents any longer. So now the girls and I mend nets and sailcloth for whatever the fishermen can spare. And Charlie steals what they can’t.” Her shoulders suddenly slumped. “I’m afraid he’ll get himself killed. And I can’t lose him too.”
“Tell him that yourself,” Eli said, at a loss for what he could do or say at this moment that would make anything better for this family. “Come with us. Stay for dinner. Stay as long as you wish.”
Mrs. Soames eyed him with renewed distrust and defiance. “I’ll not be paying you anything from my back.”
Jesus. Eli shifted uncomfortably.
Rose put a hand on his arm. “Mrs. Soames, it was my brother who treated Charlie,” she said gently.
“You’re Dr. Hayward’s sister?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“Everyone around here knows the doctor,” Mrs. Soames said. “He sees to everyone, no matter that they have nothing. He’s a very kind man.”
Rose smiled. “He is,” she agreed.
“Can we go, Mother?” a small voice asked from behind them. “I want to see Charlie. And they said they have cake.”
Eli turned to find Mildred, or possibly Margret, standing, the small one-eyed mutt in her arms.
“I told you to stay inside,” her mother snapped.
“I was worried for Charlie.” The girl’s chin jutted defiantly, and the dog squirmed.
“I—”
The sound of pounding hooves interrupted whatever she was going to say next, and Eli saw a familiar blond man in a faded artillery jacket galloping across the sloped fields down toward the cottage. He reined his blowing horse to a stop, looking between Eli and Mrs. Soames, apprehension and suspicion written across his face.
“What are you doing here, Lord Rivers?” Matthew Wright blurted.
“I came to offer any assistance I could to Mrs. Soames, given her son is recuperating in my attics. Is there a problem?”
The suspicion faded, though the apprehension did not. “Buhler and his men are on their way here.” His horse danced sideways. “Heard say the captain is in a rage. Seems he was at Avondale earlier.” Wright was staring hard at Eli.
“He was,” Eli confirmed. “I may have failed to offer the captain tea. Or any sort of welcome, at that. Most certainly no information on where he might find young Charlie Soames.”
Mrs. Soames made a noise of distress. “My lord, I didn’t know. I didn’t intend to cause you trouble—”
“It was no trouble.” Eli cut her off.
“Let me take you and the girls away from here,” Wright urged the woman. “I don’t want you anywhere near here when Buhler shows up if he’s looking to make an example. I don’t know what he might do if he thinks you’re hiding…something. Someone.”
“Mother? Is Charlie in trouble?” The little girl’s voice was thin. “Are we in trouble?”
“Get in my carriage,” Eli ordered. “All of you.”
Wright shook his head. “Lord Rivers—”
“Your horse cannot carry four. Not easily, anyway. My c
arriage, on the other hand, is large and enclosed. And not likely to be shot at.”
“Let us take you and your daughters to Avondale,” Rose said to Mrs. Soames. “At least for now. You can see Charlie, and we’ll bring you back here later.”
“Please.” Wright managed to get his horse to still. “Go with them. Just for now. Just in case.”
The woman looked between her daughters and Mr. Wright and then to Eli. “I don’t want to cause any further inconvenience to you—”
“Good. Then get in the carriage.” Eli nodded to his driver, who hurried to open the equipage door.
“Mother? What if the soldiers—”
“Get your sister, Margret.” Mrs. Soames was pushing her daughter toward the cottage. “Quickly. We will do as Miss Hayward asks, but we will return here immediately afterward.”
“Can Bruno come too?” Margret asked.
“No,” her mother replied.
“Yes,” said Eli at the same time.
“Hurry,” Wright pleaded.
Margret ran into the house, only to appear seconds later with Mildred. Both girls and the dog clambered into the carriage. Their mother followed, Rose ordering the driver back up to his post and assisting her in.
“Thank you, Lord Rivers,” Wright said, worry creasing his sun-darkened face.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s everything.” He fought with his horse for a second. “The captain and his men have become ruthless of late. I don’t think I have to explain what happens when unchecked soldiers descend on unprotected women.”
“You don’t.” Eli had seen firsthand the horror that victors could inflict on the conquered. “They’re lucky to have you looking out for them.”
Wright wrenched his horse’s head around. “I’m not enough,” he said, his anguish obvious. “And I don’t know how to fix that.”
Eli didn’t have an answer either. “Go,” he said instead, repeating Strathmore’s words. “Before you are found here by people with questions I don’t imagine you wish to answer.” He headed toward his carriage. “I believe I’ll do the same.”
Chapter 12
You’re a hard man to find.”
The Earl of Rivers started in his chair, nearly upsetting the glass of whiskey by his elbow. “Dammit, Rose.” He steadied the glass and peered up at her. “How long have you been spying on me?”
“Again, Dawes, spying implies concealment. I hate to state the obvious, but my coloring prevents me from blending in with anything except, perhaps, a collection of copper cookware.”
“Very funny.” The deep groove between Eli’s brows relaxed fractionally. He’d worn the same distracted expression on the ride back to Avondale from the pitiful cottage. Rose had watched him circumspectly as he’d readily and patiently answered Margret and Mildred’s exhaustive string of questions, waving off Mrs. Soames’s warnings to the girls to hold their tongues. And he had seemed perfectly content to have a dusty one-eyed dog curl up on the toes of his boots and promptly fall asleep.
But his troubled look hadn’t abated even when they had arrived and his aunts had descended on the Soames family in a flurry of kind and welcoming efficiency. Eli had ordered a maid to take Mrs. Soames to her son and left instructions with the remainder of Avondale’s staff that the Soames family were to be treated as valued guests. Discreet valued guests.
And then he’d disappeared.
Rose had finally found him here hours later, holed up in the rarely used study, hunched over a set of ledgers and stack of papers on the desk and frowning fiercely.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to find a solution to the problem that is the Soames family.” Eli rubbed wearily at his eye. “Bringing them here for a night or two is all well and good, but it doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t help them once they leave.”
Rose stilled. When she had sought him out, she had been planning to broach this exact subject. An idea had been brewing in her mind all afternoon. One that required a trip into Dover, something that she was less than thrilled about. But it needed to be done, and she had hoped that the earl would be receptive to what she would ask of him. And the fact that he had already charged headlong into the thorny issue made her want to reach out and kiss him.
Not that she would. There would never be a repeat of what had happened in the drawing room.
Rose slid off the edge of the desk and put a little more distance between them. “What do you mean?” she asked as evenly as she could.
“I want to be able to do more. I want to make a difference for families like the Soameses, not just today or tomorrow but ten years from now. Twenty years from now.” He gestured at the ledgers. “I could offer Mrs. Soames money, but assuming she’d even accept it, it’s a temporary fix. I could create a job at Avondale for her in some capacity, which offers a more permanent solution but doesn’t necessarily provide a future for Charlie or the girls. Charlie Soames should be in school, not spending his time…acquiring things to help keep his family from starving. Margret and Mildred too. Neither one of the girls can read or write, and Charlie has only the most rudimentary of skills.”
Rose already knew this from Tabby and Theo. “Your aunts told you?”
“Yes.” His hand fell against his thigh. “And I know that there must be thousands of families like this. Families of soldiers who have been killed in service who are struggling just to survive. I want to do something.”
“Noble.”
“Necessary,” he corrected grimly. “Do you have any idea what those men did? Do you have any idea what they saw? What they endured? And in the end, they sacrificed everything. If a country can’t take care of its own people, can’t build on those sacrifices, what have we really accomplished?”
“What do you intend to do?” Rose asked, something squeezing deep in her chest.
“That’s just it. I don’t know. Yet. I’ve been struggling with it all afternoon. And I’ve not been able to come up with anything worthwhile.” Abruptly he shoved his chair back and stood, pacing away from her until he stopped near a set of shelves filled with ledgers. “Before I left London, nobody ever wanted or expected anything from me other than a good time. And it was easy to meet those pitiable expectations. I could rely solely on my looks. Money and charm, when circumstance required. It was all so…inconsequential.”
It was Rose’s turn to frown. “You may be selling yourself a bit short, Dawes, don’t you think?”
“That’s just it. I’m not. Six years ago, I defied my father and went to war because three of my friends chose to do so, and I didn’t want to be the only one missing out on the glory and grand adventure.” He made a disgusted noise. “My ignorance and naivety were stupefying.”
Rose listened, hearing all the unhappiness and regret in that admission.
“And now that I know better, now that I’ve seen and done things that…” He trailed off and ran a finger over the spines of the ledgers. “Now I find myself back in this life, faced with something of real consequence, something that has no solution that can be charmed or bought, and I’m at a damned loss.”
Rose clasped her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. “Invite me out to dinner.”
The earl gave her a look of disbelief laced with annoyance. “I beg your pardon?”
“Invite me out to dinner. With all that charm you speak of.”
He was still staring at her with incredulity. “Dinner?”
“Why, I never thought you’d ask. You need to work on the charm, but I’d love to, thank you, Dawes.” Rose skirted the wide desk and settled herself on the edge closest to him. “How soon can you be ready?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something and closed it again. “Just where is it that you think we’re going?” he asked finally.
“Dover. A place called the Silver Swan. There are public rooms with excellent ale, an inn, and a formal dining room with a French chef and French wine. The lamb served with mint sauce is famous.”
She saw him start to shake his head.
“It would be ill-mannered to back out of an invitation promised to a lady now.”
“I never asked you to go anywhere with me.” He strode back to the desk and reached past her for his whiskey, then took a long swallow.
“You asked me to dinner. I accepted.”
“I didn’t—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not going into town.”
“Why?”
“Because there is no need to go into town for dinner when there is a perfectly good cook who serves perfectly good food on perfectly good plates here.”
Rose rather agreed with him. But these were extraordinary circumstances that required extraordinary measures. “Dawes—”
“And whatever the Silver Swan serves will likely kill you. I’ve been there before, years ago. And it’s ghastly.”
“Things have changed.”
He was still shaking his head. “Not likely. We used to call it the Revolting Raven, what with the rotting sign that hung over the door. Even the cheap gin couldn’t make it better.”
“You’ll be happy to know that the sign has changed and so has the owner.”
“This is ridiculous. I don’t need dinner. I need a solution to this dilemma.”
“They’re one and the same, Dawes.”
“I’m not in the mood for another riddle.”
“It’s not a riddle. It’s an answer, or at the very least an idea, and one that lies not in a pile of ledgers here but at the Silver Swan.”
Eli finished his whiskey and set the crystal tumbler back on the desk with an irritated thump. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
“It would be better if I showed you.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“You’ll make time for this, Dawes. Trust me.”
The earl threw up his hands. “Is this you trying to prove a point? Or trying to make me prove something to you again? First it’s a portrait, now it’s dinner? What’s next?”
Rose considered him coolly. “Why were you never afraid of my mind? Why did my education never offend you?”
“What sort of question is that? And what does that have to do with—”
