by Darcy Burke
She folded her arms across her chest. “You see why it would be so much easier if you would just trust me?”
“What’s easy for you is bloody impossible for me. I can’t do what you’re asking.”
Weariness from the past few days of travel and from doing battle with him on this issue made her droop back against the seat. “No, you won’t. There’s a difference. I only hope someday you’ll find a way to see it.”
SEVEN
Ethan was grateful he hadn’t had to endure an interrogation from Fox last night. When he and Audrey had arrived at Bassett Manor, an ancient pile of stone that looked as if it was undergoing much-needed refurbishment, they’d both been shown immediately to their rooms. He’d enjoyed a meal and a bath in his chamber and had forced himself to fall into bed, where dreams of chocolate corkscrew curls and aqua eyes tortured him all night long.
Now, however, the stark light of a bright October morning streamed through the hall windows, and as he stepped into the breakfast room, Fox was already seated at the table.
“Good morning,” Fox said, smiling. He indicated the sideboard, which was stacked with food. “Help yourself.”
Ethan goggled at the amount and variety of items. There were ham and kippers, potatoes and turnips, eggs, bread, and cheese. It was an awful lot of food for Fox and his wife and their guests.
Fox interrupted Ethan’s cataloging of the menu. “Miranda wanted to have a proper breakfast for you. I told her it was too much.”
“Perhaps.” Regardless, Ethan was hungry and would do his best to put a dent in her array. He piled a plate high and joined Fox at the table.
Fox eyed Ethan’s plate. “Perhaps not.” He popped a bite of toast into his mouth. Then he sat back in his chair. “So, you’re not exactly eloping to Gretna Green. Pardon me, I have to ask.”
Ethan understood. It was why he’d planned what to say. He only hoped Audrey would cooperate by crying off before they went anywhere. Otherwise, he’d have to be the one to leave her, and he didn’t want anyone thinking she’d been abandoned—she deserved better than that. “No, we’re headed to Plymouth where we plan to take a ship for America.”
Fox shot forward in his chair. “The devil you say. That’s quite a departure.”
Ethan shrugged. “I’m the bastard son of a viscount. My prospects are likely better there.”
Fox settled back in his chair. “Your prospects are whatever you make them. I can see the benefit of starting in a new place, of establishing yourself. However, it’s not as if you wouldn’t be accepted here. I suspect you’d gain entry into more places as Lockwood’s bastard than I do as a legitimate nobody.”
Ethan scooped up a spoon of potatoes. “You’re not a nobody. You’re married to the Duke of Holborn’s daughter. That will gain you entry anywhere.”
“You know what I mean. Before Miranda, I wasn’t fit to clean the man’s boots.” Fox’s mouth twisted wryly. “Believe me, he told me so.”
Ethan swallowed. He understood what Fox was trying to say, and didn’t disagree with him. In fact, Ethan had counted on his ability to claim a place in Society despite his illegitimacy. He was, as Fox had pointed out, the son of a viscount. That counted for something and while it wouldn’t give him carte blanche, it would likely allow him to do just about everything he wanted.
Which was what? Attend house parties? Take tea with London’s elite? Obtain a voucher to Almack’s? He nearly choked on the bite of kippers he’d just taken. So maybe not Almack’s, the horror, but he thought he might like a house party or two. His last few days on horseback had been painful, but he’d recalled the lessons he’d taken as a lad, the promises of riding with his father, of joining him on a hunt, and he’d begun to revisit the dreams he’d thought long destroyed. Dreams that were still likely unreachable, given his problems with both Bow Street and Gin Jimmy.
“You should come with me to the orphanage today,” Fox said. “I’ll show you what we do there.”
Ethan was surprised to find he was actually tempted to stay for a few days. He told himself it was because he was tired and he wanted to rest his arm, but there was something appealing about spending a day or two with Audrey before he left. Or at least today. Since she hadn’t left her room yet this morning, there hadn’t been an opportunity to organize their plan. He might as well accompany Fox to his orphanage. “Yes, show me your orphanage.”
Fox pushed back from the table and stood. “Excellent. I’ll meet you out front when you’re finished.”
Ethan nodded and welcomed the peace of enjoying his breakfast the way he so often did: alone.
Little more than a half hour later, Fox steered his cart up the long drive to Stipple’s End, a monstrosity of a building that was equally as ancient as Bassett Manor, but less stately in its appearance. Ethan didn’t know much about architecture, but even he could recognize the house had been renovated many times over the past centuries.
He didn’t bother censoring his reaction. “How old is this place?”
Fox chuckled as he steered the cart around the building to a stable area in the back. “Six hundred years. But that’s just the original building. The various enlargements happened at different times.”
Ethan surveyed the peaks in the roof, part of which appeared to be newly repaired. “And you said it’s been in your family nearly as long as it’s been in existence?”
A boy maybe twelve years old rushed to meet them. Fox handed him the reins as he climbed down. “Thank you, Charlie.”
Ethan stepped out of the cart and joined Fox as he made his way toward the back of the house.
“We’ve run the orphanage for nigh on four hundred years, beginning when Stipple’s End came to the Foxcroft family by way of marriage,” Fox continued. “My forebears didn’t need two houses and sought to use the extra one to help the children in the district. It started as a school, actually, but gradually became an orphanage.” Fox held the back door open and gestured for Ethan to precede him into a narrow hallway.
Ethan walked inside and sniffed as a strong odor assaulted him.
Fox strode past him. “They must’ve already started painting. We’ve done a lot of improvements over the past couple of years. The roof fell into the great hall two years ago.”
Ethan followed him into a massive great hall. “That sounds expensive.”
“Quite. Luckily, I married Miranda. She inherited a property that makes an income, and I’ve been able to make improvements at Bassett Manor so that it’s now starting to earn a better income.”
“You married her for her money?” Though it was a typical occurrence, Ethan was surprised to hear Fox say so.
Fox pivoted to look at him. “Hell no. I married her because she’s Miranda. That she improved my financial state is simply a happy accident.”
Ethan felt a pang of alarm. Fox had fallen in love with her. Like Jason had fallen in love with Lydia. Christ, love was all around him. What if that happened to him—with Audrey? Falling in love had never been something he considered and now . . . there couldn’t be a worse time. If he’d needed a reason to get the hell away from Audrey, he had one now. Not that he was actually in danger of falling in love with her. He was, however, in danger of falling in lust.
“Bernard, you’re off to an early start this morning,” Fox said, moving toward the boys who were painting.
A tall lad, probably fifteen years old or so, turned. He held a round brush in his hand and had been applying whitewash to the wall. “Good morning, Fox. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get this done today, if possible.”
“Why would I mind your industriousness?” Fox clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Locke, this is Bernard, he’s been with us since he was what, four years old?”
Bernard nodded. “Nearly ten years.”
Ethan’s curiosity was piqued. “How did you come to be at Stipple’s End?”
“My father was in the navy, but he didn’t come home. My mother passed and the vicar—we lived in Swindon—sent me here.�
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Ethan knew what would’ve happened to the boy if the vicar hadn’t stepped in. He thought of all of the children in London who ended up in workhouses or on the street. He didn’t know which was worse. He knew with certainty, however, that Stipple’s End was far better than either of those alternatives.
Fox moved around to watch two younger boys who’d gone back to whitewashing. “Painting the walls in the great hall is the final step in the long renovation. Miranda wanted to hang wallpaper, but I convinced her that whitewash was the smarter choice in a facility full of children. You’re doing a fine job, boys.”
One of them, an apple-cheeked lad who couldn’t be more than nine or ten and whose hands were covered in whitewash, flashed him a grin.
Fox nodded toward Ethan. “Come, I’ll show you the library, the only room I’ve allowed Miranda to decorate.”
Ethan trailed him along a corridor past a grand staircase. He couldn’t stop thinking of the boys and the incredible opportunity they’d been given in coming here. “What happens to the children when they leave here?”
Fox took a right through a doorway. He turned back to look at Ethan. “Bernard has taken quite an interest in the refurbishment. We had an architectural firm from London here and Bernard was fascinated. I’m going to send him to school in a couple of years—he’s only thirteen though he looks older, I know—and then he’s going to apprentice with them.”
Ethan nearly stumbled over the edge of the carpet as he moved into the library. That an orphan would be able to make so much of his life was astounding. “This is a remarkable place, Fox.” While he was impressed and amazed, he doubted the orphanage would’ve taken him. At fourteen, Ethan had been too old for anything but a workhouse. “Do you have an age limit for those you take in?”
Fox tipped his head right, then left. “Somewhat. It’s more of a judgment call. I can tell if someone is too set in their ways to benefit from what we do. We teach them rudimentary skills such as how to speak and eat properly, how to conduct themselves in different situations. It seems like they ought to know such things, but you’d be surprised at what we take for granted in our station.”
If only Fox knew the “station” Ethan had been living in, that he knew all too well how different things were for the lower classes. He’d not only been taunted for his good looks, he’d been ridiculed because of his upper-class way of speaking and his manners. He’d worked hard to dirty his language and comport himself in a less formal fashion before he’d established himself.
Ethan glanced around the huge room lined with bookshelves. “The orphans have access to all of this?”
“Yes, I transferred all of the books from Bassett Manor here after my father died. It made more sense to have them accessible for the children. I just borrow the books I want and return them when I’m finished.”
His own private lending library. Books were one of the things Ethan had missed most since his father’s death. Ethan possessed a passion for reading, but when his mother had sold the house Lockwood had purchased for her, she’d also sold the books. Ethan read when he could, but the life of a master criminal hadn’t allowed him such luxury. That’s one thing he would do when he regained his life as Ethan Lockwood: He’d have his own goddamned library.
He strolled to the bookshelf and ran his finger along the spines. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch the whiff of parchment and ink, of knowledge and joy. “How did you manage all of this? You inferred that before you married Miranda, you were in financial difficulty. Yet, you managed to keep two estates running and support,” he turned to look at Fox, “how many children?”
“It varies, but we currently house forty-nine. We’ve been able to take in more since I married Miranda. She insisted.”
“She now shares your dedication?”
“Vociferously. Hell’s teeth, you should’ve seen her when she was first forced to work here as penance for her scandalous behavior.” Fox’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “She was completely out of her element. Still, she bewitched me from the start.”
Ethan turned back to the books, picked up a thick volume, and flipped through the pages, relishing the weight of the tome in his palm. He glanced up at Fox. “This is your whole life then? The orphanage?” A noble enterprise.
“And our own family. You haven’t yet met Alexander—our son. He’s only a year old.” Fox gave his head a shake. “He already has everyone wrapped around his finger, just like his mother. He’ll be here later this morning, I imagine.”
Ethan looked up again, once again surprised. “He spends time here with the orphans?”
Fox’s answering stare was cool. “Yes. I grew up with the orphans, and I consider myself the better for it.”
Ethan snapped the book shut. “I meant no offense. I was merely startled to hear that you would allow your son to mingle with them. Most gentlemen would not.”
Fox inclined his head and seemed to relax slightly. “I’m not most gentlemen. I’m barely a gentleman at all. Remember, I’m just Montgomery Foxcroft, farmer and orphanage owner. Who happened to marry the daughter of a duke.”
A vision of Ethan in such a life flashed before him. Could he settle into a situation where he was a country gentleman with a wife and retainers, people who depended upon him? He had underlings who worked for him, but it wasn’t the same. On several occasions, they’d turned against him or simply left his employ for a better offer. There was a degree of loyalty, but money and the promise of power always won out. Ethan imagined it was different in Fox’s experience. “You’ve built quite a life for yourself here. It’s enviable.”
“You hope to do the same in America?” Fox turned toward him and leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf. “Forgive me, but I’m curious as to why you would elope in the first place. Did her parents refuse your suit because of your parentage?” Fox’s lip curled in distaste.
Ethan appreciated the other man’s compassion, but he wasn’t going to divulge any information he didn’t have to. “Audrey and I prefer to start our life somewhere new. She’s long wanted to go to America.” That part, at least, was true. Surprisingly so. Ethan could still scarcely believe she’d tried to run off with a blacksmith’s son. She was either terribly adventurous or exceedingly foolhardy. Ethan recognized those qualities in himself. They were why he’d become a successful criminal—one had to possess a bit of both if one wanted to reap the greatest rewards.
Fox was quiet a moment, perhaps trying to decide whether he would press Ethan for a better answer. Ethan gave him an unwavering stare, daring him to question him further.
With a subtle nod, Fox pushed away from the bookshelf. “If you want to confide in me about anything, I promise you the utmost discretion. America is an awfully long way to go, but I suppose the opportunities there are incomparable—for the right people. I hope you and Miss Cheswick are the right people.” He straightened. “Come, there’s more to see, if you’re interested. You can take the book if you want.”
He did. “Thank you.” Ethan tucked the book under his arm and accompanied Fox from the library. Fox’s words bounced around his brain—America was an awfully long way to go. Could he and Audrey start over somewhere closer? Somewhere that would allow him to at least see his brother from time to time?
Alarms pealed in his brain. What the hell was he doing planning anything with Audrey in mind? It was all a lie, a fabrication they’d told the Foxcrofts to explain their being here. They had no future, no relationship, no reason to be together. The sooner he got away from her, the better. For everyone.
EIGHT
Audrey wasn’t an early riser by any account, but she’d slept rather late that morning. The fresh clothes the maid had left were of the construction that allowed Audrey to dress herself. A boon, because she was eager to see Ethan as soon as possible. Though she hurried through her toilet, dealing with her hair without assistance was a particular chore. When she finally decided she was presentable, she made her way—achingly thanks to several days in the saddle—downs
tairs. Her haste had been for naught however, when she found the breakfast room empty save for Miranda sitting on the floor with her young son.
Miranda smiled up at her. “Good morning, I trust you slept well.”
Panic rooted in Audrey’s gut and made her feel shaky. She didn’t want to make small talk. “Yes, thank you. Has Mr. Locke come down yet?” She practically held her breath waiting for the answer. He wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye . . .
“He and Fox are at Stipple’s End. If you’d like, we can go for a visit. Just let me take Alexander up to the nurse for his nap.”
Audrey recalled that Stipple’s End was the orphanage they operated. If Ethan was there, Audrey definitely wanted to go. “That would be lovely. I’ll have a quick breakfast.”
Miranda scooped her son into her arms and brought him to Audrey. “Say hello to Miss Cheswick, Alex.”
He held his hand out toward her, his fingers splayed. “Ba!”
Audrey couldn’t help but grin at him in return. “Ba!”
His lips spread to reveal two teeth peeking from the bottom of his mouth. “Ba!”
Audrey moved her head forward so he could touch her cheek. Instead, he grabbed at her hair and pulled a curl free. “Ba!”
Miranda laughed. “We could play this game all day, but you probably want to eat and Alex needs to sleep. Help yourself to the sideboard and ring the bellpull if you need anything—one of the footmen or maids will attend you.”
Audrey nodded as they left and went to serve herself. Her mind immediately returned to Ethan and what they were going to do next.
They.
They weren’t going to do anything. He was going to leave her here and she was going to what, return to London? She had to convince him to take her with him. At the very least, she wasn’t ready for her adventure to end. At the very most, she’d persuade him to trust her and she’d find a way to help him with his Bow Street problem.
