A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  ‘Ahem.’

  Her golden head whipped around at his cough and she smiled at him around a mouth full of pins. A slight blush touched the apples of her cheeks in a most becoming fashion and he wondered, rather uncharitably, if it was genuine or another beguiling feminine tool she could summon at her will.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ Jack stood stiffly at the doorway, unsure of whether or not he should enter. It was his room, after all, but while she had laid siege to it, it felt wrong to just barge in. There was already the air of the feminine about it. She had made the bed differently. The pillows were plumped and stood on their sides; the bedcovers draped in an aesthetically pleasing fashion.

  He watched her carefully pop the pins back into his mother’s old pincushion and then sit up on her heels. ‘Talk away. I am all ears.’ She wasn’t. She was all hair and legs and curvy bits, but that was not what he needed to discuss. The bed suddenly loomed larger in the room.

  ‘I am afraid your Mr Layton has upped the reward for your safe return.’ Jack saw a flash of panic cross her face and realised with dismay that she had immediately assumed he had surrendered her for the larger amount of money. As if he were a low, immoral creature who would do such a thing! ‘I do not need Mr Layton’s five hundred pounds, Letty.’ The numerous, urgent things he could do with five hundred pounds did not bear thinking about. ‘I prefer to earn my money through honest labours. Thank you for your lowly opinion of me, though.’ He ignored the fact that his father would have pocketed the money without a moment’s hesitation. As would all of his other dead ancestors. A Warriner with morals was a new, and decidedly outrageous, anomaly which the world was clearly still not ready for, despite almost a decade of him trying to change the past, yet still he was mortally insulted.

  ‘I did not think you would hand me over to him, if that is what you are insinuating, I was just thinking how much more attractive a prospect finding me has suddenly become to all and sundry. I think it is you who has a lowly opinion of me, Jack, if you believe I would think such a thing about you after all you have done for me, although I am not sure quite what I have done to deserve it.’

  He could see now that he had really upset her. Her green eyes became greener when she was troubled, her golden eyebrows were drawn together and she frowned. Now it was Jack’s turn to feel bad for his uncharitable assumptions. Letty had no idea of their wild Warriner reputation and he could hardly admit to a rampant case of lust as the cause of his disgruntlement. ‘I’m sorry, Letty. The implication was uncalled for. We Warriners are considered the scourge of the earth, thanks entirely to my forebears. Unfortunately mud sticks and we are doomed to be tarnished by it for ever. It makes me defensive—although in this case unfairly.’

  She dazzled him with a smile then. A proper smile that made her fine eyes sparkle and transformed her face from a thing of beauty into some sort of transcendental manifestation of total perfection which rendered him momentarily stunned. ‘Then I shall forgive you, Jack. Perhaps we should start this conversation again?’

  Or perhaps he should just give in to temptation and run over there and kiss her. When he found his voice it came out a little strained. ‘In view of the increased incentive, I believe it would be prudent to expect visitors to come here searching for you. I have told my brothers to re-open the gates, Letty, but do not panic, during the night they will be secured again. Those ridiculous fortifications will only serve to arouse suspicion during daylight hours if they are closed. If anybody arrives, I shall have to appear willing to co-operate. I will invite them in and listen to whatever they have to say—and, however long that takes, you will have to remain hidden up here.’ The lovely smile had slipped.

  ‘I have to stay in this room.’ Whilst she was grateful for his protection, Letty would go quite mad confined in this one place for hours on end with nobody to talk to.

  ‘No, of course not. Only if and when we have visitors. The four of us will take it in turns to work near the top of the lane. That road is the only way in and out of Markham Manor. If we spot anyone, the man on watch can alert the rest of us to an impending visit and you can slip up here.’ He stared at her seriously. ‘Just in case anyone should force their way up these stairs, I need to show you something.’

  He motioned for her to follow him and, intrigued, she did. He led her down the landing a little way to a painting on the wall. The portrait was undoubtedly a Warriner. Almost jet-black hair, handsome features and striking blue eyes stared back at her. ‘This is Sir Hugo Warriner. A troublesome fellow by all accounts—but then most of my ancestors were. He had the enormous wall built around the house when he decided to help Mary Queen of Scots plot against Queen Elizabeth. Fortunately, his involvement in high treason was never discovered, or else I would not be here. Old Hugo was a cautious fellow—he also installed this.’

  Letty watched fascinated as he opened a secret door in the oak panelling and then peered inside. ‘A priest hole?’

  ‘More of a Hugo hole really.’ Jack grinned rakishly like his troublesome ancestor, showing a row of perfectly white straight teeth, and somehow being roguish suited him. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the young man who lurked beneath the serious exterior, the one he hid from her and perhaps the rest of the world, too.

  Of course, it helped that when Jack Warriner smiled he became even more handsome, if such a thing was indeed possible, and the way his deep blue eyes sparkled make her feel all fizzy inside, like champagne. ‘I doubt he would have been charitable enough to consider hiding a worthy fugitive. I believe this little room has hidden a great many Warriners in its time. My ancestors have always had a canny knack of being on the wrong side of everything. They fought with King Charles during the Civil War, supported the Jacobite uprising—there is even a suggestion that one of them was a member of the gang who tried to blow up Parliament with Guy Fawkes—but again, he was never caught. In fact, history is peppered with infamous, and decidedly slippery, Warriners. I am yet to find any evidence of a good one...but I live in hope.’

  Letty laughed then, as she was sure she was meant to. ‘Well, you and your brothers are good men, so I can only assume the family has changed its errant ways. Your father would be proud to know that he did such a good job with you all.’

  His face clouded briefly. ‘I doubt it...however, I digress. Should you feel threatened in any way, Letty, or hear someone coming whom you do not recognise, I want you to come here. It locks from the inside. Do not open it unless either myself or one of my brothers comes to tell you the coast is clear.’ He promptly closed the panelling again and stood stiffly beside her as he stared at Sir Hugo’s picture rather than at her. ‘I will keep you safe, Letty.’

  ‘Thank you, Jack.’ After everything he had already done for her, plain old words were a poor expression of her gratitude. All at once, she felt emotional at his continued kindness. It was on the tip of her tongue to say I am in your debt and will repay you as soon as I am able, but stopped herself. The last time she had offered him a reward he had reacted badly and, as they had declared a truce, of sorts, bringing up the subject of money would probably bring stern Jack back. Letty rather liked the slightly shy Jack. Without thinking, she laid her hand on his forearm and watched his blue eyes fall on the place where it rested. ‘I shall sleep easier now.’

  Their oddly intimate moment came to an abrupt end when he simply nodded and stalked off in the direction of the stairs.

  Chapter Eight

  Twenty-five days remaining...

  When Letty woke she decided she was all done being treated like an invalid. Today, she would breakfast with the family, whether they liked it or not, and explore the house. Aside from her one trip downstairs when her head was still spinning and her eyes practically crossed, she had no idea what the rest of Markham Manor was like. As nobody had yet come to attend to her because it was still dark outside, she washed in the ice-cold water on the nightstand, b
efore pulling on the breeches and a fresh shirt and tying back her unruly hair in the scarlet ribbon. Barefoot, because she had no idea what had become of her evening slippers, she padded out of the bedchamber and headed down the creaking, wooden staircase.

  The sun had not risen properly, yet the servants had lit no candles to illuminate the dim hallway. However, it was plain to see that the standard of cleanliness was not quite what it should be. It wasn’t filthy, nor was it overly messy, but there was an air of neglect which Letty supposed came with a house full of men who did not have the exacting household standards a woman did. The mistress of a house would ensure the corners and nooks would be properly dusted and the house properly maintained.

  As she wandered slowly along the hallway, her critical gaze saw plenty of evidence of the servants’ slackness. The wooden panelling looked to be in dire need of a good coat of fresh beeswax to bring out its lustre, the rugs needed beating, the floors polishing properly and the beautiful leadlight windows would positively gleam with a treatment of vinegar. So far this morning, she had not encountered one of the lazy staff, which was a shocking disgrace. At her house in Mayfair, she ran a tight ship. Her servants were busy from six o’clock, ensuring everything was properly done so the correct standards were maintained. The servants here were practically fleecing the Warriners!

  If she could do nothing else in the short term to repay the brothers for their benevolence, she could take the servants in hand and make this house shine. It might make them like her. And when her fortune was hers to control she would buy new furniture to replace the old and purchase each of the brothers a special gift...

  She paused and sighed. There it was again, her pathetic need to get people to see her worth. Her true worth rather than the value of her fortune, yet she was using her fortune to try to buy their favour. She really needed to stop doing that. If she truly wanted to be liked for herself, then perhaps it was time she stopped feeling the urge to buy their affections. For the next few weeks, Letty was basically a pauper who was doomed to accept the Warriners’ charity. What better opportunity to find out if she possessed the characteristics of a woman who was liked purely for herself?

  Joe and Jacob already liked her, or at least she thought they did. She had no idea what Jamie thought of her and was not entirely sure she particularly cared—but she wanted Jack to like her. She really wanted Jack to like her...at least then she would not feel quite so awkward about liking him as much as she did, even though she got precious little back except for commands or put-upon stares. Although, as he had been her own personal knight in shining armour, she supposed it was only natural that she would like him far more than his equally handsome brothers. Most of the time, she got the distinct impression she irritated him. If she could do something useful to repay him for saving her, Letty would definitely feel better about the whole thing. Especially as he vehemently refused to take her money.

  Markham Manor was actually quite a charming old building which certainly did not deserve to look quite so dingy and neglected. The ceilings downstairs were high and vaulted, while the aged oak panelling gave the whole manor an air of gravitas Letty found pleasing. With a good clean, about a hundred candles, some fresh flowers and a few homely, feminine touches, it would be a delight.

  Letty pushed open one of the many closed doors off the long passageway and was surprised to find the room beyond draped in dust covers. Behind the next two doors it was exactly the same, which was odd. Why would so much of the house be closed up when the four brothers were in residence? The fourth door led to a formal dining room dominated by a long banqueting table, but no sign of breakfast. The dull layer of dust on the mahogany suggested this room has not seen a family meal in some considerable time. Yet another mark against the staff. Meals should always be served in the proper setting. It was uncivilised to do otherwise. In her mind’s eye she had already pictured a large formal dining room in her foundling home; cheerful, happy conversation over a plate of good food. If such things were good enough for foundlings, Jack and his brothers should insist on such things as their due. Shaking her head, she closed the door and continued onwards. Finally, she found herself at a pair of large, arched doors which opened on to the impressive great hall she had glimpsed on her one trip downstairs. A roaring fire burned in the biggest stone fireplace Letty had ever seen, casting the room in a warm, cosy glow. She could have easily stood in the grate with all four Warriner brothers and there still would be space for another person.

  This room looked to be in full use despite the fact it was currently vacant and the welcome heat drew her in. Evidence of the four men who lived here was everywhere and made it easy to determine exactly who sat where. Next to the big, comfortable chair closest to her was a neat pile of books topped with a folded pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. A weighty tome lay face down on the chair: On the Fabric of the Human Body by Andreas Vesalius. That meant this was Joe’s seat. Across from that she recognised several London newspapers strewn about the floor in front of a brocade sofa. As she already knew Jacob had a penchant for society gossip, he had to sit there.

  Closer to the fire sat another chair twinned with an enormous footstool. On the side table were some medicinal bottles, clearly pain relief for the dour Jamie, although the easel and paints nearby surprised her. She wandered over and was taken aback at his current work in progress. For a withdrawn man with a military past, she did not expect to see a beautiful watercolour picture of a garden filled with fat, blooming roses. Obviously, Jamie hid a poetic heart to choose such a romantic tableau. Intriguing.

  Finally, opposite Jamie’s chair was the sturdiest but shabbiest-looking chair of the lot. Jack’s seat. The ancient upholstery bore the indents where his big body rested to such an extent she could instantly picture him there, sat leaning slightly to one side if the over-worn left arm was any indicator, although Letty doubted he spent much time relaxing. Piled next to the chair were ledgers, books on animal husbandry, arable crops and a dull-looking pamphlet entitled The Manner and Proper Drainage of Clay Soils. The sight of so much work occupying what should have been his leisure time troubled her. The proverb ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ immediately sprang to mind. It probably explained a great deal about his character and the burdens he carried. Despite his patriarchal bearing, Letty estimated Jack to be well shy of thirty. This manor, an estate and the responsibility of his brothers was a considerable load for such a young man to take on his shoulders. Yet he carried it effortlessly, just as he had carried her effortlessly up the stairs in his strong, comforting arms.

  She allowed her fingers to trail lightly over the back of his chair and spotted another book tucked down between the arm and the seat. Curious, she plucked it from its hiding place. She instantly recognised it. The Soldier’s Daughter was one of her favourite plays, although it had not been on the London stage for a few years now, but she had fond memories of seeing it as it was the first production she had been taken to see by her parents upon her come-out. It had been responsible for her life-long passion for the theatre. Jack had good taste in plays, as well as a sense of humour about his ancestors. Two things she liked about him. Three, if you included his arms.

  Letty’s stomach rumble reminded her she had come down here in search of breakfast first, so she carefully slipped the slim book back into its hiding place, feeling a new affinity with Jack Warriner. They had something in common, albeit a very small thing in the grand scheme of things. Why such a thing mattered, she could not say, aside from the possibility that the pair of them could converse on topics which did not always have to be about her current predicament. It would be nice to get to know him better—the real man she had glimpsed a few days ago rather than the overbearing master of the house—the man who grinned rakishly and yet took his responsibilities seriously. Letty was rather drawn to that version of Jack.

  Back in the hallway she heard the distinctive sound of hearty male laughter and followed it to
the kitchen. All four of them were there, sitting around a big oak table, sharing the noisy, boisterous sort of family camaraderie Letty had never known, even when her quiet parents had been alive. While the brothers were blissfully unaware of her presence, she simply stood and listened, enjoying the way they parried insults and quips to and fro. It did not take long to get the gist of the conversation—Jacob had made yet another conquest. A farmer’s daughter. The brothers were joking about the possibility of her father coming after him with his pitchfork if word ever got out. The youngest Warriner apparently took all of the ribbing in his stride and looked inordinately proud of his achievements with the farmer’s wayward daughter.

  It was Jack who spied her first and instantly brought his brothers to heel. ‘There is a lady present!’

  Four sets of deep blue eyes swivelled to her spot by the doorway and both Jack and Joe stood politely.

  ‘I am not sure you should be out of bed, Letty,’ said Joe with his usual air of concern, ‘Do you feel dizzy or light-headed?’

  ‘I am feeling perfectly well, Dr Joe, although I am positively dying of boredom stuck in that room.’ Letty boldly walked towards the table in case anyone wanted to argue and pulled out the only spare chair. Instantly, Jack sprang to attention and solicitously pushed it back in when she sat. He had gentlemanly manners, too. Another thing to like. ‘I thought I might have breakfast with you all. That is if you do not mind my company?’ She smiled at the men hopefully. One of her real smiles rather than one of Violet’s. A test for herself.