by Kate Pearce
His mother rose and came toward him, putting her hand on his arm. “Please have some tea, Francis. At least give me that.”
He moved away from her touch and pulled out a chair. “If you insist.”
“If you had bothered to read any of the letters I’ve sent you, this confrontation and conversation wouldn’t even be necessary.” She poured some tea and passed him the cup. “You might not choose to undertake your responsibilities to this estate, your title, and your tenants, but there are matters that need to be discussed for the future.”
“I fail to see any signs of a calamity.” He sipped his tea. “The place isn’t falling down, and you appear to be in excellent health.”
“And you expect me to stay here and manage everything for you forever?”
He shrugged. “You’ve always managed everything. My father and brother were too busy hunting, shooting and fishing to attend to the business of the estate.”
“That isn’t quite true.”
“I’ll allow that my father showed a peripheral interest in the place—mainly to ensure he had the finances available to pursue his real interests—but my brother wasn’t involved at all.”
“How would you know? You went to India and never returned.” His mother raised her chin, her gaze fixed on his.
“Charles wrote to me regularly.” He raised his eyebrows at his mother’s shocked expression. “Didn’t you know that? He told me exactly how things stood here, the arguments about his gambling, his womanizing, and his debts. He thought it all a huge joke until it wasn’t, and he was shot dead in a stupid, pointless, duel over a worthless, married woman.”
Mrs. Harding cleared her throat. “Captain Grafton…”
“Yes?” he turned to find her biting her lip.
“Perhaps we should go. The weather is definitely worsening.”
His mother stood and faced him. “Regardless of what happened in the past, Francis, and who is to blame, you are still the owner and lord of this estate, and other properties. One day I will die, and it will all be on you.”
He bowed. “Then let’s hope you live a very long and very happy life, Mother. Please send me word on Mrs. Musgrove. Good day to you.”
Caroline picked up her skirts and followed Captain Grafton back to the stables. There was no sign of Mr. Potts, but the horses were saddled and ready to go.
“Why were you so horrible to your mother?” Caroline asked, as she made sure the pins in her hat were secure.
“Horrible?” He looked down his nose at her. “She bloody deserved it.
She spoiled and ruined my brother, she neglected me, and sacrificed us both to her damned twin gods of family and respectability.”
“She simply attempted to converse with you and work out what will happen to your family estate and title.”
“She never ‘simply’ does anything. She got me here to see Mrs. Musgrove, not for some sentimental reason, but because she wanted to force me to come here and deal with her on her terms.”
“It is your family home.”
“I don’t give a damn about this bloody place.” He swung around on Caroline so quickly that she took an involuntary step backward. “I’d burn it to the ground if I could.”
“I don’t believe you.” she met his furious gaze. “The fact that you are so angry indicates that you do care.”
“And when did you decide you had the right to determine what I’m thinking?” he snapped. “We share a bed, Mrs. Harding, we fuck. That’s hardly a bond of love or matrimony.”
Caroline glared right back at him. “The fact that you think you can just throw all of this away?” She flung out her hands. “That it means nothing to you when for the vast majority of the population this place would be considered paradise! Your conceit is unbelievable.”
She put her gloves on over her shaking hands. “If I could live here, have this life back, I would go down on my knees and pray every night to God in thanks.”
“And we both know how pretty you look down on your knees,” he sneered.
Before she even realized she meant to do it she slapped his face, so hard his head snapped back. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers hard and unyielding.
“Get on your damned horse, Mrs. Harding, before l give into temptation, and leave without you.”
She wrenched her wrist free, marched over to the mounting block and managed to get up by herself.
He rammed his hat down on his head and set off much too fast. Caroline had no intention of chasing him down. She’d keep him in her sights, and if the worst came to the worst and she lost him, she was fairly certain she would eventually find her way back to Millcastle.
Chapter 10
Caroline coughed into her handkerchief and blew her nose for what felt like the thousandth time that day. The sleet had settled and hardened into dirty grey ice that made the streets treacherous, and it had started to snow again. She peered at her calculations and reluctantly decided that she would have to light the lantern even though it was still afternoon.
She’d seen no sign of Captain Grafton for almost two days, which suited her perfectly well. He hadn’t spoken to her on the journey back to Millcastle and had ridden off without a word after she’d dismounted at the dressmakers. He hadn’t visited her bed either, which was perfectly fine with her. The quietness of his office was most peculiar. He left her notes on her desk, but other than that left her alone.
She felt her hot forehead. If there was nothing else required of her, she might go to bed early. She didn’t feel well at all, and that wasn’t helping her nagging worry that Captain Grafton might not only have lost interest in bedding her, but in employing her. Could she go back to working for Madame? She’d miss the challenges of her work for Captain Grafton, and if she were honest with herself, she’d miss him too.
He was the first man who had ever challenged her, and in his own particular way, appreciated her strengths and intelligence. He didn’t treat her like a fragile object to be placed gently on a shelf. He enraged her, he made her reveal and revel in parts of her own physicality she had never experienced before. She didn’t like him, but he was a worthy foe.
Caroline closed the accounts book and locked it in her desk before walking across to Captain Grafton’s office where his desk was still bare. Had he left for London without telling her? She’d heard that the main roads south were impassable, but that wouldn’t stop her employer. He’d stayed in Millcastle for almost two months now, which was not his usual pattern.
She went down the stairs to speak to her sister, as her mother was already sick and in bed, only to discover that the shop was about to close early. Madame Louise called out to her.
“Ah, there you are, Mrs. Harding. I was just about to come upstairs and get you. There is no point staying open in this weather. Half my staff is sick, and no one with any sense is out and about in this wind. Please lock the front door and turn off the lights before you return upstairs.”
“Yes, Madame.” Caroline stifled a cough as she let Madame out and locked the door behind her. She went out to the workrooms to make sure that everyone, including Ivy had left, and then returned to the front of the store to set the sign on the door to Closed.
Even as she approached the glass-fronted door, there was a disturbance outside as a carriage drew up, and a woman tumbled out.
“Mrs. Harding!” Miss Emily Marsham knocked on the glass. “Please let me in!”
Concealing a sigh, Caroline unlocked the door, and let her unexpected visitor come inside.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Miss Marsham gasped. “There has been a terrible calamity with my ball gown for this evening.”
“What exactly has happened to it?” Caroline inquired.
“One of my little dogs caught hold of the hem and ripped out the stitching and unraveled everything.”
“So the gown just needs to be re-hemmed.” Caroline hesitated. “Forgive me, but is there not someone within your household who could manage such a task?”
“Almost ev
eryone is sick, and no one can sew a seam as well as you and your mother can.”
“Did you bring the gown with you?”
Miss Marsham’s face fell. “Oh no, that never occurred to me. I was praying your mother might come out and fix it for me.”
“My mother is too ill to leave the house.”
“Then—could you do it?” Miss Marsham raised her hopeful gaze to meet Caroline’s. “I am more than willing to pay for your time, and I would be so grateful to you.” She hesitated. “My father will be so angry if I am not suitably turned out for this ball at Grovedale House, and he will make my mother cry, and feel inadequate, and—”
“I will come with you.” Caroline put her hand on Miss Marsham’s arm. She’d noticed the fear in Mrs. Marsham’s eyes, and the faint bruises on her body during her dress fittings. “I’ll just get my cloak.”
Three hours later, Caroline sat back and surveyed her work. The hem was now repaired, as were the small rents in the fabric from the pug dog’s teeth. She doubted anyone would notice that the gown was less than half an inch shorter all around. She stood, and immediately had to grab onto one of the chairs to steady herself against a desire to faint.
Blinking hard she surveyed Emily Marsham’s bedroom, and the anxious face of the girl herself, and forced a smile.
“Perhaps you might turn around for me so that I can see if there is anything I have missed.”
Miss Emily obligingly spun in a slow circle, her hands clasped at her waist. “I think it’s perfect. Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome, Miss Marsham.”
A tap on the door revealed one of the maids. “Mrs. Marsham requests your presence in the drawing room. Your guests are here.”
Miss Emily gasped and twirled around again while her maid attempted to hand her her gloves and fan and make sure her hair pins were secured amongst a riot of ringlets.
She turned to Caroline and pressed a bank note in her hand. “Thank you again.”
A moment later she was gone in a trail of perfume leaving her maid and Caroline to deal with the mess. It took Caroline a while to gather her supplies and put everything away because she frequently had to stop to cough and sneeze in a most annoying manner. She was hungry, her head hurt, and she had a fever. The only thing she wanted was to go home and rest in her bed.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Prudence, Miss Emily’s maid who had provided invaluable assistance to Caroline, curtsied to her. “I’ll take you down to the kitchen to collect your things.”
Caroline picked up her sewing basket and followed the maid out onto the landing that overlooked the hall below. She paused for a second to look down and received the most unwelcome jolt in her stomach as Captain Grafton looked right back at her. The Marsham family surrounded him as he tenderly placed Miss Emily’s cloak around her shoulders.
He looked perfectly at home in his immaculate evening clothes and nothing like the man who sometimes visited her bed.
“This way, Mrs. Harding.”
Prudence held the door to the servants’ stairs open. Caroline stepped back, and meekly followed the maid down to the kitchen. She’d known Captain Grafton was escorting Miss Emily Marsham to the ball, but seeing him there in such company, dressed impeccably and fitting in so easily made her chest hurt. Was it because he was accepted in both worlds and she was not? Was she jealous?
In the kitchen, Prudence introduced her to the cook who offered her a cup of tea, and a large slice of fruitcake, which Caroline gratefully accepted. When she’d finished eating, she put on her cloak and old boots, and made her way to the stables. To her surprise the place was quiet, and it took her a while to find even one of the stable lads.
“I need to get home,” Caroline smiled at the boy. “Miss Emily Marsham told me to ask the coachman to take me.”
“Can’t do that, Miss.” The boy said. “Mr. Coachmen, the carriage and the horses have all gone out to Grovedale House.”
Caroline stared at him, her mind in a whirl. How could she have been so stupid? She glanced out into the darkness. At least it wasn’t snowing. “Then I suppose I will have to walk.”
The boy nodded and offered her a cheery good night before disappearing into the warmth of the stable block. Caroline wrapped her shawl over her head, tied the ends around her waist, and buttoned her coat up. She was so overheated that the thought of walking through the snow was almost appealing. She reckoned it was less than two miles back to the center of Millcastle, and that she would be safely home by midnight.
She placed her sewing basket in the crook of her elbow and turned toward the drive ignoring the slice of wind battering her face. The sooner she started, the sooner she would get home.
“And my pug was playing, and pulled a thread on my new dress, and the whole hem came down!” Miss Emily Marsham gestured at the bottom of her pink satin gown. “If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Mrs. Harding, I would’ve had to appear at the ball in rags!”
“I thought I saw Mrs. Harding in your house,” Francis said as he expertly located a table for his dance partner and held out her chair. It was suppertime at the ball and seating was already scarce. “I did wonder what she was doing there.”
“She was being a saint and fixing my gown for me. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank her enough.”
“I thought Mrs. Delisle was the dressmaker in the family, and that Mrs. Harding worked for me.”
“I understand that Mrs. Delisle was unwell.” Miss Marsham looked conscience-stricken. “Mrs. Harding was coughing and trying to pretend that she wasn’t. I do hope she returned home safely.”
Francis pictured that brief surprised moment when he’d seen Mrs. Harding above the gathering in the hall. She’d looked exhausted. If she were sick, what had possessed her to rush out to the Marshams simply to fix a hem? He would never understand her—not that he particularly wanted to—seeing as she obviously considered him a fool.
Her scathing comments about his disregard for his inherited privilege had hit him harder than he anticipated, and he’d reacted accordingly. But that was Caroline Harding all over. She made him behave in ways that were unacceptable to him. He smiled automatically as Emily Marsham chatted away and nodded whenever she drew breath.
He should go back to London. Millcastle was a depressing place, and not one he wished to deal with for much longer. As soon as the weather cleared up, he would be off. He glanced at his bright-faced companion. If he weren’t careful, he’d be stirring up hopes in the Marsham family of a romance between him and this chit who was terribly nice, but half his age. Even a few hours spent in what constituted as polite society in this godforsaken mill town reminded him why he hated it.
“Captain Grafton?”
“Yes?”
Miss Emily sighed. “I apologize if I am boring you. Would you prefer to talk about your business interests? My father suggested they weren’t very savory, and that I should avoid the topic and focus instead on the more trivial aspects of life.”
“Your father is correct. My business interests are indeed not a fit topic of conversation for a lady.” Apart from with Mrs. Harding, but she was an anomaly in his life. “And, it is I who should be apologizing for boring you.” It was his turn to be honest. “In truth, I find such occasions rather insipid.”
“Oh,” she studied him, her mouth slightly open. “Whereas to me they are everything. You have a house and business interests in London as well, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“I have never been to London, but I can imagine that society here is indeed ‘insipid’ compared to there.” She smiled at him.
“It is even worse in London where everyone contrives to waste as much money as they can to impress others and indulge in everything that is forbidden or distasteful simply because they can. I wouldn’t wish to see you exposed to such hypocrisy and greed, Miss Marsham.”
“Well, I’d at least like to see it for myself. My father thinks that I need to be married first before I am allowed a visi
t.”
“Your father has a point. You are one of his heirs, I assume?”
“I suppose I am,” she said doubtfully. “It is not something that is discussed.”
“Then if you went to London you would be considered a ‘catch’, and all the disreputable men would be after you for your money.”
“That’s rather unappealing.” She paused. “Don’t you think that some of them might like me for myself?”
Francis tried to remember what it was like to be so young and naïve about the world. “Of course, they would like you—how could they not?”
Her smile was sweet. “Thank you for that, at least.” She glanced past him to the window. “It really is snowing quite hard now. I wonder if our host has noticed? Perhaps it might be better if we all started for home before he has to find beds for us all.”
Francis made sure that Miss Marsham was properly bundled up in her cloak and fur hat before handing her up into his carriage along with her brother who was acting as her chaperone for the short ride home. The snow was coming down faster now, and the winds were making it swirl around like a spinning top.
He paused to speak to his coachmen. “Take your time, Ned. I don’t want to harm the horses.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He got in, and closed the door, smiling at his companions. “Don’t worry, Miss Marsham. We’ll get you home safely.”
The carriage rocked back and forth as the driver turned the horses and set off toward the Marsham property which was less than two miles from Grovedale House. Francis turned his attention to the state of the roads rubbing the window glass free of condensation with his gloved fingers so that he could see out.
After a mile or so, a flash of blue caught his attention on the side of the road and he peered into the darkness. Was someone walking in this weather? Before he could decide the carriage took another turn, and he lost sight of the figure. When they arrived at the Marshams house, he helped the other occupants out and bowed over Miss Marsham’s hand.
“It has been a pleasure, Miss Emily.”
She gazed up at him. “Will you not come in and at least have a warm drink before you venture forth again?”
