She attempted to respond in a lighter tone. "I have only one request this time."
"Ah." Leaning back in his brocaded wing chair, Sir Gerard sipped his tea. "I almost fear one request more than a list. A single one may be more than I can handle."
Not for a moment did she believe this protestation. "One of my students is doing extremely well with his learning. Although he is the son of one of your tenants, I think a clerk apprenticeship would be appropriate for him. You could find such a position for him." Her speech was not the smooth presentation she had intended, but at least she managed to state everything.
He lifted an eyebrow. "How long has your school been opened?"
"Almost a month." She realized where his question was aiming. "I know it has only been opened a short time, but because he has learned so quickly, I am here on his behalf."
"Does he expect me to find him such a position?"
"No, I have not yet broached the matter to him."
With a troubled frown on his face, Sir Gerard set down his teacup. "I am glad of that. I would not want you to raise impossible hopes."
She feared the meaning behind those words. "Sir, Jack is an excellent student."
"I have no doubt of that. But, Miss Courtney, he is the son of a tenant farmer. Is it right to take him out of his class?"
Her lips tightened. "If he possesses the ability to do so, yes. God expects each of us to use the capabilities He has bestowed upon us."
Sir Gerard held up a hand as if to stop the flow of her words. "Do not repeat to me the parable of the men with
talents. I already have heard it. I am more accustomed to a society where everyone knows his place. I know where I belong."
"The times are changing," she said in a softer tone. "We are discovering how important it is to use the talents of everyone, whether an aristocrat or a tenant farmer."
"Yes, I know the reformers are right in the end." He smiled ruefully. "But I liked it better when I knew I was destined for the top of the heap. Now you are changing the foundation beneath me."
"Not just me." Looking at him, she saw the elegance of his life in the tailored manner in which his jacket fit his shoulders and narrowed at the waist. His waistcoat was of a fine embroidered broadcloth. Buckskin stretched over his well-shaped legs. Yet during their drive, Mr. Linton had revealed what it had taken the baronet to achieve his position in society. In his own way, Sir Gerard had been using his God-given talents. "Besides, it has always been the duty of gentry to look out for the interests of those under their care."
"Touche, Miss Courtney." He rubbed a hand under his smoothly shaven chin. "You truly think he is ready for a clerk position now?"
She hesitated. Honesty forced her to tell the truth. "Perhaps not exactly at this moment, but very soon. Jack is a very bright boy. It will not take him much longer to learn his skills."
"So you said." He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Holding her breath, Annette watched him closely. This moment he would decide, and she did not want her slightest movement to tip the decision against her.
"It still seems too soon to me, but—" He shook his
head to forestall her incipient protest. "I will keep an eye open for a position for a likely lad."
Pleasure at her success poured through her like the warmth of the tea. "Thank you, sir. Jack deserves this opportunity."
His gaze studied her, and she met it direcdy. She had never been shy when requesting help for others. Indeed, many times it was her refusal to be cowed by a loud lecture on the dissolute habits of the poor that gained her the coins she needed.
Yet this time no lecture from the baronet greeted her request. Unlike his uncle, Sir Gerard served a full-bodied tea with an overflowing dish of cakes. She could even eat two of them without a noticeable difference in the pile. Now his eyes gazed steadily into hers. In their dark depths she read liking and a hint of gentle amusement. A slight smile curved his lips, as if he knew how this call had not followed the path set by his uncle. He was a man who set his own path. Unaccountably, she felt a blush steal onto her cheek.
She took refuge in sipping her tea and then set the cup down on the table with a clatter. Perhaps it was too much hot tea that made her feel so overheated and awkward.
Taking herself in hand, Annette continued, "While we are on the subject of your tenants, I would like to bring up the conditions of some of their cottages. They are in horrible shape."
Sir Gerard leaned back in his chair, the smile still on his face. "Fie on you, Miss Courtney! Despite all your admonitions to me, you appear to possess gambling tendencies yourself."
"Gambling? Me? Never!"
"Oh, indeed, yes." His grin stretched wide with wicked
teasing. "Since you are pushing your run of luck with me, you are acting like any lucky bettor who does not know when to leave the table."
The flush on her face burned hotter. "Are you not concerned about the tenants' cottages?"
The amusement fled from his face. "Of course I am, but there is nothing I can do at this moment. There are a thousand demands upon this estate, and I can satisfy none of them."
"Because of your gambling tendencies?" she asked quietly.
"No! Because the money that should have been used for these needs no longer belongs to the estate."
She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I do regret that. You know it was not my doing."
Leaning forward, he took her hand in his. His touch was gentle as his fingers curled around her palm. Strength lay in his grip. Calluses showed the work he had done with the horses.
"I know that now." His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. "I can turn this estate around. It will take time, but there is a sound basis allowing it to produce the necessary rents. Someday I will be able to take care of the tenants."
"But they suffer so now!"
She could feel the heat of his grasp through her gloves. Even if it were highly improper, she made no move to withdraw her fingers. The kid fabric stretched over her hand like a second skin, offering no barrier to her awareness of his touch.
"You are quite a fierce champion for others." Sir Gerard's voice was soft, but she heard the sincere admiration underlying his words.
Rattled, she assumed a brusque attitude. "I believe it is my Christian duty to help those less fortunate."
"Is it only duty that drives you so strongly?"
"What else could there be?"
"A stronger emotion perhaps," he said. "One such as hate."
Annette jerked herself upright bumping the table, but he did not release her hand. Some of her tea slopped over the cup's edge, but she ignored it. "I do not hate anyone!"
He eyed her intently. "No," he said slowly, "I believe you do not. I think, more than duty, it is love which motivates you."
She gaped at him. "Love?"
"Yes, love. You may call it your duty or Christian charity or any other term, but actually your heart is so big and so full that it encompasses everyone you meet."
Annette blinked. "You are being foolish, sir. I never thought of such a thing."
"Of course not. You are always so busy thinking of others that you never look at yourself. Tell me, Miss Courtney, what was your opinion of my uncle?"
She hesitated. "Why, only that he was so tight with his money I had to show him where his duty as baronet lay."
Nodding, Sir Gerard exclaimed, "You prove my point. My uncle knew his duty, but since he was a selfish, old man, he refused to do it. Only you could demand it from him."
Annette mulled over his words for a moment. Sir Gerard offered her an entirely different perspective of her life. "I never thought of it that way."
"No, you assume only the good intentions of others."
"I think I prefer believing in the good rather than being
suspicious of everyone I meet. After all, I know these people in Upper Brampton."
He withdrew his hand. "Yes, Upper Brampton is your domain, just as London is mine."
<
br /> Now that her hand was free, Annette was conscious of the loss of his grip's warmth. The coolness made her feel a little bereft, but for what she did not know. "Perhaps one day I should go to London. Lucille is always urging me to
go"
"I wonder what the haute ton would make of you."
"Society and I?" Annette giggled. "I would never fit in. No, I would like to go to London to talk with some of the groups which are working so hard to improve the lot of the lower classes."
"Your London is very different than mine." Abruptly, he stood and strode over to the window.
The heavy draperies framing the glass still hung open, despite the approaching dusk. The firelight danced on his form, leaving the walls in shadow. Silhouetted against the window, he looked very alone against the outside murki-ness. Annette's heart stirred within her.
Rising, she went to his side. When he turned to look at her, she said, "If I went, would you show me your London?"
His hand cupped her chin. "You are a good woman, Miss Courtney. Probably too good for my London. But, yes, I would show my city to you."
Still holding her, he bent forward. His lips lightly brushed hers. At his soft touch, she felt his tentative question and stayed still in response.
She did not pull away, and he remained to kiss her longer and more fully. Annette's first surprise was how
sweet his touch tasted. Her second was how tender he was.
Since her inheritance, she had been kissed. Those had been eager, wet things she had no interest in repeating. This one was different. A little uncertain, she found herself matching it move for move, reveling in the exploration.
His arms embraced her as her own hands experimentally crept up his chest. Beneath the rough tweed of his jacket, she could feel the strong breadth of his shoulders.
This man continually bewildered her. He never was who she had expected. Thinking to meet a wastrel, she found a man with the well-exercised body of a horse trainer. Expecting a miser, she encountered a man as concerned about Hathaway Hall's tenants as she was. But when she disbelieved his reputation as a gambler, she paid off a money-lender.
At this reminder, she stiffened in his arms. His embrace loosened, but he did not release her.
"What is it?" he asked.
"This is most inappropriate behavior," she told him in her primmest manner.
Smiling, he stroked her hair. "I know. Didn't you enjoy it?"
"I never enjoy inappropriate behavior."
"Then, since you liked it, the behavior must not be inappropriate."
She blinked at him. So easily and so quickly he could confound her. The effect of his charm and his nearness rattled her. To avoid responding to his quip, she pushed herself free from him. He released her immediately, but the smile did not vanish from his lips nor did the laughter disappear from his eyes.
To escape his gaze, she looked outside the window. "Goodness! I had not realized how late it was. I had best be returning home."
"I will have your carriage summoned." Once the butler had been instructed, Sir Gerard turned back to her, the gentle amusement still existent upon his face. "I look forward to the next time you call with a request on someone else's behalf."
From the twinkle in his eye, she knew he remembered their kiss. Did he think every request would end with one? She tried to respond resolutely, but something within her giggled at his teasing. "It should not take me long to find another need."
Momentarily, the teasing cleared from his demeanor. "Unfortunately, I know I can rely on that. The distress of these people is so great."
As she headed back home in her carriage, Annette pondered their meeting. Sir Gerard was so mercurial she could not easily slot him under a label. A gambler certainly, yet not a miser. He obviously loved to tease. Witness that sally about love not duty being her inspiration. Yet, when the subject of his tenants' poverty arose, so did his concern. She highly approved of those sentiments.
Did she also approve of the kiss? Annette gently ran her fingers over her lips, trying to re-create his touch. She only felt kid gloves brushing her mouth. Only he could duplicate that touch. Although she did not want to admit it, she had enjoyed the kiss, despite its obvious inappro-priateness.
Firmly placing her hand on her lap, she shook herself free from these musings. Sir Gerard had made his way through the world using his charm. Naturally a kiss would be a part of his arsenal. How could she rely on such a
man? No matter how much he intrigued her, no matter how much she liked him, no matter how much she wanted to meet him again, she must remember to keep her guard up.
Still, as the carriage jounced through the evening light, Annette wished she knew if the kiss meant something or was it only a homage to the moneybags?
G/uzpte% &&i
The alarm arrived at Hathaway Hall several hours after midnight. By the light of the flickering candle held by his valet, Sir Gerard blinked the sleep from his eyes as he sought to comprehend what his valet was saying.
"A fire?" Sir Gerard repeated the message groggily.
"Yes, sir. One of the tenant farms. It is blazing even now."
The baronet pushed aside the bedcovers, flinching as the cold night air hit his sleep-warmed body. "My clothes. I must dress immediately. Send for Silver Shadow to be ready to ride."
The valet scurried to obey, asking, "Sir, do you intend to ride there in the middle of the night?"
"I do. Which tenant is it?"
'Tim Farmer."
Sir Gerard strode to the window and looked out. A cloud covered the half-moon, providing little light, but there was enough snow on the ground to reflect the small amount of illumination. "His farm lies between here and the village, correct?"
"Yes, sir." The valet had laid out his master's clothing.
The Spinster and the Wastrel 135
Sir Gerard began to dress. "Who brought the news?"
"I am not sure, sir. It may have been one of the neighbors."
It did not really matter who actually brought the alert. The important duty was to respond to it. He dressed quickly, forgoing a cravat in place of a woolen muffler.
Within minutes, he rode through the Wiltshire night. The cold air stung, but fortunately there was no wind. The fire could be contained if stray sparks were doused as quickly as they landed. He hoped the farm owned a good producing well. During his early morning rides, he had ridden past the farm, but other than its location, he could not remember much about it.
Although he wanted to send Silver Shadow through the night at top speed, the erratic light made such a course dangerous. Snow caused the path to be slippery, even as it boosted the moonlight. Barren branches etched dark lines into the night, deepening the shadows beneath them.
Only the sound of his horse's hooves cracking through the thin layer of ice covering the mud broke the night's silence. The animals must all be shivering in their burrows. Not even the screech of a successful hunting owl sounded.
Sir Gerard smelled the fire before he reached it. At first, it scented the air with wood smoke. Yet all too soon, the light smell gave way to the thick fumes warning of the disaster ahead.
Silver Shadow shied beneath his rider. Gently but firmly, Sir Gerard calmed his mount and urged him forward.
The scene at the farmhouse resembled the hellish disaster it was. The fire had passed the stage where an organized effort might have saved something. The heavy smoke clogged the air, causing his eyes to water. The
strength of the blazing inferno had melted the snow in the trampled yard into a muddy morass. Only the roar of its consuming appetite resounded in the farmyard.
Hastily roused neighbors clustered in despairing silence, watching the destruction of the cottage. Buckets and rags to prevent the fire from spreading hung from their hands, but the cottage was lost. Already the roof and walls were ablaze with the orange glow.
At Sir Gerard's approach, their sullen stares swiveled towards him. No one moved to hold his horse as he dismounted. Holding th
e reins in his hand, he strode forward. With all of their eyes focused upon him, he felt like he walked into a wall far more substantial than the smoke hovering over the yard.
This passive distrust was a part of his uncle's legacy. For too long, Sir Nigel had snatched the fruits of their labor and never returned a farthing he was not forced to. Now, when one of their own faced destitution, they did not expect help from the baronet.
Sir Gerard squared his shoulders. He was not his uncle. "Which one of you is Tim Farmer?"
A stout man with a soot-streaked face and begrimed clothing pushed himself forward. "That's me."
Conscious of the other listening ears, Sir Gerard said, "I am sorry to see this destruction. How did it happen?"
The other man took a deep breath and straightened to his full height. "It were the chimney. It's been bad for years, but no repairs ever got done on it. Fire started in it. Could have smoldered for hours and us never know it. It always gave off smoke." With a final condemnation, he added, "And no repairs done even though I asked."
A low growl from the crowd emphasized the truth of the man's words. They probably had similar stories. Sir
Gerard could feel their hostility, as if the fire had burned away the restraints of civilization even as it consumed the home. Danger threatened. Perhaps he should not have come, but this man was one of his tenants.
"That neglect was shameful. It will not happen again."
Tim eyed him truculently. "Fine words from a baronet."
"I mean them," Sir Gerard said. "Is your family safe?"
"Me wife and son got out. We're not hurt." Tim's fists were clenched, but he made no threatening move.
"I am glad they escaped." Sir Gerard's lips thinned as he looked at the destruction. "I will make sure your home is rebuilt."
"Aye, and raise my rents to boot, I'll be bound."
"No, I mean to make up for the hardship you have suffered in the past. Your cottage will be rebuilt, and the chimney will be safe this time."
The spinster and the wastrel Page 11
