“Do you know where your mother is this morning?” Richard asked.
“She’s gone into the village with some of the other ladies,” James answered.
“Fine. I will see her at luncheon.” Richard considered the boys for a moment, an uncomfortable sense of obligation nagging at him. He needed to make some sort of effort with them, but hardly knew where to start. “What are the two of you doing today?”
James’s eyes rounded. He cast a nervous eye at his brother. Edward seemed to brace himself, but recovered quickly. “We have our lessons with Mr. Johnson this morning. But we won’t have any studies after lunch so we can help Reverend Abernathy at the church.”
“A group of boys have been asked to help build the manger for the Christmas pageant,” James added.
“Sounds like dull work,” Richard commented.
“Oh, no, it’s lots of fun,” James volunteered. “We’ll also get to paint the scenery and gather the props.” He took a deep breath, ready to elaborate further, then caught his brother’s gaze and stopped abruptly.
Richard waited. He was surprised at how sharply he felt their dismissal. A rising sense of determination to develop some sort of relationship with the pair swelled inside him. But the problem was, Richard had no idea how to proceed.
And even worse, the boys seemed to know it.
The admission was galling. Richard was an expert at solving problems, but he was also wise enough to realize he would need help with this one. He tried in vain to remember what it was like to be a boy, yet his memories were vague. Perhaps George could offer some insights; he seemed to have little difficulty slipping into a childish frame of mind.
The silence between them lengthened. James’s stare soon turned to fidgeting, while Edward’s expression remained sullen.
“I suppose your tutor is waiting for you,” Richard said finally, admitting defeat.
“Yes,” Edward answered promptly.
“Then I imagine I’ll see you both sometime later today,” Richard replied.
“Come along, James. We’ll be late for our lessons if we don’t hurry.” Edward skewered Richard with a look suggesting that the problem was Richard’s fault before the pair rushed away.
In a slightly less optimistic mood Richard entered his study. He found the papers he had requested on the top of his desk. Lifting the first page, he began reading, frowning when he discovered an error. Miss Hardie was usually so careful.
Richard reached for a pen, then swiveled his body to sit in his desk chair. As he began to descend, a memory of James’s nervous twitching flashed into his mind. Was the reason for the child’s nerves another prank? Pulling up short, he thrust his hand on the chair seat, checking for glue. Or molasses. Or any other substance that did not belong.
After confirming the seat was clean, Richard settled into the chair. Gingerly. He had just finished reading the papers when Miss Hardie arrived. He explained the changes required and she sat at her own, much smaller desk to complete the work.
Richard played idly with the pen on his desk as he watched his secretary. Her elegant hand moved with deft precision as she wrote, her eyes darting back and forth between the two documents. Her brown dress emphasized her plain looks, but in his opinion it was the spark of intelligence in her eyes that saved her from being ordinary.
Miss Hardie sat with her back held so straight it didn’t touch the chair, a gesture he always thought bespoke a prudish nature, but now he wasn’t as certain. She was proper and well mannered and had most likely been told that was how a genteel woman should sit. Even one who was required to work for her living.
After ten minutes Miss Hardie set down her pen, tidied the pile of papers, then glanced up at Richard. Her brows knit together in a frown. “Was there something else?” she asked.
“A personal question, if you don’t mind?”
He saw her stiffen. Damn. He probably shouldn’t have asked, but she was not the type who would tell him only what he wanted to hear. She would be truthful. And honest.
“I was wondering about your brothers, Miss Hardie.”
“My brothers?”
“Were you very close growing up?”
She appeared startled by the question. But then her eyes softened with memory and she smiled, ever so slightly. “Raymond, David, and Matthew were all younger than me. When they were little, they greatly enjoyed the attentions of their big sister, but alas as they grew older they preferred to play amongst themselves or with the other boys.
“Though they were protective in their own way and always quick to defend me against anyone who dared to taunt or tease me. Why do you ask?”
“I never had any siblings. James and Edward seem to share a unique bond. I was curious about it.”
Miss Hardie’s smile broadened. “I believe the expression ‘thick as thieves’ is an accurate description of many a sibling pair. Including your stepsons.”
“They don’t like me very much.” Just hearing the words spoken aloud made Richard cringe. He sounded like a sap.
Miss Hardie’s expression softened. “Boys like men who treat them as equals, who listen to their opinions. My brothers were always thrilled whenever my father praised their actions or complimented their work.”
“Even when they were young boys?”
“Especially as boys. They wanted nothing more than to make him proud, but in order to receive praise, it was necessary to do something that would cause Father to take notice of them. Once they built a tree house with scraps of wood they found, only to discover the wood was meant for a fence to be constructed around the garden.
“My father had a fit when he discovered what the boys had done. It’s a wonder they didn’t break their necks tearing that tree house apart, each trying to best the other to finish the job first. Truly, they were quite shameless at times when they vied for my father’s attention.”
Richard’s mouth drooped. “I’m not sure Edward and James want my attention. Frankly, I get the distinct impression they would prefer it if I simply disappeared.”
“You are an unknown element in their lives,” she said earnestly. “Naturally they resent you. Additionally, they know so little about you. I think in this case you have two choices—either conquer them or win them over.”
Richard settled back in his chair, weaving his fingers together. Conquering didn’t appear to be going all that swimmingly. Winning them over might be the preferred method, but how? “Bribery?”
“That might work with the younger boy, but the older one is too shrewd to be so easily swayed.”
Richard rubbed his hand along his jaw. Miss Hardie was right. The last thing Edward seemed to want was to give him a chance. He and his brother had been against Richard from the start.
Well, maybe not James so much. He’d been eager, even friendly. Edward, on the other hand, had always acted with sullen, stubborn pride, making little effort to hide his disdain.
Richard supposed it wouldn’t hurt to compliment the boy. That would certainly be a different approach. Though it would be a stretch to find something positive to say and an insincere remark would only make things worse.
The clock chimed the hour. His meeting with Dixon was due to start any minute. Miss Hardie scurried back to her desk, retrieving the rest of the documents that were needed.
“I hope you haven’t found all these holiday activities too distracting from your work,” Richard said as they waited for Dixon to arrive.
“Quite the contrary. It feels good to be around so many happy people. Surprisingly, it’s also helped to ease the pain of not having my father and brothers with me. It was very generous of you and Mrs. Harper to include me.” Miss Hardie smiled, her eyes sparkling in a most attractive way. “There has been a great deal of work, but Mr. Barclay has proved to be a tremendous help with various matters.”
Barclay? Richard had almost forgotten his former secretary was still in residence, ostensibly working for Juliet, though she was far too busy organizing Christmas to be working
on further renovations.
“I’m pleased to learn that Barclay is making himself useful,” Richard said, brushing his hand across his mouth to hide his smile. Barclay seemed to have made quite an impression on Miss Hardie. Her color had spiked noticeably when mentioning his name. Interesting.
Richard wondered how George would take the news of a rival for Miss Hardie’s affection. Not very well, he suspected.
Dixon arrived. Miss Hardie faded into the background, pen poised to take the notes Richard would review later. Dixon was the kind of man who firmly believed he knew what others were thinking better than they knew themselves. On occasion he even credited someone with words that had never been spoken. Previously, Richard had used that flaw to his advantage, but the terms of this partnership demanded complete accuracy.
The men sat opposite each other in leather chairs before the fire. The informal setting did little to ease the intensity of the negotiations. Dixon grumbled, argued a particular point, then stopped suddenly in midsentence.
“What’s that noise?”
Richard paused, hearing only the crackling of the logs burning in the fireplace. “Miss Hardie?”
“I also heard some sort of scratching sound, but it has stopped,” she answered.
All three waited another moment, but nothing further was heard. Dixon’s gaze sharpened. “I insist that this section of the contract be changed to—”
“What in the hell,” Richard exclaimed, rising from his chair. A blur of black-and-white fur scurried across the rug, nearly colliding with his foot. “Did you see that?”
“Couldn’t miss it,” Dixon replied, scratching his head. “I saw it run under the sofa. I think it might have been a cat.”
“A cat?” Richard asked. He had seen a few plump tabbies in the stable yard, but to the best of his knowledge there weren’t any house cats. Then again, he was woefully ignorant of all the workings of the household. “I don’t believe the children keep any house pets. But if they do, the creatures certainly don’t belong in here.”
“Cats tend to seek warmth and the fire in here is blazing,” Miss Hardie said. “Though I am puzzled as to how the animal got in here in the first place.”
Richard’s jaw tensed. The boys! A cat suddenly appearing in his study was no accident, and the inquisitive animal could certainly cause a most annoying distraction. As it already had. Striding across the room, Richard knelt down in front of the sofa, attempting to see underneath.
His movements must have frightened the animal, for it bolted suddenly, scampering to the opposite side of the room before disappearing behind the velvet drapes.
Miss Hardie squealed. Dixon shouted.
“Damn! Did you see it, Harper?” Dixon asked.
“I saw something,” Richard answered. “But it moved so swiftly I barely caught a glimpse.”
Miss Hardie turned wide eyes toward Richard. “Could it be a rat?”
He made a disgusted noise. “Not in my house.”
Dixon hurried across the room, in the same direction as the mysterious intruder. Richard rose from his knees, brushed away a few stray hairs of black fur from his trousers, and followed.
“No, it wasn’t a rat,” Dixon insisted. “But now I’m not as certain it was a cat. I did see a rather long, pointed sort of face. Maybe it’s a very small dog, some mutt of indeterminable breed. You find them everywhere in the country.”
Richard hitched his shoulders into a shrug, again uncertain. It could be a dog. Or a cat. Or even a rat, though he had so vehemently denied the possibility. He tugged sharply on the bell pull, wanting very much to have Edward and James brought to the study to remove the creature, for he was certain they were the ones who had put it here.
Hellfire! Letting Dixon see his household in such disarray would reflect badly on him, and this was the worst possible moment in their negotiations to show any weakness or lack of control.
Suddenly Miss Hardie stiffened, her gaze on the floor. The creature appeared from behind the drapes. Sporting an elongated body, short, well-muscled legs, and long front claws, it moved cautiously forward.
For a brief second Richard lost the power of both speech and thought. “That’s not a cat,” he croaked, hardly believing what his eyes were seeing. Yet the single thick stripe of white fur across the back and tail left no doubt. “It’s a skunk.”
“What?” Dixon said loudly.
“A skunk,” Richard repeated.
“Impossible,” Dixon argued. “There aren’t any skunks in England.”
“Well, there are skunks in the Colonies and I know one when I see one,” Richard insisted. “That is most definitely a skunk.”
“Is it yours?” Dixon questioned. “Did you bring it here from America?”
“Why would anyone in their right mind bring a skunk with them anywhere?” Richard protested.
Dixon nodded. “Precisely. Therefore, it isn’t a skunk.”
“It is,” Richard insisted emphatically, turning to Miss Hardie for confirming support.
His secretary stood as if mesmerized, her mouth opening and closing slowly, though no sound could be heard.
“I’m going to prove you wrong, Harper.” Dixon lunged for the animal, which remained in open view.
“Don’t!” Richard shouted, but it was too late. The moment Dixon pounced, the animal turned, lifted its tail, and sprayed. A stream of noxious vapor hit him squarely in the chest, the foul odor permeating the room.
For the first time since Richard had met him, Dixon appeared robbed of words. He was staring at Richard with a look of total disbelief, his face thunderstruck, his brow dark and fierce, his lips drawn into a line so tight they were white.
“Ugh, rotten eggs,” Miss Hardie wailed, stumbling away, directly into the path of the cornered skunk.
“Miss Hardie, stop!” Richard cried. “Do not stand in front of the animal. It can spray again.”
“Oh, merciful heavens.” Miss Hardie placed a lace handkerchief to her nose and coughed. “What should I do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Damned if I know,” Richard muttered.
Just then a footman answering the bell summons arrived. His eyes widened with shock when he saw the skunk, then immediately started watering from the fumes. Richard’s own eyes were burning, but he wasn’t going to leave until the animal was caught.
“You’ll need heavy gloves to avoid getting scratched by those claws and a strong sack to put the creature inside,” Richard said.
“But I’m a house servant, sir,” the man answered in nervous protest.
Richard nearly shook the man. This was hardly the time to debate the ridiculous hierarchy of British servants. “Then fetch one of the grooms and tell him what needs to be done. And make certain no one else hears what is happening. I don’t want this to turn into more of a circus than it is already.”
The footman was gone in an instant. Probably to escape from the smell, Richard thought. Praying the man would follow his dictates to the letter, Richard returned his attention to the problem at hand. The skunk was still standing its ground on the edge of the carpet, while Miss Hardie and Dixon were frozen in place.
Conversation at this juncture seemed ridiculous, and a loud discourse might only further provoke the animal. Richard knew the skunk was capable of spraying more than once—the very last thing any of them needed was more of these disgusting fumes wafting about the room, seeping into their clothing and skin.
In the ensuing quiet, Richard could hear Dixon alternating between murmuring his outrage and grinding his teeth. Miss Hardie had managed to compose herself, even daring at one point to glower at the skunk, yet she wisely made no sound or movement. For his own part, Richard struggled to remain calm, his mind conjuring all manner of retribution for Edward and James.
In a surprisingly short time the door opened and a young, burly servant entered. His expression curious, he carried a long stick in one hand and a burlap sack in the other. Richard felt the breath he had been holding
finally escape his lungs.
“Please capture the skunk and remove it from the room,” Richard instructed. “I caution that you will need to be very careful not to frighten the creature or else it will spray again. Do you understand?”
The groom nodded, unperturbed by the odd request. He moved farther into the study, coming up short when he spied his prey. “Why, it’s just old Charlie. I thought it might be when Harry told me I was needed.”
“You know this animal?” Richard asked in surprise.
“There aren’t many of his kind around these parts,” the servant answered sympathetically. “He belongs to Mr. Hollingsworth.”
“As a pet?” Miss Hardie asked in an incredulous tone.
The groom looked at Miss Hardie and then shrugged. “I suppose. He keeps him in a pen in the yard. It has a wooden house and a few small bushes. Don’t really know how Charlie ended up in here, though. I’ve never heard of him escaping before.”
“I believe he had help,” Richard said wryly.
“I’m sure I can catch him,” the servant said confidently. “But I’ll need each of you to stand very still.”
True to his word, the groom was able to cautiously circle around the skunk, and then with lightning speed dropped the sack over its head. There were a few squeaks heard from the wriggling bundle and then all was quiet as it was carried out the door.
A shared sense of relief descended over the study once the animal was gone. Richard allowed himself a brief smile as the tension left the room. He exchanged a look of salvation with Miss Hardie, then turned toward Dixon.
The other man’s eyes were blazing, his lips turned down with a cruel edge. He looked ready to explode. Beneath his breath Richard uttered a curse, acknowledging that this ordeal was far from over.
It took fifteen solid minutes for Richard to calm Walter Dixon’s ranting. By the time he was done, his own temper had nearly reached the breaking point.
Reeking of skunk and anger, Richard stormed into the schoolroom, startling Edward, James, and their tutor.
Tis the Season to Be Sinful Page 22
