Talk? With a high-born lady? “What on earth would we find to talk about?”
“Well…” She clasped her hands once more. “I have wished ever since my arrival to learn more of Scotland, and you have lived here all your life. We share an interest in horses. We work on the same estate. Those topics would likely suffice for a time.”
That sounded painful. “I don’t talk.”
“But we have talked quite a bit today,” she said.
He shook his head at such an argument in favor of more conversation. “Idle talk’d only keep me from m’ work.”
“I could help. I do know how to curry and brush a horse.”
That was near about the most ridiculous thing he’d heard: a governess with white kid gloves and silk dresses and fine manners doing the work of a stable boy. “We’ve hands enough to see to those tasks.”
“I wasn’t petitioning for employment.” Her clasped fingers fidgeted and tugged at one another. Though she didn’t look away, she grew noticeably uncomfortable. “I was hoping to… make a friend.”
A friend? Of him? And her an Englishwoman? She might have deemed him worthy of her notice and conversation, but he had spent enough time interacting with the English and, worse still, the upper classes, to know that such a thing was not a good idea. He’d rather not endure more of the condescension he’d received all his life.
“I’m not in need of friends, Miss Pemberton,” he said.
Heat touched her face and her gaze dropped away. “A good afternoon to you, Mr. Buchanan.”
Humility never seemed to sit lightly on the shoulders of those born to privilege. Miss Pemberton, however, wore it more like sackcloth than a sack of rocks, as if accepting the dismissal of others was an unavoidable, as if she almost deserved punishment rather than this moment of discomfort, which would be shed as quickly as possible.
Dermot knew he’d done the right thing. A friendship between them was not a wise idea. He’d seen far more of the world than she likely had and knew more of the pitfalls of her suggestion.
Why, then, did the necessary rejection of her offer sit with such weight on his chest? Why did he feel like he’d made a mistake?
Chapter Three
I’m not in need of friends. The look in his eyes when he’d said that… Sophia’s face burned at the memory. Until that moment she’d honestly believed that Dermot Buchanan thought of her as being on even footing with him. But a man did not respond to an offer of friendship from an equal with such easy dismissal.
She poked her fork at the venison on her plate. Jenny had the onerous task of putting the children to bed, nearly the only unpleasant task relating to their care that Sophia was not charged with. Sophia always set her tray aside and waited to eat until she was alone in her room. She’d thought early on in her time at Haddington House that she would take her meals below stairs with the housekeeper and Mrs. Haddington’s lady’s maid. But she hadn’t been welcome there.
So her meals were spent alone. Very, very alone.
She pushed her tray a bit away and crossed to her bedchamber window. If she knelt on the window seat and pressed the side of her face against the pane, she could just make out the edge of Loch Lomond. Her bedchamber did not boast the most breathtaking view the house had to offer, but she still loved it. The lake was difficult to see, but the rest of the prospect was lovely. Trees. Hills. In the mornings, a marvelous array of birds.
“I may not have any friends or anyone to talk to, but I am living in a beautiful place.” She chose to find some comfort in that.
Turning her head in the other direction, she could see the paddock. It was from this vantage point she’d first come to know Dermot Buchanan. She’d watched him care for the horses with expertise and compassion. She’d seen for herself the authoritative, but respectful way he interacted with his stable hands. He was generally quiet, tending toward the solemn, but from her window, she’d witnessed rare moments when he’d laughed out loud, happiness lighting the features of his face.
If he had any idea she watched him when he worked, he’d have done far more than reject her friendship. He’d have sent for the squire and seen her tossed into jail. Loneliness had made her desperate. And pathetic.
Someone knocked at her bedchamber door.
“Come in,” she said.
One of the chambermaids poked her head inside. “Beggin’ your pardon. Mrs. Haddington wishes to see you in the library.”
That did not bode well. Mrs. Haddington almost never sent for her and hadn’t once done so to offer a compliment or pass along good news.
When Sophia stepped inside the library, both Mr. and Mrs. Haddington were there. She hadn’t been expecting that. Avoiding Mr. Haddington had become a daily goal of hers.
“You sent for me?” Sophia addressed Mrs. Haddington quite specifically.
“I understand you caused a disruption at the stables this afternoon.”
A disruption? “I only went to relay the message that you had not granted me the use of any of your mares and would not be riding.”
Mrs. Haddington smoothed the fabric of her dress. “I might have granted you the privilege of riding if I had been at all hopeful that you would not be a disruption. Clearly, I was right to assume you would cause trouble.”
“I didn’t cause any trouble.” She had, in all honesty, prevented a couple of men from completing their tasks in a timely manner, but she hadn’t been truly disruptive.
“That is not the report I received.” Mrs. Haddington’s mouth pursed in disapproval.
Who had reported that she had caused difficulties? One of the stable hands? Or— or Dermot? She had accepted his rejection with grace and swiftness. And he had gone to the trouble of following her after her first departure to make certain she was not upset. Why, after showing her such kindness, would he feel to then denounce her to their employer? It was cruel.
“I believe it would be best for you to stay away from the stables,” Mrs. Haddington said.
“But what of the children? Surely you do not mean for them to discontinue their riding lessons.”
Mrs. Haddington raised her chin and looked down her nose at Sophia. “One of the other servants can sit on a chair doing absolutely nothing for an hour. Any of the other servants could accomplish that.”
If the Haddingtons believed Sophia did so little, and performed her tasks so poorly, it was a wonder she still had a job. “I cause no disruption whatsoever during their lessons. As you said, I sit in a chair at a distance from the paddock. I do not even converse with the children during the lessons. There should be no problem with my—”
“Are you questioning my instructions?” A hardness had entered Mrs. Haddington’s expression. She was being more than overbearing in that moment; she was upset. Just what had she been told about Sophia’s time at the stables?
Mr. Haddington jumped into the brief pause in conversation. “I am certain Miss Sophia will be well behaved at the stables.”
He always called her Miss Sophia, with a disconcerting emphasis on her Christian name. Yet even when he used the formal version of her name, he made it sound unnervingly intimate.
Mrs. Haddington’s eyes narrowed, her gaze not wavering from Sophia in the least. “I think it would be best if you kept mostly to the nursery, Miss Pemberton. There is little reason for you to be wandering the estate.”
“I have never been prone to wandering,” Sophia said.
“Then this should be an easy adjustment for you.” Mrs. Haddington took up her sewing. “That is all. You may leave now.”
But she didn’t go immediately. “I am not entirely clear on my instructions.”
“You do not know what the word ‘leave’ means?” Mrs. Haddington didn’t look up from her sewing, but if her tone was any indication, her mouth twisted in a sneer.
“I do not know if you have ordered me confined to my bedchamber, or simply relieved me of my obligation to accompany the children to their riding lessons.”
“All I have asked
is that you stop making a nuisance of yourself.” Mrs. Haddington snipped a thread. “And in case I wasn’t clear, that includes leaving now without further argument.”
Sophia didn’t care to remain anyway. She gave a quick dip of her head and left. Footsteps followed her. She didn’t look back, having her suspicions about who followed.
“Miss Sophia.”
Her prediction was correct. Civility dictated that she pause and hear what her employer had to say— one of the reasons she did her best never to cross paths with him. “My sincerest apologies for my wife’s dictatorial attitude, as well as her restrictions.”
Sophia responded with a quick, simple, silent dip of her head. She took a step away, only to be stopped yet again by the unnerving sound of “Miss Sophia” on Mr. Haddington's lips.
“Now that you have every other afternoon to yourself while the children are at their lessons, you are welcome to avail yourself of my library. I am certain you can find something there of interest to you.”
He stepped closer. Not so near that she clearly had grounds to object, but near enough to make her excessively uncomfortable.
“You do like to read, do you not?” He put her in mind of a cat offering cheese to a mouse.
“I am not a great reader, I am afraid.” The lie was more than justified.
He came closer still. “You will never be one unless you put your mind to it, Miss Sophia.”
Rude or not, she needed to make good her escape. “A good evening to you, Mr. Haddington.”
She left as swiftly as she could without looking as though she was fleeing. Like a cat stalking a mouse, if he sensed she was even the slightest bit afraid of him, he would likely hunt her even more aggressively.
Only after dropping into her window seat once more did she realize the full extent of her predicament. If she kept to her bedchamber during the children’s afternoons at the stables, Mr. Haddington would know precisely where to find her. There would be no avoiding him, no escape. Mrs. Haddington had warned her not to wander the estate. But was it wandering if she was actually hiding?
She felt the frustration of her situation more acutely than usual. She needed a means of supporting herself. Were she to quit, she would have no recommendation to help her find another position. But staying meant enduring Mr. and Mrs. Haddington and their varied means of making her miserable. What she wouldn’t give for just one friend, one person she could confide in. But the only person she’d thought might be willing had turned down her offer without hesitation.
She was well and truly alone.
Miss Pemberton hadn’t been present for the Haddington urchins’ last three lessons. She was far too responsible to simply be shrugging off her duties, so Dermot was certain something had happened.
“Where’s Miss Pemberton?” he asked Ella.
“She doesn’t come with us anymore.” Ella’s smile was a bit too haughtily satisfied for Dermot’s peace of mind.
“I’d figured that much on m’ own. But why doesn’t she come?”
Ella shrugged. “I don’t concern myself with the servants.”
Dermot would wager Mrs. Haddington was behind Miss Pemberton’s glaring absences. The family was so convinced of their own superiority that they treated even others of their class as if they were the lowliest of petitioners.
“Where does she go instead?” he asked.
“I do not want to talk about Miss Pemberton. I do not care where—”
“You’d best decide to care, lass, or you’ll spend the rest of your lesson sitting on the grass next to the maid.”
The children had quickly learned that he was not one to make idle threats. “She goes to the garden or the orchard. Father offered her the use of his library, but she doesn’t go there, likely because she is not bright enough to be a reader.”
Dermot called over a stable hand. “Aiden, see to it Miss Haddington makes another circuit of the paddock at a walk. If she’s well behaved, she may try a slow trot after that. Only if she’s well behaved.”
“If she’s not?” Aiden asked.
Dermot gave Ella a pointed look as he answered Aiden’s question. “Then her lesson’ll be over.”
Ella nodded her understanding. Dermot left similar instructions with Will, who was overseeing Joseph’s lesson. His staff knew that if the Haddingtons voiced any objections, he’d take responsibility for the shortened lessons. The staff’s trust allowed him to trust them in return, and today, it gave him the freedom to go do what needed doing.
Garden or orchard? The weather was unusually cool. The shade would likely make the orchard a far less-comfortable choice. He’d try the garden first.
And why am I hying after this lass in the first place? She’d managed to wriggle her way into his thoughts and concerns these past months. He’d watched her struggle with ill-mannered and headstrong charges with determination and patience. He’d heard whispers of the monumental scolds Mrs. Haddington had subjected her to, though he’d never heard Miss Pemberton speak ill of her employer. The quiet governess had a quiet strength that, despite his feelings for her fellow countrymen, had earned her more than a small measure of Dermot’s respect.
Upon arriving in the garden, Dermot spotted her quickly. Her dark-blue dress contrasting against the light-green shrubbery gave her away. She sat on a bench near the star-shaped fountain, reading a book.
“Miss Ella doesn’t think you read.”
Miss Pemberton didn’t look up. “Let us hope her father believes the same thing.”
Mr. Haddington must have at least suspected she liked to read, else he’d not have offered her the use of his library. Of course, that likely meant enduring his company as well, and Dermot could easily understand the displeasure of that prospect.
“Are the children’s lessons finished early?” Miss Pemberton asked.
He shook his head.
She set her book on her lap. “Are they causing you difficulties?”
He shook his head again. The Haddington children were little terrors, but he knew how to handle them.
“Then what brings you here whilst they are at the paddock?” she asked.
“You.”
Her eyes pulled wide. “Me?”
“You’ve not been present for the last few lessons. You didn’t come Friday to visit the horses.” He’d fully expected her to.
“I find your surprise… surprising. I thought you would have been pleased.”
Now that was near about the oddest thing she could have said. “Why would I have been pleased?”
“Because your report was taken seriously.”
He dropped onto the bench beside her. “You’re not making a bit of sense, woman.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Haddington were told that I disrupted the work at the stables during my brief visit last week. Thus, I have been banned from returning, even for the children’s lessons.”
She took up her book once more. He slipped it quickly from her hands, which brought her gaze to him.
“You think I told ’em you were making trouble?”
“I cannot imagine our employers holding court with a lowly stable hand, and outside of your staff and I, you were the only other person at the stables that day.” She shrugged as if it were a natural conclusion, one that ought not surprise anyone.
He, however, was far from satisfied with that explanation. “If I’ve a rat amongst my staff, I’ll sniff him out and give him a piece of my mind.” The very idea that one of his workers might be slippin’ up to the house behind his back to make trouble for Miss Pemberton was insupportable.
“It wasn’t you, then?” The possibility had clearly never occurred to her.
“You weren’t any trouble that afternoon. You never are, I’d wager. And I’d certainly prefer having you accompany the children. They’re better behaved when you’re there.”
She looked away, shaking her head. “I doubt that.”
“They are. You don’t allow them to browbeat you, so they’re less horrible when you’re about
.”
She still looked doubtful. Dermot slid closer to her, leaning forward a bit in an attempt to catch her eye.
“I saw them with all of their previous governesses, so I know how awful they can be. You’ve made a difference, Miss Pemberton. You’ve helped.”
“At least someone has benefited by my being here,” she said quietly.
Her posture slipped, something he didn’t think he’d ever seen. She held herself so properly all the time. While he often scoffed at the English for their adherence to etiquette at all costs, he found he didn’t care for the sight of her abandoning the armor of civility. It felt too much like defeat.
“You don’t think anyone else is happy to have you here?”
She shrugged a shoulder as she stood. “The other servants more or less ignore my existence. Mrs. Haddington seems determined to punish me for imagined misdeeds.” She ran her fingers along the leaves of a bush as she walked past. “Your staff, it seems, find me a nuisance. I’m rather convinced you do as well. And Mr. Haddington— his feelings on the matter are best left unexplored.”
She’d taken a great deal too many tangents there to explore them all. He chose the one he felt most qualified to answer. “What makes you think I find you a nuisance?”
“What else am I to think? You hardly ever speak to me— this conversation is by far the most words I have ever heard you utter— and you were very, very clear in your desire that we not consider ourselves to be on friendly terms.”
“When have you ever known a man and a woman from such differing backgrounds to be friends?” Surely she understood the difficulty.
“I suspect we are really not so different, Dermot Buchanan.”
That was more true than she knew, more true than anyone knew. Had she discovered aspects of his history he’d kept hidden? He didn’t think so, yet she seemed so certain that they were on relatively equal footing. Had he given himself away without realizing?
“Why is it you want to be my friend?”
Sarah M. Eden British Isles Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology Book 15) Page 7
