by CJ Archer
Susanna found Holt in the stables after breakfast. He stood with his back to her, facing the crates filled with jars of marmalades and succades. He couldn't have failed to hear her footsteps crunching on the gravel as she approached, but he didn't turn around.
She took a moment to admire his strong, straight back and the width of his shoulders, and the way his unruly hair brushed the nape of his neck. Her face heated at the memory of his lips on hers, the way he'd looked at her as if she was something precious. Her nerve endings sizzled and the embers of desire stirred.
She threw cold water on them before they could flare again. Last night had been a mistake. They both agreed. Today...today was going to be awkward.
"Are you ready to get to work, Mr. Holt?"
He nodded but didn't turn. "All these things," he said, indicating the crates, "you're trying to find a buyer for them?"
"Yes. I've sent letters to several shopkeepers in London but have had no reply as yet." The lack of response was frustrating. She'd written the introductory letters in her father's name and even mentioned Sir Francis Carew to legitimize themselves. The letters had been delivered almost two months ago. She was relying on selling the products to pay the servants' wages and buy more jars for the next batch. If she didn't receive an answer soon, all their savings would dry up.
"Not just any shopkeeper I hope," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Your products are rare, luxury items, particularly the succades. You want to sell them to the nobility and the wealthy. Most shops aren't frequented by their maids, only a select few. You want someone who specializes in the exotic and exclusive. Someone who attracts the right sort of shopper."
"And what do you know of selling orange marmalades and succades to the nobility, Mr. Holt?" Indeed, what did he know? From his confident tone, he was implying he knew much more than a simple country gardener ought.
He turned slowly, and she was struck by how tired he looked. Shadows rimmed his eyes and his usually smiling mouth was flat. "Nothing," he bit off. "I'm a fool." He pushed past her and she stood, swaying a little as the force of his bitter words struck her.
She stumbled after him. "I don't think you a fool." Her voice sounded weak, shaky, but he heard her.
He stopped and turned, shook his head, sending the blond locks tumbling over his forehead. "I know," he said, giving her one of his crooked smiles. It reassured her somewhat. "That was directed at myself."
She didn't ask for an explanation and she suspected she wouldn't have got one anyway. Somehow she knew he was referring to the previous night and their kiss. Fool. The word could easily describe her too.
They set to work in the walled garden under a cloudy sky, neither saying much as the morning wore on. Even with her back to him, Susanna knew precisely where Holt was and when his gaze landed on her.
As the hour of dinner approached, the heavy silence that hung between them was broken by the rapid clip clop of hooves on the gravel drive. Susanna and Holt both straightened at the same time, but he remained behind as she left the garden through the archway to investigate.
Jeffrey hailed her and dismounted. "Good morning, Cousin." His greeting was jovial but his expression was one of distaste as he took in her appearance. "You have dirt on your forehead again."
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
He sighed and shook his head. "You made it worse." If it were any other gentleman, she would expect him to wipe the dirt off, but not Jeffrey. A union between them may be illegal, yet laws could not stop a man desiring a woman. It had not stopped her first husband's brother from trying to kiss her every moment they were alone. But not Jeffrey. He had never shown the least interest in her. It was refreshing, and she had to admit it was the reason she tolerated his interference.
"What can I do for you, Jeffrey? Or is this a social visit?" It wouldn't be. Jeffrey never made purely social calls. Everything he did had a purpose, and that purpose was to further himself or his estate.
"I heard about your intruder and came to see if you were all right. I see that you are, and I'm relieved."
"We are all fine, thank you. It was very kind of you to check on us. But please, if you see Father, don't tell him. There's no need for him to be alarmed."
"If you wish, but I do think he should know. It's his right."
"It may be his right, but I think it's for the best not to worry him unnecessarily. He's not well."
"Is it unnecessary though, Susanna? What if the intruder returns? What if he resides in the house this very moment in one of your unoccupied chambers?"
"I saw him run away from the house with my own eyes!"
"What if he came back? Or had an accomplice who managed to enter the house another way? Perhaps I should go and search the place myself." He strode off.
She ran after him and caught his arm. "Don't be absurd, Jeffrey. Besides, my servants checked every nook thoroughly and found nothing and no one."
She let go and he flipped the edge of his cape back as if in protest at being manhandled. "Those relics can hardly walk up and down the stairs let alone see properly."
"My servants are perfectly able to search Stoneleigh and you know it."
"The gardener perhaps," he grumbled, looking over her head to the house.
"Speaking of Mr. Holt." She glanced toward the arch but couldn't see him. "He mentioned there is a stranger residing up at the Hall. I hope you don't mind me asking who he is and if you can trust him."
He flinched. "Of course you can trust him. I trust him and you trust me, don't you? Susanna, I'm deeply offended." He pressed a hand to his chest. His jerkin must have been padded there because he looked larger than usual. "Deeply."
"I'm sorry, Jeffrey, but he is the most obvious candidate since he couldn't possibly know the situation here at Stoneleigh."
"Who says he doesn't know?"
She frowned. "What have you told him?"
"Nothing, nothing." He tried to move past her but she blocked his way.
"Have you questioned him about that night?" she asked. "In your capacity as justice of the peace, I mean?"
"No need." He thrust a finger between his ruff and neck and scratched. "I was with him until late. We had business to discuss."
"Business? Interesting," she said lightly. "So the stranger is a man of trade?"
He sighed. "Dear Susanna, Mr. Monk is of good character. He won't harm you."
But would he climb through her window if he thought she had something to steal?
"You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that," she said.
His lips pressed together and she could see he was trying to decide if she mocked him or not. Then he looked past her.
"Ah, perhaps he can convince you that the house must be thoroughly searched."
She turned to see Walter Cowdrey riding toward them. As he dismounted, Holt emerged from the garden. Walter ignored him and joined Susanna and Jeffrey. Holt came closer, near enough to hear but still apart.
"Lady Lynden!" Walter sounded breathless. "I came as soon as I heard." He grasped her hand between both of his rough ones. "Are you all right?"
"She looks all right, doesn't she?" Jeffrey said.
"I'm well, Mr. Cowdrey, thank you. As you can see."
Walter's gaze raked down her body. A short distance away, Holt crossed his arms. Walter increased the pressure on her hand. "Yes," he said, coloring a little. "Yes, I do see. You look...lovely." He licked his lips and cleared his throat. His grip became almost unbearable.
She tugged her hand and he released her. "How did you hear about the intruder?" she asked.
"I've been seein' to personal matters in the village just now and everyone's talkin' about the intruder at Stoneleigh the night before last." His gaze shifted to Holt. "Your gardener told Milner and now everyone knows."
"I've already thanked Mr. Holt for making enquiries on my behalf. He's been most helpful in this endeavor."
Jeffrey snorted.
"I could
have made enquiries," Walter said. "It would be a pleasure and an honor."
His earnestness elicited another snort from Jeffrey.
"Thank you, Mr. Cowdrey, that's very kind," Susanna said.
"Next time, come to me. Understand? No need to involve the gardener."
"Let's hope there is no next time."
"Yes. Of course we hope that." Walter cleared his throat again. "The intruder hasn't come back?"
"No."
"But what about tonight? Then what?"
It was the same question that plagued Susanna and her servants. She dared a glance at Holt, but he was pretending to prune a hawthorn bush. By the way he snipped off the tips and not entire branches, she knew he wasn't concentrating on his task and was listening to the conversation instead.
"All the doors and windows are locked at night," she said. "And perhaps now that everyone in the village knows of the situation, the intruder won't dare come again."
"That don't sound like a good plan to me," Walter said, scratching his hair under his hat. "Think I'll stay tonight. Scare off anyone who might—"
"No!" The thought of having Walter in the next bedchamber made her skin clammy. "Mr. Cowdrey, please don't trouble yourself."
"No trouble. I insist." He gave her a closed mouth smile which was all he ever gave because he didn't like his crooked teeth.
"No, I insist," she said. "We are capable of taking care of ourselves at Stoneleigh."
He sniffed then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Your servants are old, Lady Lynden, they won't be much help."
"I have Mr. Holt."
Both Jeffrey and Walter looked to Holt at the same moment that he looked at them. Holt's expression remained bland as if he was completely disinterested.
"The gardener," Walter said flatly.
"You let him sleep in the house?" Jeffrey asked.
"Of course."
"Well he don't have to no more." Walter straightened to his full height. When he didn't stoop, he was actually quite tall. As tall as Holt, but not nearly as imposing. "Put him in the barn."
"He can't sleep in the barn," she said, "it's not weather tight."
"So?" He flicked dirt off her shoulder and his eyes softened. "This is why you need to marry again, Susanna," he murmured so that only she could hear. "You need protectin'."
"I've told you before, I'm not ready to remarry."
"But—"
"Gentlemen," Holt said. He sauntered over, smiling like an amiable, innocent fool. She didn't believe it for one moment. "No one tried to break in last night," he said. "I think we're all safe now."
"I'm stayin'," Walter said.
"No, Mr. Cowdrey, you are not," Susanna said.
"You don't know what you're sayin'." Walter went to take her hand again but she folded her arms. "It's best if I come round and—"
"She said no." Holt's voice cut through the air like a brutal axe blow.
Walter's nostrils flared and his top lip curled. "Shouldn't you be doin' somethin' useful instead of wastin' Lady Lynden's time and money?"
"Mr. Cowdrey, there is no need for you to stay," Susanna said before Holt poured gunpowder on the fire. "Now, if you gentlemen don't mind, I have work to do."
Holt and Walter glared at each other, but it was Jeffrey who made the first move. However it wasn't to capitulate and leave. "I'm going to search the house," he said, striding off.
Walter followed him. "I'll help."
"What!" she bellowed at their backs.
Jeffrey stopped suddenly and faced up to Walter who almost slammed into him. "I don't need help, Cowdrey. Susanna is my cousin, and it is my responsibility to protect her."
"She was your cousin's wife," Walter said, "and the responsibility for her falls on all of us who care for her."
"Yes, well, everyone with eyes can see why you care for her." With that, Jeffrey stormed off, his nose in the air.
Walter trailed behind him like a small child following his mother.
Holt did not go after the others, but she knew that she just had to ask and he would do it. His presence buoyed her.
"Enough!" she shouted. Both men stopped up ahead. "Leave. I do not like my household being disrupted, and I do not appreciate you coming here and taking over as if you own Stoneleigh."
As if you own me.
Walter was the first to capitulate. He trudged back, casting a fierce glare at Holt the entire time. Jeffrey took longer. He glanced at the house, at her, then Holt, and once more at the house before sighing.
"We only care about you," he said.
Walter took her hand again without warning. "Forgive me, my dear lady. I only wished to help."
"Thank you," she said, removing her hand. "If I need your help, I'll ask."
He looked somewhat blankly at her, and, as if her dismissal had finally sunk in, nodded slowly. "I offended you, m'lady. My apologies." Shoulders stooped, he plodded back to his horse.
"Wait."
His face brightened. "Yes?"
"My letters. Are you sure your man took them to London back in September?"
"Of course. I would have told you if he hadn't."
"I'm sorry. I'm not doubting him or you. It's just that I haven't heard from any of the recipients and I expected to by now."
"P'haps they're not interested." Walter mounted his horse and pointed his considerable chin at the walled garden. "P'haps quince marmalade is good enough for them." He pulled hard on the reins and rode off. Mud flicked up from the hooves and splattered her cheek.
Holt came up beside her. "All right?" he murmured.
She wiped off the mud with her sleeve and nodded. But she was not all right. She'd offended Walter and he didn't deserve it. Her constant rejections of his marriage offers must sting, and now it sounded like she didn't trust him. She would have to make it up to him somehow.
"What a tiresome man," Jeffrey said with a sigh.
"Don’t," Susanna said. "He doesn't deserve to be mocked."
Jeffrey merely shrugged. "Since I'm of little use here, I'll bid you good day. But do let me know if you change your mind about having a gentleman present in the house. I would be happy to stay the night and you know my motives are pure."
"I'm well aware what your motives are, Jeffrey. Thank you."
If he detected her sarcasm, he didn't show it. He bowed and walked off to his horse but Holt called after him. Jeffrey stopped and turned, frowning. Susanna, too, frowned. What was he up to?
"Yes?" Jeffrey asked, irritation dripping from the single word.
"Your stable lad told me you have spare materials left over from when you built your new barn. Lady Lynden is in need of some to build a structure around her orange trees."
Silence. Then, "And?"
"Can she have them?"
"Your gardener is bold, Susanna. I would shorten his leash if I were you, lest he bite."
It took seven beats of her heart before her anger was under control and she could trust herself to speak casually to him. "But you are not me, Jeffrey, and I do not treat my servants like dogs. Mr. Holt is also in a different situation than most in that I am not paying him. Indeed, he's not really a servant at all since he is doing me a favor and I him."
Jeffrey gave a short, derisive laugh.
"Well?" asked Holt. "Can she have the timber or not? She is your nearest relation after all."
"How do you know who my relations are?" Jeffrey snapped.
How indeed?
"Nearest in distance as far as I know," Holt said.
"That timber cost quite a lot."
"Not that you would want your cousin to reimburse you, I'm sure. After all, you are very considerate of her welfare."
Jeffrey's eyes narrowed and Susanna thought he might actually walk off without answering, but then, after much pursing of his lips, he said, "I will give you the timber, Susanna, if you do something for me in return."
She should have expected Jeffrey would not simply hand it over. "Go on."
"Let my man Monk help you build this structure."
Beside her, Holt went very still. "Why?"
"Why not? It will make your task easier." Jeffrey grinned, triumphant. Somehow he had just won, but Susanna didn't know what the contest had been about.
"I thought Mr. Monk was a man of trade, not a servant," she said.
Jeffrey shrugged. "He's working for me and will do as I direct. I am offering his services in exchange for my timber. I think that's fair since the expense is all mine. Don't you?"
"A moment ago you did not want to even give me the timber. Why the change of heart?"
He stiffened and blinked in surprise. "Susanna, my deepest apologies, I thought you understood why. I'm sorry for my rudeness earlier and I wish to make it up to you, that's all. Please don't be suspicious of my motives. They are innocent. As poor Phillip's widow, it's my duty and my honor to care for you. Please accept my offer."
There was not a hint of mocking in his tone and his face was all seriousness and concern. She felt contrite but not guilty. "Thank you, Jeffrey, but...do you trust this man Monk? He is very new to your acquaintance, isn't he?"
"I've known him a long time," he said as he moved off. "I'll send him down after dinner. Good day."
"Don't send him today," she said. "Mr. Holt has the afternoons off and I'll be heading into the village. Tomorrow morning will be better."
After a pause, Jeffrey said, "Very well. Tomorrow morning." He mounted and rode off.
"It must be almost time for dinner," she said, turning to Holt. She was surprised to see him looking at her. She thought he'd been watching Jeffrey leave.
He lifted his hand and skimmed her cheek with his thumb. She felt his touch all the way through to her bones where a sweet ache set up residence. "You missed a bit of mud," he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Holt. I appreciate everything you did today. I wish..." ...that I could kiss you and touch you and be held by you. "I wish I could pay you what you're worth."
His chuckle was low. "There are some who would say I'm not worth what you're already paying me." His smile slipped and he looked away.
Who could possibly think this handsome, active, and friendly man was worthless? She almost asked but didn't. The hard planes of his face warned her not to pry.
She walked off and beckoned him to follow. "Help me put the garden tools away. It's time to go inside."
Together they returned to the walled garden and silently packed the tools in the box. Holt picked it up and joined her at the archway. "Does Lord Lynden often have visitors to stay? People he's known before he inherited, I mean."
"Hardly ever. He has some cousins I believe, but if he has any friends, he's never introduced me to them. I think Jeffrey is trying to distance himself from his old life as much as possible."
"To make better, higher friends, you mean?"
She nodded and they walked to the barn. "He travels frequently to London where no doubt he tries very hard to come to the notice of the court."
"Tries and fails, I'd wager. Someone ought to tell him he's wasting his time. The court aren't likely to notice someone as slow-witted as Lynden"
"Really?" And how did he know that?
He lengthened his strides. "So I assume."
She waited for him while he carried the box of tools into the barn. When he rejoined her, they headed for the kitchen garden. "I'm driving into Sutton Grange later," she said. "There'll be room in the cart if you want to come."
"No, thank you. It's a nice day. I think I'll go for a walk."
She looked up at the sky. It was gray and threatened rain.
