Kit’s eyebrow rose. “Will you be fit enough? The doctor said you only needed a few stitches but that you need to rest due to the concussion. Perhaps I should accompany her?”
“That would look suspicious. Why would you need to accompany her? I can at least say I wished to thank Rose for her seeing to my injuries.”
Kit paced in front of the fire. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have sent a missive to Dougray. He’s working in a mill not far from Patrick’s residence north of York. Dora told me that on the way down from Scotland, they stayed at an inn near Haxby for two nights—to rest, she said. I want Dougray to ask around and see if anyone saw them near Patrick’s house, or if Patrick came to the inn.”
A hammering head was stopping his brain from thinking as it normally did. “That was a brilliant idea. I should have done it the moment she arrived.”
“You taught me well. I remembered that thinking ahead saved us at the Battle of Sorauren. It was an old woman who almost brought our whole regiment down. If not for you she would have succeeded.”
“Sometimes not being able to read means I see things others don’t. An old woman that no one took notice of did something I did not expect, so I watched her. I saw her mentally taking note of the fort layout, etc., because that is what I do. I don’t write notes, I store what I see in my memory.”
Kit and Guy looked at each other, both lost in the gore of the day. It could have ended so much worse if not for Guy’s decision to lock the side gate into the stable, and post reinforcements there at the last minute.
Kit turned to leave. “I have work to do. If you need anything let me know.”
“I’m giving the doctor until morning and then I’m up. I’ll accompany Abigail back to Rose’s. Patrick arrives in three days, so we need to ensure all communications are stacked in order on my desk and I know them by heart.”
With that Kit left and Guy lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. Perhaps a short nap would be a good idea, his head did hurt.
* * *
—
Guy didn’t know what woke him but daylight was fading and the fire in the grate of his bedchamber had been stoked high. The scent of lilacs filled his nostrils and that’s when he noticed the door was ajar. Abigail stood at the end of the bed.
“I’m so sorry to wake you, but I wanted to see how you were.” She looked down at the book in her hands and said, “I won’t stay long as it’s probably very inappropriate to be in your room, but I also wanted to bring you something to read while you recuperated. Just as well I did, there are no books in your room.”
A mistake. He should remedy that before Patrick arrived.
She moved around the side of the large four-poster bed and placed the book on his side table. “It’s a copy of your favorite Daniel Defoe book, Robinson Crusoe. I remember you liked it.”
In that moment Guy thought of two things. One, Abigail had some idea he could not read, and two, he needed to know why it was so important for her to learn this fact. But she had forgotten that he’d fooled many people more intelligent and suspicious than her for many years. This was the same book she’d had the night before, Moll Flanders. He knew because of the tear on the top left corner of the binding.
He reached for the book, giving her a smile. “Thank you. I am feeling slightly better after a nap.” He laughed. “That makes me sound like a little boy.”
Chapter 9
Abigail wanted to say that she’d never seen a man look less like a boy but thought better of it. His nightshirt was open at the neck, revealing glimpses of sun-kissed neck and chest. She’d seen naked men before but the teasing glimpse of masculine flesh sent heat coursing through her body.
His fair hair was tousled, as if she’d just run her fingers through it—she wished she’d run her fingers through it. It was scandalous coming to his room but his mother was abed, the shock of his injury bringing on another headache, and Abigail’s time was running out.
The reminder of what she was doing at the estate for Patrick Neville doused the flames of longing. Abigail swallowed the distaste of duplicity. What would Guy do with the book he held in his hands and was studying?
“I thought you’d need something to keep you from going mad, because you are such a man of action. Your mother told me you make the worst patient.”
He smiled at her and her knees wobbled beneath her gown. He was handsome enough to make a nun swoon.
He reached out and placed the book on his bedside table. “That is very thoughtful of you, but I’m feeling so much better. However, you must have grabbed the wrong book, for this is the one you selected last night, Moll Flanders.”
Blast. She thought she’d found out what his secret was, that he could not read, but he was right, she had brought him Moll Flanders. How odd that his smile seemed to be one of triumph, as if he’d known it was a test. Come to think of it he’d barely even looked at the cover before stating it wasn’t Robinson Crusoe.
“Oh, how silly of me. I shall go and fetch the right book for you.”
“Don’t bother. With my head still thumping, I think I shall simply sleep and be ready for the day tomorrow. Brodie informs me that his mother has seen the orchids before, and you wish to talk to her about where they were found.”
Heat invaded her face because she understood Brodie had told Guy about their conversation. “It might take me months to find the orchids, the forest is very large. Rose could help me narrow down my search.”
“That’s true. I’ll accompany you because I should be able to guide you to wherever Rose recalls the orchids were.”
She stepped closer. “Are you sure that is a good idea, my lord? After today…What did happen today?” she asked softly. “Surely Brodie can show me. He told me that he also played in those woods.”
A flush raced under the skin of his handsome face. “I believe you have already guessed why. Rose told you that my father once tried to kill me. He hung me from that tree when I was four and ten. Reginald saved me just in time.” She watched him swallow. “Seeing it again after all this time brought the memory back. It won’t happen again.”
She could not help herself. She moved closer to the bed and covered his hand with her own. “Some of us know that not every parent is loving or caring.”
“Sounds as if you have firsthand knowledge of this fact.”
She nodded. “My mother left a lot to be desired.” More than a lot. She’d been cruel beyond words. Selling her daughter from the age of twelve. “We are both of an age and have been out in the wider world. We have seen the cruelty that many have not.” She stared into his wary eyes. “No child should bear the sins of the father or mother. There is no shame in having survived childhood horrors—if anything, it proves how strong children can be.”
“But some secrets should never be shared?” The question was more a statement. She suddenly let go of his hand. He was right. She didn’t want anyone to know her secrets, her horrors. Her shame was hers alone to bear. Yet she needed to know all his secrets to keep her secrets, and also to ensure Dora’s safety.
She felt like a poisonous spider trying to wrap a web about him.
She could not meet his eye. He was warning her to leave well enough alone, and while she wanted to with all her heart, she thought about everything that was at risk. Dora was all she had, and she could not risk losing her just because she was feeling sorry for a man who was wealthy enough, strong enough, and confident enough to look after his own affairs against a man like Patrick Neville. The desire washing through her at the sight of Guy in bed should not sway her either. He most likely wanted nothing more from her than to warm his bed but for a short time, and then he would forget all about her.
“I look forward to your company tomorrow, then. I promise not to mention your father again.”
His eyes bore into hers. “Thank you. I look forward to spending more time in your company, Miss Pinehurst. I find you rather intriguing.”
It wasn’t until she was walking back down the stairs
to the library that it occurred to her his words were not said seductively. Rather it sounded as if he suspected her of something. She swallowed back her fear. What would Patrick Neville do to her if the earl sent her packing? Worse, what would he do if she let slip that Patrick Neville was spying on his lordship?
She needed to come up with a plan and soon. A way to outwit Patrick and keep her past hidden.
She plastered a smile on her face as she reached the library. She did not worry about Dora suspecting anything, but Molly was like a bloodhound and could sniff out danger at ten paces.
So it was a surprise when she walked in to find Dora bent over a book and laughing with two young ladies. They all looked up when she entered. Dora jumped to her feet. “This is my sister, Abigail Pinehurst.” Abigail moved closer to Dora, who put her arm through Abigail’s and drew her closer. “Abigail, please meet Lady Margaret and Miss Platt. The ladies are cousins and Miss Platt is his lordship’s closest neighbor.”
Abigail curtseyed to the young ladies, not sure what to expect. She found most ladies of breeding could be standoffish with working women. After all, Dora and Abigail were not quite servants but not gentry either.
“Dora has been explaining about your amazing drawing talent and all the exciting places you have both traveled.” Miss Platt seemed genuinely interested. “Please sit, I would love to see some of your sketches. I love to draw, but I’m not particularly good at it. You are lucky to have a talent that allows you to have such adventures. I have never left Cambridgeshire.”
Lady Margaret spoke up. “You will soon, Emile. You will be coming to London with me for a season.”
Abigail marveled at the envy shining in Emile and Margaret’s eyes. They had no idea the price she had paid before earning this freedom. Even then it was hardly freedom. She had Lady Calthorpe to worry about. Without her support Abigail’s ability to keep earning a good living would be nonexistent. She relied on secrets remaining hidden, which Patrick Neville knew all too well.
“I’d be delighted to share my etchings with you if you have time. I suspect you did not visit the estate to chat with Dora and me though?” Why were they here?
Emile blushed while Margaret drew in a shaky breath. “We were out riding and thought to pay our respects to Lady Argyle and his lordship. We should be on our way. I had not realized it was so late, it will be dark soon.”
“Dora was just explaining that his lordship had an accident and is indisposed, and that his mother has taken to bed with another of her headaches. Dora was good enough to offer us refreshments before we take our leave.” Emile smiled.
Dora beamed at Abigail. It wasn’t often Dora got to chat with girls around her own age. “I was explaining that his lordship had been helping you look for the Ghost Orchid and tripped over a tree root and hit his head.”
Lady Margaret seemed very distressed. “No wonder his mother is so worried. She has lost Reginald and now this…His lordship needs to marry and beget an heir because he is the last in their line.”
“He has a cousin, does he not?” Abigail couldn’t help asking.
Emile nodded. “He does. Mr. Patrick Neville. Not a nice man, or so I overheard my father saying.”
“All the more reason his lordship should marry as soon as possible. Or so my father says. I guess that is why we came to visit. He’s hoping his lordship will look favorably on a match.”
Abigail swallowed down her envy. Any woman would be lucky to marry a man as nice and kind as Guy. The fact he was as handsome as sin was a very welcome bonus. “And what about you, Miss Platt?”
“Oh, I’m not looking for such a high-stepped marriage. No, it’s more suitable that Lady Margaret is given a chance to meet his lordship.”
Margaret squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Emile is the loveliest person I know. I think we should both have a chance and let’s hope his lordship likes one of us.”
“So, you both would consider a match with him?”
Lady Margaret looked at her as if she were mad. “You have met the man? Not only is he a war hero, he’s stunningly gorgeous, and above all else I’ve heard he is very kind and friendly. A woman could do much worse.”
Abigail had to agree. Much worse.
Miss Platt said, “Her ladyship has invited us to tea with his lordship tomorrow afternoon if he is up to it, and she is also organizing a dinner for some of the local gentry next week, when Mr. Neville is here. I believe she has already discussed things with my father.”
Dora clapped her hands. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we were to witness a budding romance while we are here. We should do something to help.”
Abigail felt sorry for Lady Margaret or Miss Platt. The way Guy had flirted with her on their outing, she was pretty sure he was not looking to marry anytime soon. Or maybe he was. Like many men of his social standing he would most likely keep a string of mistresses too. Abigail’s heart clenched. If she married she would expect her husband to honor his vows and love only her. Perhaps this is what Guy was talking about when he lamented his choices. He needed time to find a woman he wanted to marry, a woman he could love, but time was against him. He needed an heir.
Of the two young ladies, Lady Margaret struck Abigail as the one more suited for Guy. She was a lovely young woman not much older than Dora, but with more confidence than Emile. A countess would need confidence. Her chestnut hair held a lovely wave and her hazel eyes sparkled with kindness. A stab of envy engulfed Abigail. When she’d turned thirty years old it occurred to her that her chance of finding romance and love was fading away. Men tended to want younger females for marriage and breeding. As long as she saved hard it would not matter. She could look after herself, but when Dora married, and she hoped Dora did, she would be lonely—she would be alone.
Dora continued, completely caught up in the drama of it all. “You could offer drawing lessons to Miss Platt and Lady Margaret, which would give them an excuse to visit.” Three sets of eyes filled with romantic notions and hope turned her way.
“I shall ask her ladyship if she minds me using the library for lessons, and you would have to get your fathers to agree.” The three young ladies squealed in delight. “Only if her ladyship agrees,” she emphasized.
Dora raced to kiss her cheek. “You’re the best elder sister ever.”
The young ladies stood to take their leave. Lady Margaret was beaming. “Please send a note once you have Lady Argyle’s permission. Does three in the afternoon suit, perhaps every third day?”
Abigail nodded. She’d be back from looking for the orchid by lunchtime and she would help Dora in the library until the ladies arrived for a lesson. “Do you have parchment and charcoals?”
“I have plenty.” Emile’s face reddened. “As I said, I do so love to draw.”
“Then I shall send word as soon as I’ve had a chance to speak with her ladyship.”
As soon as the door closed after the ladies took their leave, Dora danced around the room. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we helped his lordship find a lovely wife? Both Emile and Margaret are so nice. I wouldn’t mind living here if one of them became his lordship’s wife.”
Abigail dropped the book she was cataloging. “Live here?”
She watched Dora’s face go a lovely shade of pink. “I simply mean, should we both decide to settle here. You said you almost had enough money for a small cottage of our own and I love it here—in Cambridgeshire.”
“We have only been here a couple days. It’s a bit too soon to form such an attachment. What has brought this on?”
Usually Dora enjoyed their nomadic life, not knowing where or when they would be sent on another commission.
“I’ll tell ya. A handsome face and sweet talker, that’s what.” Abigail watched Dora’s smile fade at Molly’s words as she entered the room. “I may be old, but I still see the things going on around me. That Mr. Hunter is paying you much too much attention.”
Abigail didn’t even need to ask if this was true; Dora’s stricken face told all.
“Well. Perhaps I need to have a word with Mr. Hunter.”
“Please don’t do that, Abigail. I should be embarrassed.”
“A man of his age and experience should not be sniffing around a young lady such as Dora.” Molly was like a lioness protecting her cub.
Abigail wanted to agree, but she watched Dora’s mouth firm and her eyes flash in anger. “I’m sure I have taught Dora to understand that handsome men do not always have honorable intentions.”
Dora’s chin stuck out even farther. “It takes more than a handsome face to turn my head. You need to have faith in me.”
“Oh, I have faith in you, just not in Mr. Hunter,” Abigail said. “We hardly know the man.”
Abigail and Molly faced Dora, both of them with arms crossed and concern etched on their faces.
Dora’s head snapped up and she glared at them. “While I appreciate your concern, neither of you need to worry. I’m old enough to know how to behave and to know my own mind.”
Abigail dropped her arms and walked toward her sister. “Oh, Dora. I know that. It’s just…Mr. Hunter is a very attractive man, he would turn any young woman’s head.”
“As you keep telling me I am not just ‘any young woman.’ Please allow me to grow up.” With that she sailed from the room, tears filling her eyes.
“Trouble. That man will be nothing but trouble. But don’t you fret, Abigail, I shall keep an eye on her.”
“Thank you, Molly. I will be in the forest for a good part of the day, so knowing you are here…”
Molly’s eyebrow lifted. “I should be giving you the same warning Dora got; but then, you’re more experienced with men. Do be careful of the earl though. I see the way he looks at you.”
This time it was Abigail’s turn to blush. “If you must know, Dora and I are embarking on matchmaking for Lady Margaret. I plan to offer her drawing lessons in the afternoon so she can spend more time at the estate. I’m sure her ladyship will approve. She wants her son married.”
Attracted to the Earl Page 8
