“It’s all right. I cannot avoid these unpleasant matters forever. Pretending they don’t exist will not make them go away. I take it he is in the drawing room?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I will see him. We aren’t to be disturbed.”
David set off to meet his tenant, the sense of unease growing worse with every step. He had been surprised to discover that so many of their tenants had remained, given Wren’s neglect. If every last one of them had packed up and abandoned their cottages as well as their work, David wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. However, he didn’t know how close they might be to such a mass exodus. He supposed Mr. Stone was here to enlighten him.
He found the older man pacing near the windows overlooking the overgrown front lawn. He was nearly David’s height, and thick with the sort of brawn honed by manual labor. Work-roughened hands twisted a worn cap, which he must have removed upon entering the house. Without it, his head was as bald and shiny as a billiards ball, while his jowls were speckled with silver stubble.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Stone.”
Stone’s jaw clenched as he perused David from head to toe, nostrils flaring as if he took in a noxious odor. His clothing was stark black save his shirt, his plainest and least remarkable pieces. However, he was aware of how it looked for him to stand here, fresh from London in the first stare of fashion while the house and estate were in shambles around him.
“Didn’t think you’d see me. That butler of yours seemed to think you wouldn’t.”
David glanced to the console where a collection of decanters was neatly arranged, glad to see that one of them was half-full. Crossing to it, he lifted the lid on what his nose told him was a decent brandy.
“Caruthers simply wanted to ensure I had adequate time to hear your concerns. Drink?”
Stone scowled at the tumbler David offered him but accepted it anyway. When David gestured toward a chair in invitation, Stone opted to remain standing.
“I ain’t come here to exchange pleasantries.”
“Of course not. I understand you have some concerns, and I am here to listen.”
Stone scoffed and glared down into his brandy. “Concerns be puttin’ it mildly. I been up to this house every week for months askin’ to speak to Mr. Graham, but that bounder Wren always claimed he were too busy. Said he was the man to see about estate concerns and such.”
David bit back a curse, despite having already known what to expect. He could place the blame on Wren until he was blue in the face, but his father had been no better, wallowing in self-pity and drowning himself in drink. A man like Stone didn’t look as if he would appreciate a string of excuses from his previously absent landlord.
“Mr. Wren is no longer in my employ, and I am currently on the hunt for a new steward. In the meantime, I will manage estate matters myself, so you may bring your concerns straight to me. Caruthers will be informed to admit you when you call.”
Stone made a gruff sound of derision, swirling his brandy about his glass. He had yet to take a sip. “Sure, I can come and you’ll hear me out. But what’ll you actually do about any of it? You got thousands of acres of land what’s been worked to death, herds of cattle we can’t feed through winter, and enclosures that won’t keep them penned long enough for it to matter. Most our cottages have started fallin’ down around our ears, and it’s a wonder the lot of us haven’t said to hell with it and taken ourselves off elsewhere.”
“Why haven’t you? I am genuinely curious, and might I add baffled, that you haven’t done just that.”
“‘Cause before he was a pitiful drunken heap, your father was a good man. Most of us been here our entire lives, have raised our children here. A few decided to try their luck, but the rest of us …”
David raised an eyebrow when Stone trailed off, giving him a measured look. “Yes?”
“The rest of us is content to give you a chance to prove you’re more than a pretty London fop in a nice suit.”
The insult struck as intended, but David bit his tongue around a retort. He would be within his rights to throw Stone out on his ear, but figured the man could be excused for being in a dudgeon. Because of the mismanagement of the estate, Stone and his family would see a bleak Christmas along with an understandable amount of worry over what the coming spring might have in store. David’s pride was of no consequence here.
“By God, this is good.” Stone had finally sampled the brandy, and his expression of scorn had been replaced by one of shock. The brandy was probably the finest thing the man had ever tasted in his life.
“There’s plenty more. Have as much as you like.”
Stone seemed content to take him up on the offer, downing what was left in a single swallow before going to the console to help himself to more. David’s lips twitched in amusement, but he wiped the coming smile away. Time to get down to business.
“Caruthers tells me you’ve visited often in the past several months. He made no mention of any other tenants, so I take it you speak for the others as well as yourself and your own family.”
“I do,” he grunted out after another healthy swallow of brandy. “S’pose I ought to tell you … some think we ought to refuse to work or pay the Christmas rents till our demands are met. I haven’t cast my lot with them as of yet, but am thinking that all depends on whether you do more than fix your mouth to spout off empty promises.”
David set his empty tumbler aside and considered the clear, underlying threat in Stone’s words. Tenants who wouldn’t pay rents was one matter, but to refuse to work would cripple the last leg David had to stand on, and Stone knew it. So did all the other hands, who he suspected would abandon their work with nothing but a word from Stone.
“We have our own to think of, after all,” Stone went on. “I’ve five mouths to feed myself … six come summer.”
“Congratulations. I, too, have a household to think of, which is why I’m sure you know the loss of labor would be untenable. Without you all, the problems you just outlined cannot be fixed, and the farm cannot sustain enough to support even my family, let alone yours.”
Stone folded his arms over his chest, the glass balanced in the crook of his elbow. “What do you reckon we do about it, then?”
“Well,” David said slowly, tapping his chin as he measured his words. This was new territory for him, and he had no idea what he was doing. He did, however, understand what was right and fair, and what his tenants were owed. “What if we were to come to an agreement? If I forgo collection of the rents until Lady Day, I imagine that would help ease the burden. Perhaps, enough that you might help me make right the matters that have gone neglected for far too long.”
“Forgo the … you’d really do that?” Stone’s jaw had gone slack, and he was looking at David as if he’d suddenly grown a cock in the center of his face.
“I would, if you give your word that you will convince the other hands not to abandon their work. In exchange, I will also ensure that the materials for repair of cottages are made available at the earliest opportunity. That will take me time, mind, but you have my word that it will be done.”
“Wren gave me his word lots of times.”
“I’m not Wren, nor am I my father. Look, Mr. Stone, I realize you have no reason to trust me. After I came of age, I left Lancashire without a look back and did very little to secure my inheritance. I was unaware of Wren’s perfidy, but that is no excuse. I do not expect you to forgive me the oversight, or to trust me right off. But you did say you were content to give me a chance, so that is all I’m asking for now—a chance to make things right. No rents until Lady Day, the materials to mend your homes, and an eventual improvement on all the rest—the enclosures, the tools and the mill. I do not yet know everything that needs to be accomplished, but I haven’t been idle since my return. I am taking stock of what needs doing. I could certainly use your help convincing the other tenants, and … well, advice you may have on any matter that I am ignorant to, I would be glad to hear
it. It does nothing for my pride to admit that I am woefully unprepared to assume my role, and without a steward I am quite at a loss. I’d wager I could learn a lot from a man like you.”
Stone looked as if he would faint, but quickly recovered with a shake of his head. “I … me, sir?”
Now, he was ‘sir’, instead of ‘a London fop in a nice suit.’ They were making progress.
“Yes, you. In fact, if you would return in two days’ time, I would like to tour the fields. My father mentioned in one of his journals that that forest bordering the south pasture might make for prime farmland once slashed and burned. I’d like your opinion on the matter.”
Stone looked as if he might smile, but then smoothed his face back to inscrutability. “I been tellin’ Wren we should slash and burn that land for over a year. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Well, I’m listening. What do you say, Stone? Neither of us has anything to lose, and I’ll admit to being desperate here.”
The man surprised David by extending a hand toward him with a hint of a grin. “You’ve got yourself a bargain, Mr. Graham.”
Taking Stone’s hand, he winced at the bear-like grip, but gave it a firm shake. “Then I will see you again on Thursday, as early as is convenient for you.”
“Of course, sir.”
“My pleasure. Oh, and Stone? See Caruthers on your way out and inform him that I want you to have a bottle of that brandy … to share with your sons. I’m sure they’ll like it as much as you seemed to.”
Stone was really smiling now, slapping his cap onto his bald pate as he backed toward the door. Their stores were nearly depleted, but it was less than David would be willing to part for to get the man on his side.
“That’ll be fine, thank you, Mr. Graham.”
The moment Stone was gone, David began to pace, hands clasped behind his back. He had just made a promise he couldn’t afford to keep. Refusing to take up Christmas rents meant making life harder on his mother and sisters. Perhaps it wouldn’t be unbearable, but they had already been through so much. The last thing he wanted was to inform them that they would live like paupers for half a year at the very least, while he worked to get the farm profitable again. Even if he sold every valuable thing he owned—which he fully intended to do—there were still unpaid debts to be considered as well as the collapsing roof of the east wing. Yet, he couldn’t go on collecting rents from tenants who had not been given what they were owed. The people who worked his land had families to care for, just like him, and he refused to sacrifice them to keep his own family comfortable. It seemed one would have to suffer for the care of the other.
Nothing needs to be sacrificed if you take Mrs. Hurst up on her offer.
With a frustrated grunt, he pushed a shaking hand through his hair. There seemed to be no other choice. Until the farm began generating enough income, David had only one thing to fall back on. Serving as some woman’s courtesan was far easier in London, where he’d had his pick of wealthy ladies outbidding one another to take him as a lover. But here in Lancashire there was only Mrs. Hurst, and the money she was willing to pay would be enough to keep them afloat until spring—perhaps longer if he could earn the bonus she was offering.
Of course, that bonus was contingent upon him successfully getting her with child.
The longer he thought on it, the more David began to see her offer as the perfect solution to his problem. Mrs. Hurst wanted a family, and he wanted to save his. By mutual agreement, they could both get what they wanted with no one the wiser.
Pleasing women had always been his forte, something he enjoyed, even. If planting a baby in her womb improved Mrs. Hurst’s life in some way, turned that solemn expression into a contented one … well, what could be so wrong about that?
He practically ran to his study, keen to make the decision final before he could change his mind. Short of the sky suddenly opening up to rain thousands of pounds upon him, David had no other recourse.
Unlocking the safe where he had stashed the contract, he carried it to the desk and signed it, hands shaking as he waited for the ink to dry. He steadied it long enough to pen a short note to Mrs. Hurst.
A smidgen of relief stole through him once both had been sent off, and the tension clenching his joints and muscles eased. Upon delivery of the contract, he would be owed a substantial payment from Mrs. Hurst up front. He would put that toward the most necessary of needs around the house, and the rest would go into supplies to repair the tenants’ cottages. It was enough for now; he would earn the rest.
And he would eventually convince himself that walking away from a woman pregnant with his child was necessary to the well-being of everyone and everything he cared about.
Two nights later, David was ushered down the darkened corridors of Regina Hurst’s house by her massive footman. He had spent the entire day on edge, despite having the distraction of hours in Stone’s company. In fact, he should be tired after a long day of riding and taking note of the improvements and changes he would begin implementing in the coming months. However, his exhaustion had lasted as long as it took to bathe and change clothes before sending for the carriage. All the way here his mind had run in a hundred different directions.
This was unprecedented. He had never been nervous to meet with a client, nor had he suffered any anxiety about taking one to bed for the first time. But, even his limited interaction with her had told David that Mrs. Hurst would be unlike any woman he’d ever serviced. She had made it clear that his charm and easy smiles would have no effect on her.
But then, those weren’t the only tools in his arsenal. David smiled at Powell’s broad back as he thought of getting the lovely Regina Hurst naked and spread out on a bed. He would have weeks—at least—to discover all the treasures hidden beneath her stiff bombazine; to discover the weight of her breasts in his hands and learn the contours of her waist and hips. His cock began to stir at the thought of spreading her legs to find curls the same vibrant hue as the strands on her head. Would she be a quiet lover, muffling the sounds of her pleasure behind pinched, quivering lips? Or, would she scream and cry out her release, hips bucking and body writhing? His smile had widened by the time they reached the door to what he assumed must be the lady’s bedroom.
When Powell turned to face him with a dark scowl, David quickly wiped his grin away. “She is expecting me, I presume? Shall I just go in?”
Powell’s fists clenched as he glared at David, jaw working as if he chewed a mouthful of pebbles. When he finally spoke, it was with a cold precision that prickled David’s spine.
“I’ll be standing right outside this door until you leave. If she calls for me, I’m coming in and you will suffer an unfortunate accident resulting in the separation of your head from your shoulders.”
David’s hand went up to his throat before he could control the gesture, and for a split second he wondered if it might not be too late to back out of this arrangement. He had never been subjected to such a thing in his life. A bloody footman standing guard outside the door? And just why the hell would Mrs. Hurst have cause to call out for her servant while she was in bed with him? If David did his job well—which he always did, thank you very much—it was his name she’d be screaming, not Powell’s.
But, he remembered the footman’s protective stance when he had first come to meet Mrs. Hurst. There was also the concern and care Powell had conveyed when asking David to consider her offer. The man obviously wanted to be assured he wouldn’t do his mistress harm, and since he was a virtual stranger David could hardly fault him for that.
“I can assure you, your lady is in the best of hands.”
Powell gave a stiff nod and then rapped on the door three times before stepping aside. David took that as his cue to enter. He found the room dark save for the fire in the hearth and a solitary lamp near the shadow of a large tester bed. He made out the outlines of more furniture, but couldn’t see much beyond the circle of yellow light illuminating the figure standing near the bed.
And suddenly, David didn’t want to see anything else, for he had laid eyes on his new client and he very much liked what he saw. Curiously, there was nothing titillating about her attire, which consisted of a heavy dressing gown—one that likely covered a white nightgown or chemise like the countless others he’d seen. And yet, she made a most alluring sight. The severe knot of hair he remembered from their first meeting was gone, and the coppery mass fell in a thick braid over one shoulder. The cinch of the robe’s belt around her waist offered a tantalizing preview of what was hidden underneath. Her face was as pale and luminous as the moon, her eyebrows bright slashes of red over the dark orbits of her eyes.
“Mr. Graham. Thank you for accepting my offer. You cannot know what this means to me.”
David wanted to approach, pull her against him and ease the stiffness from her back with a kiss. He could melt her with a single touch of his lips, and he knew it. Still, he held himself in check. There was something unnatural about her rigidity, as if she were using stillness as a means by which to keep herself grounded and present. The wide set to her eyes told him she wasn’t ready to be touched.
“There are no thanks needed. While I will obviously benefit from the arrangement, I truly want to help you.”
She dipped her head in a nod but refused to look at him. “I take it you received the bank draft I sent after signing the contract … your first payment?”
“I did.”
David remained where he stood, sensing there was more. Despite the dim lighting, he noted the twitch of her lips as if she wrestled over her words.
“Before we begin, I have a few guidelines I’d like you to observe.”
He raised his eyebrows at that, and not for the first time he found himself at a loss when it came to Mrs. Regina Hurst. It wasn’t uncommon for a new client to have a few limits, though with the women David had serviced those had been few and far between. Mrs. Hurst’s tone led him to believe he would be dealing with something grave. In fact, she sounded as if she anticipated facing the hangman’s noose rather than a night in bed with her courtesan.
Taming of the Rake (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 4) Page 8