Less Than a Gentleman

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  He stepped toward her, his eyes narrowed. “We need to talk. Actually, I need to talk. You need to listen.”

  Was he angry? Why? She was the one with a legitimate complaint. He had said he would return in a few days, not a few weeks. She lifted her chin. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m not properly dressed.”

  His gaze swept down to her bare feet, then slowly inched back up. “If you’re so concerned with propriety, why were you wandering about the house in your nightclothes?”

  She blinked. “I . . . you must be mistaken.”

  A muscle rippled in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “It was a mistake, Caroline, for you to go to the library and rifle through the captain’s papers.”

  She gasped. How could he possibly know? “That—that’s ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous is your sister and Edward attempting the same thing.”

  How did he know? She stepped back. “No, that’s silly.”

  “Silly is hiding behind the curtains. The guard outside could have seen you.”

  She retreated another step. “How do you know all this?”

  “I know everything. I know you’re planning to spy on the redcoats. I know you flirted with that damned captain at dinner.” He advanced toward her again.

  “There’s no harm in a little . . . harmless flirtation.”

  He motioned to the table. “If it was so harmless, why do you feel obliged to barricade yourself in?”

  “A simple precaution in case he misinterprets my behavior.”

  Haversham’s eyes flashed with anger. “Hickman said you were almost in his lap. How do you expect him to interpret that?”

  “He’s exaggerating.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to make sense of it. “You talked to Hickman?”

  “No, but I know he plans to seduce you.”

  “How could you know that?”

  “I know everything!”

  “Well, hallelujah!” She raised her hands in the air. “Jehovah himself has visited me in all his glory. Will you please explain how you know everything?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I work in mysterious ways.”

  “Ha!” When she swatted a hand at his chest, he grabbed her wrist. “Let me go.” She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held fast.

  “No. Not until you swear to give up spying.”

  “I don’t answer to you. I don’t even know who you are. A butler? I highly doubt it. And you said you would be back in a few days, but it has taken more than two weeks. Why should I trust anything you say?”

  “Because I care about you, dammit!” He pulled her into his arms.

  She shoved against his chest, but he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He cared about her? Tears stung her eyes. Haversham had come back, and he cared about her.

  He cradled her head against his chest, and she felt the vibrations of his quickly pounding heart. Obviously, he was agitated. Because he cares about you. She leaned into him and let the warmth of his body seep into her. His arms encircled her like a sheltering cocoon, safe and protected.

  “Caroline.” He rubbed his chin against her brow. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” she whispered. His embrace was heaven. “My God.”

  “Are you referring to me?”

  She scoffed. “You arrogant—”

  “Go ahead. Call me a demented buffoon. I was a fool to think I could stay away from you.”

  “I was afraid I’d never see you again.” She blinked to keep from crying. “I was afraid you had joined the army.”

  “Would that be so terrible?”

  “Yes!” She pulled away from him, then grabbed the shawl off her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I don’t want to lose anyone else to the war.”

  “You won’t lose me.”

  With a silent groan, she wandered to the window. Roger had sworn he would come back, too. Since Haversham knew other soldiers in the area, he might already be engaged in some sort of military activity. She’d be a fool to set herself up for more heartache. “ ’Tis late. You should go.”

  “I will leave once we have reached an agreement.” He paced toward her. “I forbid you from spying.”

  “Forbid?”

  “Yes, and I expect you to obey.”

  She gave him a wry look. “Obey?”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it with an exasperated expression. “ ’Tis a shame that you cannot join the army. Then you would learn to follow orders.”

  She shrugged. That was highly doubtful.

  He eased closer to her. “Will you cease with your spying as a personal favor to me?”

  The entreating look he was giving her was clearly intended to melt her heart. She wasn’t about to let him know how well it worked. She smiled sweetly at him. “Will you cease with your bullying as a personal favor to me?”

  He winced. “I’m not a bully.”

  “Good. Then we have that settled. You may go.”

  His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “We have nothing settled.” He crossed his arms, frowning at her. “I cannot leave until you agree to stop spying.”

  “Then you will be here a long time.”

  “You are a trying woman, Miss Munro.”

  “I’m an independent woman. That sounds much better than the term spinster, don’t you think?”

  “Honestly, I’m amazed you haven’t been snatched up.”

  Likewise. She glanced at him. The rascal was too handsome for words.

  “Of course most husbands would expect a wife who could obey.”

  Her mouth twitched. “I’m not interested in most husbands.”

  His eyes glinted with determination as he studied her. “You said you were engaged once before? To a soldier who died at Brandywine?”

  She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’d rather not talk about him.”

  “Do you still mourn for him?”

  “This has nothing to do with Roger.”

  “Is he the reason you insist on risking your neck? Are you doing it out of love for him?”

  “ ’Tis not love!” With a groan, she propped her elbows on the windowsill and covered her face.

  “Then you don’t . . .”

  When Haversham paused, she wondered why she had blurted out the truth. Was it another case of her saying things that she shouldn’t? No, it was more than that. There was a part of her that yearned to share her darkest secrets with him. She had to know—would his feelings for her survive if he knew her worst sin?

  “If you don’t feel love for him,” he murmured, then he drew in a sharp breath. “Guilt.”

  She nodded, lowering her hands.

  “I understand guilt all too well.” He touched the ivory-inlaid handle of a knife wedged beneath his belt. “These are difficult times. We have to make terrible decisions, and then we have to live with—”

  “I killed him.” She closed her eyes briefly. There, she’d said it. Would Haversham leave and never come back?

  “Your . . . betrothed? I thought he died in battle.”

  “He did. But it was my fault.”

  “How? Did you personally bayonet the man?”

  “I might as well have.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She took a deep breath and paced across the room. “It was after the victories at Trenton and Princeton. Everyone was excited. We actually believed the war would be over soon.”

  “I remember.”

  “There was a young man in our village, Roger Dooley, who asked to court me. I told him . . .” It had seemed so inspired and patriotic at the time. How could she have been so foolishly irresponsible?

  “What?”

  She wandered toward the bed. “I told him I could only love a man who was willing to fight for freedom.”
She wrapped her arms around a bedpost and leaned against it. “Roger left the next day to join the army. Brandywine was his first battle. And his last.”

  Haversham grimaced, but remained silent.

  “You can imagine how his family reacted. They accused me of murdering their son. And they were right.” Hot tears burned her eyes. “If only I had kept my blasted mouth shut.”

  Haversham strode toward her. “You are not to blame. A man makes his own decisions in life.”

  She blinked to keep the tears at bay. “That’s what my brother, Fergus, said. He told the Dooleys in rather colorful language to leave me alone.”

  “Good.”

  “No. Everyone started gossiping about a feud between the Munros and the Dooleys. Roger’s brother picked a fight with Fergus, and Fergus broke his nose.”

  “I think I like your brother.”

  “I like him, too.” Her attempt at a smile crumbled into a sob, and a few tears rolled down her cheek. “The Dooleys were placing horrible notices about me in the local newspaper. My father told Fergus to ignore it, that it would pass, but Fergus disagreed, and they had a terrible argument. Father smashed a chair, he was so angry. Fergus ran off to join the frontier militia and hasn’t come back. He left because of me.”

  “Caroline.” Haversham pulled her into his arms.

  “I destroyed two families,” she whispered.

  “No.” He rubbed her back. “Your fiancé and your brother made their own decisions. You’re not responsible for them.”

  As much as she wanted to absolve herself of all guilt, she knew in her heart she was partly to blame. The burden would always be there, but it felt a little lighter for having shared it.

  And something miraculous was happening. Haversham knew her worst sin, and he hadn’t run away. He was still here. Defending her. Supporting her. His chest felt warm and strong. Dependable. Comfortable. It moved gently each time he breathed.

  She wiped her cheeks dry. “Father thought the Dooleys would calm down if I left. So I went to Charles Town to live with my sister.”

  He burrowed his nose in her hair and whispered in her ear, “Then you came to me.”

  She felt a prickling sensation shimmer down her arms. “I was afraid you would think ill of me.”

  “Never.” He nudged her hair back with his nose and kissed her behind the ear. “You’re a beautiful, kind, and clever woman.”

  He still cared for her. Her heart swelled. “Haversham.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Caroline.” He trailed kisses across her brow.

  Good Lord, this was the man she wanted. He incited such fierce emotions. She felt as strong as a conqueror, yet ached to surrender. She was powerful and vulnerable at the same time, hot and cold all at once. Her skin chilled with gooseflesh, yet a burst of heat shot from her chest down to her belly.

  He nibbled a path down her neck.

  “Haversham.” She shivered as his tongue tickled her. “For pity’s sake, I’m still calling you Haversham. Do you have a given name?”

  With a frown he stepped back. “Call me . . . Thomas.”

  “Thomas.” She sighed. “Please don’t become a soldier.”

  He winced. “I thought you could only love a man who is willing to fight for freedom.”

  “It sounds good in theory, but the reality is too frightening and painful.”

  “That’s how I feel about your spying.”

  “I have the right to risk my own neck.” She noticed for the first time he was in his stockings. “What happened to your shoes?”

  “They walked off.” His eyes twinkled as he stepped closer. “Shall we continue with our previous activity?”

  “How did you know what I was doing downstairs? If you were in the library, I would have seen you.”

  “I liked the position we were in before.” He pulled her shawl off and dropped it on the bed.

  “You’re ignoring me.”

  “On the contrary, you’re all I’m thinking about.” His arms encircled her waist.

  “You must have been hiding in the library.”

  “No.” He turned her so her back was nestled against his chest. “Ah, I like this.”

  His hands, splayed upon her belly, radiated heat through the thin cotton shift. He moved a hand toward her bosom and stopped with the fullness of her breast resting on his thumb.

  With a shiver, she glanced down. Her nipples had tightened, the hard buds straining against her cotton shift. Good Lord, she looked like a wanton woman!

  She lunged from his grasp, snatched her shawl from the bed, and covered herself. “I—I . . .” She searched her mind for something to say. I refuse to behave wantonly? I fear too much that I want to?

  She didn’t dare look at his face. Her cheeks burned. “I was . . . uncomfortable. It must have been the buttons on your coat.” Blast! What a stupid thing to say. He’d simply remove his coat. In fact, he might take her words as an invitation to disrobe completely.

  He smoothed a hand over the buttons on his jacket lapel, then curled his hand into a fist. “The devil take it, they’re flat. How could you feel them?”

  “Well, they’re . . . hard.”

  “Dammit, woman. You want to see something hard?”

  “There’s no need to growl. ’Twas naught but a wee—”

  “Button? I’ll show you—” He took a deep breath. “This is not the right time.” He strode to the table and yanked it away from the door.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes.” He reached for the door latch. “No more spying, Caroline. That’s an order.” He let himself out.

  An order? With a snort, she shoved the table back against the door.

  Thomas Haversham. It was highly aggravating that she knew so little about him, when he knew so much about her. How did he know what had transpired in the library? How did he know Captain Hickman’s intentions?

  As far as she knew, the redcoats didn’t know he existed. And the way he moved about in the dark in his stockings could only mean he intended to keep his existence a secret. Where was he going now? And what was he doing?

  Oh, she intended to keep spying, whether he liked it or not. And while she was exposing secrets, she would discover all there was to know about the mysterious, so-called butler, Thomas Haversham.

  She needed to know. For she was falling totally and irreparably in love with him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tuesday, September 26, 1780

  When the first rays of sun poured through her window, Caroline sat up in bed and discovered the first clue. Dusty footprints on her floor. Obviously, Thomas had walked on some filthy floors in his stocking feet. Odd. She couldn’t recall seeing a dirty floor in the house.

  She grabbed her clothes and followed the dusty trail out the door and down the hall. It stopped next to a wall twenty feet from the nursery door. Strange. Perhaps Thomas had removed his stockings and proceeded in bare feet. Had he ventured into the nursery?

  The children were just waking as she entered the nursery. “Happy birthday, Edward. Did a man come in here last night, the man who put out the fire in your bed?”

  Edward yawned. “No.”

  Charlotte rubbed her eyes. “You mean the ghost?”

  Edward glared at his sister. “Mama says there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  “Let’s dress, so we can go down for breakfast.” Caroline strolled into her sister’s room and dropped her clothes on the bed. “Good morning, Ginny.”

  Virginia groaned. “Morning, already?”

  “Yes. Did you convince Edward not to spy?”

  “Yes.” Virginia rolled out of bed. “I think so.”

  Charlotte dashed into the room and went behind the screen to use the chamber pot.

  Caroline pulled off her nightclothes and slipped into a fresh
shift. “What about you, Ginny?”

  Virginia glanced at the screen, signifying she didn’t want her daughter to hear too much. “I promise to be in bed where I belong every night.”

  “Good.” Caroline leaned against the bed to pull on her stockings. “I don’t know how, but we were observed. The butler knows everything.”

  “What? You mean Haver—?” Virginia paused when Charlotte emerged from the behind the screen and washed her hands in the china bowl. “You talked to him?” Virginia helped her daughter dress.

  Caroline’s cheeks grew warm as she tied the garters around her stockings. “He came to see me. Rather late.”

  Virginia handed Charlotte her shoes and stockings. “Sweeting, put these on in the other room.”

  Charlotte gave them a curious look. “What’s going on?”

  “I just need to talk to my sister.” Virginia escorted her daughter to the door, then hurried to the chamber pot behind the screen. “I thought Haversham was gone.”

  “So did I.” Caroline pulled a petticoat over her head and tied the tabs at her waist. “But he arrived at my bedchamber out of the blue.”

  “Why?” Virginia poured water from the pitcher into the china bowl to wash her hands.

  “He saw us in the library and ordered us not to spy anymore. Can you believe the gall of the man?”

  Virginia gave her an alarmed look. “How did he see us?”

  “I don’t know.” Caroline tugged a gown over her head. “But I mean to find out.”

  Virginia moved behind her and took hold of the laces. “He’s not a Loyalist, is he?”

  “No.” Caroline held on to the bedpost as her sister tightened the laces. “He knows Continental soldiers in the area and discovered the location of our father. He must be sympathetic to the cause.”

  “He may be more than sympathetic.” Virginia tied the laces.

  Caroline winced. Was it too late? Had she fallen for a soldier? “I have doubts that he was ever a butler.”

  “I agree.” Virginia slipped on one of Jane’s old lying-in gowns. “He’s a bit mysterious, and no doubt you find that intriguing, but I have to wonder if it is wise for you to see him.”