House of Devon
Tammy Andresen
Amanda Mariel
Copyright © 2020 by Tammy Andresen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A Touch of Temptation
House of Devon
Chapter One
Mrs. Abigail Frank sat at the window, watching the deluge of rain that fell from the roof, three stories up. So much water was collecting that the runoff was like a sheet by the time it hit the ground outside the kitchen window. Not that she could see as much as hear its pounding force. At near midnight and with heavy clouds, beyond the window was an impenetrable shade of black.
She sighed, letting her thoughts wander. Rainy nights were good for reflection, especially when the rain was so loud, one couldn’t sleep. She considered her name again. She’d always assumed she’d be a Missus So and So, she’d just never thought it would be this way.
As the daughter of a vicar, she’d believed that she’d marry a good man of an upstanding family, have several children, live a full life. She twirled the end of her loose braid, her dark brown hair twisting about her finger. Instead, the Missus in front her name was a courtesy title of respect because of her status as housekeeper in the Duke of Devon’s home.
It was an excellent position and she was extremely fortunate to have been granted such a place in the Devon household. But the work was hard and the days long, and she should, at this very moment, be sleeping rather than contemplating life and her future. Or rather, what she was beginning to believe was a lack thereof…
She stood from the chair she’d been occupying next to the stove and made her way to the window. Because the kitchen was on the ground floor near the back of the house, the window was only a foot or so above the ground, and she watched as a river of water poured by the stone foundation, making its way toward the back door. What a miserable night.
That’s when she noticed the lamp light in the barn, its soft glow permeating the inky sky. She narrowed her gaze. The old stablemaster had hurt his leg and hadn’t been working for nigh on a fortnight. The grooms generally finished by eight and took themselves to bed. No one should be in the barn now.
Her mouth twisted into a frown, as she stared at the bright spot for nearly a minute. What should she do? Wake the butler? Reeves was an excellent servant but crotchety about his sleep. She’d catch guff all day tomorrow if she woke him now.
Her father had been the same way before his death. In many ways, Reeves had taken up the mantle of father figure in her life when her own had passed. Of course, Reeves was far more dependable. He likely didn’t have a mountain of hidden debt like Vicar Frank had had. Debts that had left Abigail and her sister, Daisy, destitute if not for the Duke of Devon’s intervention.
His Grace had brought them both in as maids, but Abigail’s education and work ethic had made her ideal for the role of housekeeper when the former one had retired. And Abigail was proud to have taken up such a lofty position at the age of two and twenty. But still. The last few months she’d begun to wonder if this was all her life would be.
She pushed those thoughts aside and straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t wake Reeves or any of the other staff. Instead, she’d go out there herself and see what sort of vagabond had infiltrated their barn. It was likely one of the harmless beggars from the village and she knew them all.
Abigail packed a hunk of cured meat, a few slices of cheese, some bread, and a large kitchen knife. She hoped to bribe the person with food to leave the Duke’s property. If that failed, she’d have the knife…
With a plan in place, she grabbed a large wrap that she always hung by the entrance in the scullery and placed it over her head and about her shoulders. Then she slipped her feet into an overlarge pair of clogs and opened the door.
Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped out into the wet, cold night and raced for the barn. The ground was slippery and she almost tripped, but just managed to keep her feet. Water hammered her shawl and leaked down the front of her dressing robe and into her clogs. She shivered with cold as she hurried faster.
When she finally reached the barn, she grabbed the large metal ring and tugged the door open, eager to be in the dry protection of the barn. The door gave a loud squeak and belatedly, Abigail realized that she was announcing her presence with all the subtly of a pack of yapping dogs.
Stepping inside, the lamp she’d seen glowed brightly, lighting the barn and the man who stood in front of the woodstove.
Broad shoulders were what she noticed first, that and his height. Uncommonly tall, he looked large even in the vast ceilings of the barn. He’d shed his coat, revealing thick arms and a thin waist. His breeches were rather fitted and his rear was… Abigail gulped. Well-formed. Powerful thighs tapered down to shiny black boots. Her eyes skimmed back up his body, noting the mane of wild blond hair that swept carelessly back over his collar. This was no vagabond.
“So,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re the welcoming committee.”
She pressed her lips together. “Who am I welcoming exactly?”
He glanced over his shoulder and she caught sight of his profile. Square jaw and full lips, she gasped in a breath. He heard the sound and quirked a grin. “Rex Ableman, at your service.”
Telling her heartbeat to cease thrumming, she drew in a slow steady breath. She was the housekeeper in a duke’s home. Why did he seem to have the upper hand? “That tells me almost nothing that I actually need to know. Why are you in His Grace’s barn at midnight in the middle of a storm?”
He turned to her then, pivoting in a way that was effortless in its prowess. Gads the man was built like a god. “What’s in the basket?”
She looked down at the wicker handles still in her hand and a large gush of water fell onto the lid of the basket, having collected on her wrap. With a sigh, she set the container down and unwrapped the wool from her head, shaking it out onto the straw. She’d not allow this man the upper hand and the first step was making him wait. She slowly pulled the thick fabric back over her shoulders, tucking the edges around the waist of her housecoat. “I asked you a question first.”
Rex drew in a long breath as he stared at the beauty in front of him. Damn. This must be the duchess. Or perhaps one of Devon’s daughters? How old was the man? His face was so serious, it was difficult to tell. He studied the woman in front of him. Thick, chocolate-brown hair was braided over one shoulder, loose curls having escaped the braid and now framing her face. They seemed to accentuate her large, dark eyes, he couldn’t quite tell the color tonight, but he could see her high cheekbones, small, straight nose and full, pink lips that were currently set into a rather deep frown. That should have deterred him, but somehow, it didn’t. What was it about a disapproving woman that was so damned attractive? “So you did.” He cleared his throat, stepping closer.
She stepped back, hitting the door with her back, causing a loud thud. Then she snatched up the basket and flipped open the lid, her hand searching the inside. When she brought it back out, she held a large chef’s knife in her hand and she pointed the blade at him. “Stay back!”
He couldn’t help it, that made him smile. She was not a short woman, but she wasn’t tall either, and even in the thick folds of her house coat, he knew she wasn’t large. He, on the other hand, was both tall and strong an
d even with that knife, he could easily overtake her. “Apologies. I did not mean to frighten you.” He held up both his hands as one of the stallions gave a nervous whinny. “I am the temporary stablemaster while Mr. Fredrickson recovers. I’ve come as a favor to His Grace.”
She dropped the knife to her side, her shoulders drooping. “Oh. Of course. I’m so sorry. He didn’t mention and then…” Then she raised the knife back up. Not fully extended as it had been before but partially. “He would have mentioned this to me.”
He took a small step closer. “We only came to an agreement today. I have two mares about to come into season. We’ve decided to breed them to a few of his stallions and also have me oversee his horses and mine throughout the process since Mr. Fredrickson is injured. Ankle, wasn’t it?”
She gave a tentative nod, the knife slipping down a bit again. He always liked a woman with a bit of fire. And this one certainly had that. He was slowly drawing nearer, if only to make sure she didn’t lunge at him and try to cut him open. “I would have been here before nightfall but this storm rolled in and delayed my arrival.”
Truth be told, Devon was doing him a favor. Granted the man would get a great deal in return. Rex had two mares of excellent quality and they would become the base of his breeding program. He was so close to launching his own equestrian facility. He had the land and the horses. Now he needed the funds to build the barns and other outbuildings essential for his success.
That is where the Duke of Devon came in. The man had several prize studs in his stables. Rex would breed both mares, Devon keeping the top pick of the two foals. In exchange, Devon had not only waived the stud fee, but he was paying Rex enough to build his barn when Rex’s time here was finished. Everyone was getting something from this deal. “I doubt you’ll want to wake him, but he’ll most certainly confirm my story in the morning.” He took another small step forward, peering into the basket. He caught sight of the cheese and his mouth began to salivate. He’d fed his horses and stabled them when they’d arrived at half past ten but his own stomach had been growling for hours. “Now, may I ask again, what’s in the basket?”
She looked down then, color filling her cheeks which only reminded him how lovely she was. The shade of pink made him think of summer flowers with soft, velvety petals. “Oh. It’s cheese and meat. I thought you might be a vagabond I could bribe—” She stopped, the pink blooming into a deeper shade near red. “Apologies.”
He gave her a smile. “Since it means I shall eat tonight, rather than going hungry, I’d like to thank you for mistaking me as a ne’er-do-well.” He reached out and gently took the basket from her hands. Her skin was a beautiful shade of ivory but as his fingers brushed hers, they were a great deal rougher than he’d expected. “May I ask who you are?”
Her eyes widened. This close, they looked near black, but he could catch little flecks of gold in them as she looked up at him. Delightful. “I am Abigail Frank. Housekeeper for the Duke and Duchess of Devon.”
Housekeeper? Now that was a different situation entirely and one that rather pleased him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Abigail Frank.”
He reached out his hand, but she looked down, giving his extended arm a weary glare. “I should go. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then she opened the door again and slipped back out into the rain.
Rex stepped up to the door as well and watched her slip and slide back to the kitchen entrance. She most certainly would be seeing him again in the morning.
Chapter Two
In the bright morning sun, Abigail stood in front of the Duke of Devon, her hands subtly twisting together. It didn’t matter how many times she spoke with His Grace, he still made her nervous. Even now, lounging behind his desk, he looked severe and imposing.
Perhaps it was the massive, gleaming mahogany desk, or the matching panels that surrounded the walls. Or mayhap it was the large pained windows that looked out on the rain-soaked garden. But most likely, it was the man’s formidable appearance. A stern expression always pulled at his face while his dark hair came down straight across his forehead.
“So you’re asking me if I did, in fact, hire a Rex Ableman to run my stables?” Was his tone disapproving or had she imagined the sound?
She looked down at her hands. “Yes, Your Grace. I suppose I thought if you had hired a new man, you would have informed the staff. I was worried. That’s all.”
“You’re right, of course. A gaffe on my part. I should have told you but I did, in fact, hire him.” Then the man sat forward in his chair giving her a long stare. She wasn’t imagining the disapproval in his eyes now. They glittered with his discontent and she shifted her feet under her skirts. “But why did you go out there alone to face an unknown person? You could have been hurt.”
She nibbled the inside of her cheek. “Reeves doesn’t like to be woken and—”
“Abigail,” his voice was sharp. “Wake me if you must, but don’t go out into the night alone like that again. We have plenty of other staff who are more suited to take the risk. I didn’t save you from the streets to have you die in my barn.”
Heat flooded her face. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies. I only wanted to protect your home. Your family.” Her sister, Daisy, was now tutor to the duke and duchesses’s two small children. One boy, age six, and a girl of four.
“I know you meant well but you’re rather slight and far too attractive to be confronting men on your own. If Mr. Ableman was a man of less character—”
A throat cleared somewhere behind Abigail. She turned her head to see a hand on the partially open door. Reeves pushed it wider, stepping into the room. “Your Grace,” he cleared his throat again, giving Abigail a sidelong glance, “Mr. Ableman has come up from the barn as you requested.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Whether because she was about to see the handsome devil again or because he’d overheard the conversation, she couldn’t say. But she turned as he entered behind Reeves.
And her breath stopped in her chest. If he’d been handsome at night, he was even more so now, his eyes a dark, piercing shade of blue, his skin holding a touch of color from the spring sun. He glanced at her, his eyes sparkling as they crinkled in a smile. “We meet again.’”
“So we do,” she answered, casting her gaze to the floor. It was too difficult to look directly at the man. A shiver had begun low in her belly.
Devon stood too, reaching across the desk to shake hands with Ableman. “Good day, Mr. Ableman. Glad you could make it on such short notice.”
“As am I,” Ableman answered. He stood next to her so she could almost feel the heat coming off his skin. She turned a bit toward him and caught his scent. Leather, wood, and straw mixed with a masculine musk all his own that sent tingles sliding through her limbs. “And I was very thankful to your housekeeper who brought me a snack after a long journey.”
“A snack?” His Grace grunted. “Explain.”
Dear lord, all she’d done the past twelve hours was blush. Half the night, she lay in bed with heat radiating from her body as she remembered her first meeting with this man.
“I thought I might be able to tempt whoever was in the barn out with a bribe.”
His Grace crossed his arms. “Never again, Abigail. Do you understand me?”
He’d used her first name in front of Mr. Ableman. She must really be in trouble. “Yes, Your Grace.” She dipped into a curtsey, wishing her cheeks would cease flaming with heat.
He paused for a moment and then gave a single jerk of affirmation with his chin. “You may go, Mrs. Franks.”
With a quick glance at Mr. Ableman’s profile, she turned and headed for the door. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more out of sorts. Tonight, she must try and get some rest. Between His Grace’s set down and Mr. Ableman’s presence, she was a blushing, stuttering fool. This man was going to be staying with them for several weeks it would seem. She needed to cease turning red in his presence.
Rex watched her leave, disappointmen
t making his chest tight. She was His Grace’s employee but he’d had the distinct urge to wrap his arm about her shoulders as the duke had lectured her. He couldn’t ever remember having the urge to protect a woman so. Once the door clicked closed, he turned back to his new employer to find the duke intently watching him.
“Your Grace,” he gave a nod of his head, standing a bit straighter.
The duke gave him a rare smile. “Mr. Ableman.”
They stared at each other for a moment before the duke finally gestured for Rex to sit.
He did as the other man suggested, sliding into a rich leather chair. “You wanted to see me?”
The man took his chair as well, looking no less imposing. “I did. I wanted to greet you, but I see you received a welcome to the property already.”
“A lovely one, to be certain.” He shifted, wondering where this line of questioning led. He knew the duke was married but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t interested in his servants. That protective need rose in him again.
But the duke relaxed back in his chair. “Abigail is a lovely woman. Bright, hardworking, attractive. If her situation had been different, she would never have ended up here. She’d likely already be married to a man of means.”
Rex shifted. Somehow, he didn’t like the idea of her married either. What had gotten into him? “She’s feisty. Perhaps marriage wouldn’t have suited her.”
The duke grimaced. “Plenty of women who are…feisty…are happily married.”
They were getting nowhere. “What led her here?”
The duke rubbed his forehead, which seemed out of character. Rex leaned forward. “Mrs. Franks’s father was also a horseflesh enthusiast. She grew up around horses and tracks. If you need anything, you’d best ask her rather than Reeves. She’ll understand.”
House of Devon Page 1