He ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve managed to channel most of the water out the back, but Mr. Compton located another leak today, and I’d like to wait for the ground to dry before proceeding again.” His jaw ticked a few times. “Crawford…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to burden you with any of this.”
And she’d rather not know of it but… “Is that not what friends do? Share one another other’s burdens?”
He slid a sideways glance at her. “Why would any lady wish to know of such manly pursuits?”
Why indeed? “You do me a disservice. You do all of womankind a disservice. If the mine fails, then it is the women who remain to pick up the pieces. The women who will raise fatherless sons and daughters.”
“And if women are raising fatherless sons and daughters, it will be on my conscience.”
“I did not intend to shame you.”
“I know.” He shook his head and then forced a smile. “I came because…” He blinked a few times. “I suppose because I missed your face.”
Nothing he could have said would have surprised her more. Because she had missed his face, too, and other parts as well. And she’d only been annoyed with him for waiting to show up in her life again for all of three long days.
And all of this ought to bother her a great deal.
But he’d said he missed her.
Gabriel had not meant to tell her that he missed her. But he’d craved her essence in hopes that it would drown out the turmoil he faced daily now at that blasted mine.
He’d stayed away intentionally, expecting his attraction to her would fade from his memory. He’d been utterly wrong.
Instead of feeling less of her pull each day, he’d thought of her more. He’d fought and won the battle to steer clear of her home for two afternoons.
He’d lost the battle today.
“Would you care for some tea?” She rose her brows, and it dawned on him that this was the first time he’d seen Olivia Redfield concern herself with the manners that came with genteel living.
She charmed him either way. “I would love some tea, if it isn’t any trouble.”
Olivia barely began to rise from her chair when the door opened, and her maid stepped in. “I’ll bring some right in, Miss Redfield.” She gave an awkward nod in his direction. “My Lord.”
Olivia dropped back into her chair and shuffled a few papers. “I was writing a letter to Louella. And then this evening, I planned on reading the last few chapters of Mary Shelly’s book. Have you read it? Frankenstein. I can only read it in the daytime, or when Mary is nearby to keep me from becoming jumpy. And yet the book is about so much more than the monster.”
He had read the book. Not anything he’d expect a lady to read.
He should know better where Olivia was concerned.
“I was most pleased to obtain one of the original five hundred copies printed.” He didn’t mean to sound boastful, but he’d considered it quite a feat. “Tell me, if it is not about a monster, and death and horror, then what is it about?”
“It is a warning. Not against progress but the motivation behind it.” She met his gaze, animated by the topic, and her left eye wavered in a distinctly different direction than her right, which seemed focused upon him.
And it struck him then that she didn’t often meet his gaze for more than a second or two.
“Progress is wonderful. It lessens the workload for some, and in medicine, can hopefully come to save numerous people’s lives. But it must be undertaken for the right reasons. Not for greed, or for fame, or evil. When it is managed for the good, it is good, but when done for the wrong purposes, it can result in something horrible.”
“Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Indeed.”
He asked her a few questions about passages she’d read that caused her to reason through the book thusly, and then he showed her a few of his own favorites. They continued right on talking after Olivia’s maid had delivered the tea and sandwiches and left. When he glanced out the window, he was surprised to see the sunlight glowing orange and purples and blues, already low on the horizon.
Olivia raised her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to go on so,” she apologized, but he was just as guilty.
“I’m the one who has imposed.” The friendly comradeship they’d shared over the last hour turned into something less comfortable. Less comfortable but no less a result of the attraction between them.
But he’d promised himself he’d not make any further physical advances toward her.
When he rose, she awkwardly pushed her own chair back and followed suit. “You have not imposed.” And she smiled at him. “Friends cannot impose upon one another.”
He longed to reach out and touch the wayward hair that fell along the curve of her cheek. In the soft light coming from the window, her hair seemed to glow a golden color and her eyes reflected all the violets of the twilight sky.
And she met his gaze boldly. Unafraid and unashamed.
He swallowed hard. “Goodnight, Olivia.” At his backward step, she blinked and then shuttered her gaze once again.
“Goodnight, Gabriel.” He hated that she dropped her gaze to the floor. But if he were to take even one step toward her, he’d likely ruin everything.
He’d nearly ruined their friendship in the water. He’d nearly ruined her.
And it had been exquisite but... he was in no position to offer promises… or even hint at any.
Already, Stanton would likely call him out for what he’d done.
“Don’t stay too late at Smith’s tomorrow. In fact, why don’t I collect you around noon? We’ll go on another picnic.”
She glanced up from the floor and tilted her head. “Why, Gabriel?”
He knew what she asked. And damn his eyes, he could never give her the answer she sought...
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
And yet still, she nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
With a wave, he made his own way out of the small house on the edge of her father’s property.
Later that night, as he laid on the small mattress provided for him in the hunter’s cottage at Ashton Acres, he considered the opinions she’d stated about Mary Shelly’s book.
And then an icy cold seemed to flow through his veins.
Was Stanton’s mine to become his very own Frankenstein? He hoped not. Gabriel was already making enough of a mess here in Misty Brooke.
Chapter 11
A Hole in the Hill
“I’d like to see the mine,” Olivia surprised Gabriel by saying after climbing up and settling herself onto the high-perched bench of the shiny red vehicle he’d borrowed once again for the afternoon.
Ah, the cursed mine!
Another leak had broken through the back end, and they’d had to evacuate for the afternoon. They’d managed to stem the flow, but the water needed to drain off.
“Now?” He’d offered to take her before, and she’d declined.
“I… want to be able to see it. Perhaps then I can think of it as simply a mine and not…” He waited but she didn’t finish her statement.
Had she been going to call it a curse? He supposed this afternoon would be as good a time as any, especially with the workers having all been sent home early.
Good Lord but Crawford had been vexed when he’d heard of yet another delay.
“Unless you had somewhere else in mind. Not swimming,” she added.
He grimaced. “Your wish is my command.” He flicked the ribbons and then turned the horses in the opposite direction. He explained about the leaks, the postponements, and the frayed tempers. “But it should be relatively quiet now.”
She held herself stiffly. And whereas before she’d grasped his arm for security, today she held tightly to the edge of the bench.
Perhaps for the best.
And this was another day he could satisfy himself that Smith would not be issuing her a formal proposal. “You are still not considering marr
ying him, are you?” He needn’t explain who he referred to. It was possible she understood him as well as he understood her. Most of the time anyhow. There were all those other things about her that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Like what she was thinking when that faraway look came into her eyes.
Her genuine feelings about living alone on the edge of her father’s property.
And how she could ever imagine she’d be happy married to a man who would likely keep her large with child and worn down from the care of them—all the while with no assistance in feeding and cleaning and meeting her husband’s other needs…
He could hardly bear such a thought.
Everything within him protested at the idea of her turning out like the first Mrs. Smith.
“I haven’t had reason to contemplate it much lately.” And then she turned to stare at him in that curious way she did. “Do you think Mr. Smith will give up on the idea?
He glanced sideways, skimming his gaze from the top of her head, past her delicate features, not to even mention her brilliant eyes, to her chest, the inward curve of her waist and then back to her face again.
“Most doubtful, Miss Redfield,” he said, which drew a sullen frown. “Did you think you could merely absent yourself a few days and he’d set his heart on somebody else?”
“This has nothing to do with his heart,” she inserted.
Assaulted by the memory of her body pressed against his, he gave her an honest answer. “You are likely correct on that point.”
He did not glance over this time but assumed she was either blushing profusely or rolling her eyes at him.
They both sat, lost in their own thoughts, as he drove for nearly a mile and then turned onto a more rugged but recently maintained dirt road.
“How far is it?” she finally asked into the silence.
“A mile and a half but it’s all uphill.” The road became narrow and steep in a few sections. Despite driving it dozens of times since coming to Misty Brooke, he was determined to be extra cautious with her for a passenger.
“I feel sometimes as though it’s loomed over me for most of my life. Of course, I don’t believe that my eye is a curse, but I have wondered sometimes if I’ve been cursed by the mine.”
He didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, and so he simply focused on avoiding the ruts in the road and staying away from the drop off that was quite steep at times.
“I never got an inkling as to my father’s belief until Will died. William Elwood Harlan Redfield, my parents’ pride and joy. He barely made it to the age of eight. He was a monster of a child, but he was our brother. My parents were never the same after his death.”
She hadn’t been so forthcoming about any of this before, so Gabriel remained silent. She was in an odd mood this morning, almost as though she needed to tell him, tell anyone her thoughts.
“Our parents withdrew from us… from life. It seemed as though Louella and I had ceased to exist for them, along with our brother. And then one day, my mother directed Mary to pack my belongings.”
“How old were you when your brother died?”
“I was nearly ten and seven. I was supposed to be the one watching out for him. He was always a sickly child but had been feeling better that spring, so Louella and I were allowed to take him outside. He ended up falling into the water and never recovered from the chill. Father blamed me. I should have been watching him closer—”
He was beginning to grasp where her narrative was leading.
“You cannot have had anything to do with his death. If he took ill, you could have done nothing to make him well.”
“It was shortly after William’s death that my father began restoring the dower house, where I live. I know it makes no sense at all. I don’t believe in curses or other such nonsense. But… I can never be certain.”
Gabriel drew the horses to a halt and then turned to face her. “Look at me.” He reached out and folded her hands between his much larger ones. She stared down for a moment before tilting up her chin and meeting his gaze full on.
He never failed to be affected by her eyes. In the morning sun, the color reminded him of a sparkling amethyst. Her left eye held particularly steady, wavering only slightly.
“There is no curse. There is only poor engineering, bad decisions, and sometimes plain and simple bad luck. You are simply a young woman who isn’t exactly the same as everyone else. And that is a good thing—a wonderful thing.” He shook his head, always taken aback by her utter lack of conceit. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize how beautiful you are.”
She swallowed hard and then bit her bottom lip.
He couldn’t resist. One small kiss. It would not go too far. It could not, as they were sitting on a narrow road and the horses would soon be restless.
She sighed the sweetest sound as he claimed her.
All his focus homed in on the soft flesh beneath his mouth and the fragile hands grasped in his, as those were the only two points of contact between them.
How was it that her breath, mingled with his, tasted so familiar, and yet so perfect? And he savored her all the more knowing he’d likely never taste her again.
She tilted her head, parting her lips, and Gabriel swept his tongue inside.
“Gabriel.” He barely made out her whisper.
Sweet torment.
He removed one of his hands from hers and reached up to caress her cheek, and then reluctantly ended the kiss.
He would someday be considered a saint for not attempting to take this further. “Absolutely beautiful,” he whispered huskily.
She stared at him, a million questions lurking behind his favorite eyes in the world. And his answers were all wrong. She’d torture him if she spoke them aloud.
He forced himself to drag his gaze back to the road and lifted the ribbons once again.
What was he doing? What had he been thinking?
As he drove, he could not help but recall the conversation he’d had with Stanton just before the wedding. Miss Redfield isn’t like other ladies. In addition to the fact that my fiancée dotes on her sister, keep in mind that the young woman has been isolated from Society. She’s the daughter of a viscount but has no prospects. If you dallied with her, she might build… expectations that you are unable to fill.
Are you warning me off? Gabriel remembered his brash dismissal of his friend’s advice. And what had Stanton replied in response?
Damn straight I am.
He ought to have heeded Stanton’s warning.
Olivia noticed a change in Gabriel immediately after he kissed her. Her dear friend, the man who’d called her beautiful and touched her so tenderly only moments before, had suddenly been replaced with a cold and distant stranger. She did not imagine it. The very air between them turned brittle and cold.
Neither spoke until he pulled the horses to a halt at the mine. “It doesn’t look like much, does it?” She made an attempt to lure him back to her.
Two imposingly hefty gentlemen stood outside the boarded-up opening that protruded from what seemed like nothing more than a mound against the hill. Large metal contraptions with wheels were parked around in an orderly fashion, and she could hear the sound of trickling water in the distance.
“The work takes place inside,” Gabriel answered in a stilted voice. “Can you excuse me a moment?” And then he strode away from her to discuss something with the men who appeared to be standing guard.
Olivia shivered but decided to explore on her own.
The ground was uneven, and as she approached the mine itself, the dirt was damp and then outright mud. At least she’d worn proper footwear today.
She glanced toward Gabriel again.
He’d regretted kissing her. One moment, she’d been wrapped in the cocoon of his embrace, and the next, she’d been… alone. More alone than she’d thought possible.
Had she done something wrong? Or did his change in demeanor have something to do with the mine?
Or
the curse?
She chastised herself. There is no curse.
As she watched him speak with the men, he gestured toward the opening, pulled back a few boards, and all of them disappeared into the dark cave.
This structure was nothing more than a manmade project. It had nothing to do with a curse, hex, or anything remotely supernatural.
And yet men had died for it. The lure of the gold seemed more powerful than life itself.
A gust of wind swept up the hillside, causing her to grasp hold of her bonnet and dress. Had Gabriel wanted her to follow them?
He hadn’t said anything.
She glanced from side to side and another tremor swept through her. She would take a quick peek through the opening. They probably hadn’t gone very far.
“Gabriel?” she called tentatively as she picked her way through the mud.
No answer met her, so she peeked into the dank cavern. Voices echoed through the rocks and although she could make out their words rather clearly, the darkness wrapped around her eerily.
“The duke said he didn’t care if the workers were swimming in mud. Said he wanted to see movement up here first thing in the morning.”
“Did he come inside? Did you show him what we’re dealing with?” She could easily tell Gabriel’s voice apart from the others. He spoke in a commanding tone that he’d never used with her.
She’d thought she knew him. He’d shared his concerns with her, his fears…
“He wouldn’t come in, My Lord,” the other man answered. “Just marched around all angry like, how he usually does.”
“Blasted fool.” And more muffled curses followed in Gabriel’s voice.
Olivia stepped to the side so that some daylight might shine in, and what she saw seemed unimpressive at best.
Dirt, rocks, and wood. No goblins, ghosts, or curses in sight.
The temperature was cooler in here though, and it felt damp and smelled musty. She’d intended to try to follow Gabriel, but her limbs refused to move any farther inside.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 9