by Cheryl Holt
“We can serve ourselves. I’m fine with that.”
He nodded to the servants, and they departed. Once the door closed, he stood and held out a chair for her. She walked over, and he dipped in and kissed her.
“I missed you last night,” he said. “When you didn’t join us for supper, I was bereft. After I fawned over you all day, it hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. I don’t believe you have many feelings, so I couldn’t possibly have hurt them.”
He snorted with amusement. “You wound me with your disregard, Miss Graves.”
With a theatrical flourish of his arm, he indicated she should sit, and she plopped down.
“Will you trust me to dish up a plate for you?” he asked. “Or are you convinced I’ll make all the wrong choices?”
“Go ahead and spoil me rotten.”
“Are you difficult to please?”
“Not usually.”
There was a buffet arranged behind them, and he snooped through the warmed pans. “There’s some of everything: ham, bacon, eggs, scones. What is your preference?”
“I intend to display a rare burst of gluttony, so I’ll have some of it all.”
He filled a plate to overflowing, then he filled one for himself. It was a large table that could have fit twenty people, but they were at a corner. He positioned himself next to her, near enough that their feet were touching.
They were alone, and it was very quiet. Suddenly, the encounter grew intimate, and she was nervous about eating in front of him. It seemed scandalous, as if she was about to take off her clothes or let down her hair.
He didn’t appear to notice any awkwardness. He began gobbling down his food as if he were a starving man who’d been offered a banquet. After a minute, he realized she hadn’t jumped in too, and he paused, his fork dangling in mid-air.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t you like the food? You can’t tell me that or my chef will be crushed.”
“It just occurred to me that I’m overwhelmed.”
“By what?”
“By you. By this house. By what’s happened to me.”
“Well, that’s understandable, isn’t it? This manor is incredible, you survived a disaster, and I am remarkable. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?”
She chuckled. “You’re humble too.”
“Yes,” he facetiously said, “humility practically oozes out of me.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You have to eat. I think it will be helpful if we immerse you in common routines, like meals and visiting and reading by the fire in the evenings. That way, you won’t feel as if the world has just ended.”
“You read by the fire in the evenings?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“I haven’t had a hearth lately, but yes, I love to read in the evenings.”
“I’m not the barbarian you suppose. Except for some of my wilder tendencies, that I am determined to conceal from you, I’m actually quite ordinary.”
“There’s nothing ordinary about you.”
He winked. “You might be right about that.”
He started in again, and she picked up her fork and started in too. He was correct that she had to settle her mind, to remember that she was hale and alive. She would successfully reorganize her life, and she refused to accept that she wouldn’t.
She cleaned her plate, and he cleaned his too, then he downed a second portion. She sipped her tea and watched him, and she was intrigued by the familiarity that had developed between them. They might have had breakfast together a thousand times prior.
He was such a charming person, and his relaxed manner made her want to linger in his delightful company forever. She recognized that he was drawing her into his web, that before too long, she’d likely be ensnared and eager to provide him with whatever he sought from her, but for the moment, she was simply content to revel by his side.
“Where is Jackson?” she asked. “I’m such an irresponsible sibling that I haven’t worried about him.”
“He’s out in the stables and learning to ride. My stablemaster is teaching him.”
Her jaw dropped in surprise. “I had no idea he didn’t know how.”
“He’s a city boy through and through, and his mother never had the funds to keep a carriage, let alone pay for equestrian lessons.” He frowned. “Has he told you much about her? He told me plenty, but I had to pry out every detail.”
“She was my father’s mistress for awhile—until he planted Jackson in her belly. His interest waned quickly after that.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate to imagine my father being that fickle, but apparently, he was.”
“My father was acquainted with yours.”
“Really? Were they cordial?”
“No. Sir Edmund was a…how shall I politely say this? A blowhard? A braggart?”
She cringed. “Yes, that sounds like Sir Edmund.”
“And my father, for all his moral failings, is a very frivolous man who likes to loaf, gamble, and chase loose women who always wind up falling madly in love with him. He and Sir Edmund wouldn’t have had anything in common.”
“I’m ashamed of Sir Edmund for how he treated Jackson’s mother.”
“It wasn’t your fault, so you needn’t be ashamed. You can rectify some of his mistakes by giving Jackson the life he deserves.”
“It’s been my goal ever since he showed up at my door.”
“What path are you envisioning for him?” he asked.
“I’d like him to finish his schooling, then attend university, but I’d have to find some good scholarships. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a financial bind, so I couldn’t afford to send him myself.”
“He’d be happier in the army.”
“Were you happy in the army?”
“Very happy—until I was nearly killed. That sort of incident can ruin a fellow’s perspective.”
“You seem like such a shirker to me. I can’t picture you mustering the energy to become a soldier.”
He raised a brow. “I possess many redeeming qualities, but I keep them hidden.”
“Yes, and it’s beyond me why you go out of your way to display bad habits.”
He snickered, looking lucky and satisfied with his choices, and he said, “I like Jackson.”
“So do I.”
“He should join the army, but as an officer. He’s a born leader, so you ought to buy him a commission.”
She tsked with irritation. “Yes, I’ll get working on that situation right away. I have so much money to throw around.”
“I might be able to pitch in. We’ll see how our relationship unfolds.”
“Meaning what?” She scowled ferociously. “It appears you’re offering me a salacious deal: I give you something you want, and you help my brother in return.”
It was impossible to embarrass or cow him. He simply grinned. “I’m renowned for my salacious deals.”
A warning bell clanged in her mind as she recalled Isabella Darling’s tales of his sordid tastes, of his interviewing for a second mistress, but she shoved the stories away. Miss Darling was a troublemaker, and when he was being kind and generous, she wouldn’t focus on lurid gossip that painted him in a horrendous light.
“How long will you let me stay here?” she asked.
“I haven’t decided. How long will it be before you begin to annoy me?”
“You’re such a pompous beast. I’m betting you grow irked in the next ten minutes. You like meek, docile females and I’m not one.”
“Who said I like meek, docile females?”
“You?”
“Yes, but since I met you, I’m broadening my horizons.”
His grin widened, and he was so full of himself. She rested her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand, and she tarried like that, filling her eyes with the sight of him. He was used to feminine adulation, and he dawdled as she ogled him.
“My life is a mess,” she ultimately said.
“I know, and I
was thinking, while you’re visiting, we should spend the time figuring out how to get you back on track. Starting with Parkhurst. You should be residing there, instead of in London by yourself. You don’t have the funds now, do you? To rebuild your shop?”
“No. I purchased it with a bequest from my father, so it’s all gone. I can return to Parkhurst, but it will require enormous fights with my relatives, which I can’t bear. Plus, the estate is almost bankrupt, so it doesn’t exactly represent a fiscal panacea.”
“Why would it be bankrupt? It’s a beautiful property, located in the heart of the kingdom.”
“There is never any money left at the end of the year.”
“Winston Webster is most likely robbing you blind when you’re not there to keep an eye on him.”
“Probably, but you walked in on us that day when I was quarreling with him. You saw how difficult it is to make him heed me.”
“I predict—if you evicted him and hired a competent manager—you’d be fine.”
“Maybe, but then, I’d have to become a spinsterish matron living quietly in the country. The notion is particularly depressing. I enjoyed being an independent female who gadded about in the city on her own terms.”
He smirked with disgust. “I’m sure you enjoyed it, but it was completely unnatural for you to carry on that way.”
She burst out laughing. “When you utter idiotic remarks like that, you could be my elderly grandfather. It’s the modern age, Hunter. Haven’t you heard? Women can thrive at all sorts of ventures.”
“Who told you such nonsense? Women should stay where the Good Lord placed them. If they don’t, it upsets the balance of the universe.”
She chortled merrily. “You are so ridiculous, but I like you anyway.”
He closed the distance between them, and he kissed her for a very long time. After a bit, he pulled her off her chair and onto his lap. He continued until her body was ablaze with desire, and she wanted things from him she couldn’t explain or define.
It definitely had her worrying about her sojourn at Marston Manor. If he commenced a determined seduction, she’d be putty in his hands and unable to save herself.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when their lips parted.
“Perfect.”
“I have an event scheduled for myself, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”
“What is it?”
“My land agent is giving me a tour of the estate to introduce me to the main tenant farmers.”
“That is such a marvelous idea, and I view you as such a scapegrace. I can’t believe you thought of it.”
“Would you accompany me? I would like your opinion about what we observe.”
“I would love to come with you. What about Jackson? Shall we invite him too?”
“He’s too busy. After his riding lesson, he’s boxing with my blacksmith.”
“Boxing!” she huffed. “I won’t have him learning to fight. Who decided he should?”
“Me. Who would you suppose? He’s lived his life around women, and he has to be taught a few tricks that none of you would consider to be valuable.”
“But…boxing! He shouldn’t be trained to brawl. It’s so unnecessary.”
“You’re wrong about that. He’s the type of fellow who will always be in the middle of the action. He needs to have different skills than you can provide.”
She scoffed with annoyance. “When did all this male bonding transpire?”
“Last night. We spent hours together—without you there to interrupt—and I questioned him relentlessly about his past and his goals. I have plans for him that would never have occurred to you.”
“It sounds as if you’ve devised a route I wouldn’t like. I could put my foot down and refuse to permit your interference.”
“I’ll ignore you. He’s almost an adult, and he should begin making his own choices, without clinging to your apron strings.”
“I barely know him,” she said, “and I don’t coddle him.”
“Yes, you do, but he’s managed so far without much help from those who should have furnished it, and I think he’s amazing. I can supply boons you can’t, so he’ll be my burden from this point on.”
She should have glowered and protested, but he was so confident that he was right. And he was correct that Jackson was nearly an adult. She’d had no role in his rearing, and he regularly alarmed her by espousing attitudes that were a tad frightening.
Hunter Stone was immersed in a man’s world in a manner she would never understand. Perhaps it would be beneficial to have a male in charge of him.
“I guess I can allow you to mold some of his rough edges,” she said.
He snorted. “You are such a milksop. Before we’re through, I will have ground you down so you give me whatever I demand.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“Let’s get going. My land agent has been cooling his heels for hours, waiting for us to be ready.”
“Oh, you should have told me! I could have hurried.”
“I don’t want you to hurry. I want you to loaf and rest.”
He stood and extended his hand, and she clasped hold. He lifted her to her feet, and their proximity set sparks to flying. They both sighed with pleasure.
“Will you answer a question for me?” she said.
“If I can.”
“Whose gown am I wearing? Your housemaids offered me several garments they claimed to have dug out of a trunk up in the attic.”
“This has only been my home for a few months, so I can’t imagine whose clothes they are.”
“They aren’t any of your mistresses, are they?” She was fairly certain they weren’t. With their long sleeves, high collars, and muted colors, they weren’t the kind a slattern would choose. Not if Isabella Darling was an example. “If you’ve attired me in a doxy’s castoffs, I might have to murder you in your sleep.”
“I don’t know whose they are. I swear.” He bent down and kissed her again. “I have many faults, but I try not to ever be an idiot.”
The comment made her smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have you ever brought any of your trollops here?”
“No. You’re the very first one.”
She blanched with offense and was about to scold him, but he was grinning again.
“You’re teasing me,” she said.
“Yes, and you are the sole person—male or female—I’ve ever brought with me. With your remark about your wardrobe, I’m remembering that I should buy you some things of your own. Jackson too. I can’t have the two of you traipsing around in rags, like beggars at the poorhouse.”
“You’re not buying me clothes. The items from the attic are fine for now. I don’t need anything else.”
“You’re wearing a grey gown, Hannah, and I hate it. You look dowdy and plain, and—with your green eyes—you’d be magnificent in a bright emerald. Or maybe a darker red. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“You can’t buy me clothes!” she insisted more sternly, but he shook his head with exasperation.
“I won’t listen to you when you’re being silly, and besides, what sane female would quarrel about receiving a new dress?”
“If you start showering me with expensive gifts, people will say it’s a reward because I’m loose with my favors.”
“Are you loose with them? Tell me you are! I just love a woman who can’t behave herself.”
“Would you be serious?”
“I’m serious as an apoplexy. I love wicked tarts. The worse the better.”
“And I am not one and never will be, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“My hopes are always up,” he said. “After you spend a bit of time with me, who can predict what we’ll discover about you?”
He linked their fingers, as if they were adolescent sweethearts, and he led her from the room, not caring if the affectionate gesture was witnessed by others. Apparently, she didn’t care either.
She couldn’t imagine no
t being close to him. She would revel with him, and if any of the servants grumbled, she didn’t have to pay attention. After all, once she departed Marston Manor, she’d never see any of them again.
She would relax and be pampered. She would have a luxurious holiday, and when it was over, she’d walk away without a single regret.
****
Jackson watched from the corral as Lord Marston rolled off with Hannah in his carriage.
Initially, he hadn’t liked Marston, having assumed he was merely a pompous roué, like Jackson’s father had been, like his mother’s paramours had been. But a few days earlier, he’d spied on Marston when he’d given Hannah a ride home. From how fondly Marston had been gazing at Hannah, Jackson was convinced he’d never hurt her.
Then and there, Jackson had decided to accumulate more information about Marston. He’d befriended one of Marston’s outriders, and two of his stable boys. They’d confirmed that he was a grand fellow: kind, patient, and loyal to a fault. He liked the ladies a little too much, but that was to be expected from a man of his station.
When the shop had burned, when Hannah had been stunned and bereft and incapable of determining a path forward, Jackson had fetched Marston to take charge of the situation. He had no qualms about doing it, but Marston would have to behave as Jackson planned.
Lord Marston was genuinely wealthy. Not bogus wealthy as his mother’s acquaintances had pretended to be. His servants had verified his financial status, and as Jackson’s mother had counselled, it was smart to glom onto a rich man.
Marston could fix Hannah’s problems, and in the process, he might assist Jackson too, but Hannah would come first. Marston could flirt with her, could tuck her away at his posh mansion in the country, but there would have to be promises made and promises kept. Otherwise, Marston would have to leave her alone, and Jackson had all sorts of ways to manipulate him.
He’d learned to protect the women in his life. For most of it, there had just been his mother. Now there was Hannah. And Rebecca too. The minute he could finagle Marston, he would ask if they could bring Rebecca to Marston Manor. Jackson would get her away from her mother and stepfather, then he’d be sure both his sisters were safe.
He’d use Lord Marston by coercing him to provide what they required, and the top-lofty oaf would never realize how slyly Jackson had obtained exactly what he wanted.