He shook his head and smiled wryly. “Just like that.”
“No, not just like that.” Monica gripped her teacup so hard the porcelain dug into her finger. She turned to Mrs. Drake. Her eyes were wide with fear as they darted from her to Thomas and back again. “Mrs. Drake, all I’m saying is try not to worry before the need arises. Nothing is written in stone as yet. Nothing. Until such a time as anything needs to change, I want you and Mr. Drake to go about your business as usual. You have my promise nothing will happen overnight.”
The skin at Mrs. Drake’s throat shifted as she swallowed. “So I can tell Mr. Drake for the time being we can continue to live here?”
Monica smiled. “For the time being and beyond.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little, but it hurt to see such fretfulness in Mrs. Drake’s eyes. When Monica woke that morning, she’d thought she could deliver reassurance to the tenants in such a manner that it would reflect the determination in her heart. She glanced at Thomas. What she didn’t expect was Thomas to undermine her authority so succinctly in front of his peers. When they were alone, she would have no choice but to make it clear his obstinate attitude had to stop. Immediately.
She took another long drink of tea and placed the cup on the table beside her before rising to her feet. “Thomas and I won’t keep you any longer. We have lots of people to see, as you can appreciate.”
Mrs. Drake stood and slowly, Thomas followed suit. The tense atmosphere pressed down on Monica’s chest like a lead weight. As difficult as she thought the day would be, reassuring the tenants grew considerably harder by the second, and this was only the first house of several she wanted to visit.
“I promise to be back with further news as soon as I know it.” She ruffled young Timothy’s hair and approached Mrs. Drake, taking her hands. “Please try not to worry. Know that I will do my best to keep things just the way they are.”
Mrs. Drake nodded and managed a small smile.
Releasing her hands, Monica glanced at Thomas and he stared straight back, his eyes dark and his face a mask to what he might be thinking. She made for the door, opened it, and walked along the short pathway with her head held high, but her heart thundering. So many people relied on her and Jane to do the right thing, to keep them in their homes and jobs. The pressure to deliver was immense and the solution still so vague in her heart and mind.
She patted Wilson’s neck and climbed into the phaeton, purposely looking across the adjacent field rather than at the cottage. The thud of Thomas’s boots on the packed dirt path announced his approach and Monica held herself stiff against the sway of the carriage as he came aboard.
With a grunt and a slap of the reins, they jolted forward once more.
Monica’s mind whirled as the way to broach the subject of his impertinence eluded her. Thomas was a strong man, determined and hardworking, and he silently demanded respect from those around him. He might well be a servant, but his brooding good looks and affable personality meant he exuded an inner confidence and authority that few dared to challenge.
If Monica was honest . . . those few included her. She inhaled. The memory of their kiss yesterday still lingered on her lips. Thomas’s passion pulled her to him on a sexual level above and beyond anything she’d ever known. It was as though her life in Bath amongst struggling actors, stagehands, orange sellers, and artists had ripped away the barriers of decorum and propriety that had been with her forever.
Now she wanted to roll in a bed with him and act out every fantasy she’d ever dreamed of. White cotton sheets, candles, and music as he gently swept a feather over her nipples, lower to her stomach, lower to her . . .
“Where next?”
The abrupt tone of Thomas’s voice cut through her contemplation and Monica’s cheeks burned. She sat a little straighter, purposefully staring ahead as her heart beat fast. “I think we should try to visit the Bradys and the Edmonds before we go to your parents. I want to speak to as many families as possible.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “More importantly, I want to talk about your interruption when I was talking with Mrs. Drake.”
Silence.
Monica’s hands turned clammy, but she lifted her chin and continued to stare ahead. She would not speak. She might not recollect her father speaking brusquely to his trusted groom, but she highly doubted Thomas disregarded her father’s wishes in front of other tenants. For now, she was in charge at Marksville, and Thomas’s behavior had to change if she were to instill any sort of trust in the people who worked for her family. She was determined to do everything in her power to alleviate the unease of their new situation. She glanced at Thomas’s set profile and cursed her cowardice when nerves fluttered in her stomach.
His face looked carved in stone.
Speak, you insufferable man. Speak!
He cleared his throat. “You mean the fact I underlined nothing is guaranteed for the Drakes or anyone else right now? Including you. Or the fact I saved you from making the mistake of promising something neither you nor I could possibly know will come true?”
She snapped her head around, her irritation gathering momentum. “Your impertinence has to stop. I have no idea what has put you in such a negative state of mind, but not once do I remember you challenging my father at every turn. You seem to think because we are . . .” Her cheeks burned. What are we but mistress and servant? “Because we have shared a friendship in the past, you have the right to pass judgment and comment on everything I say to you or anyone else. I will not tolerate it any longer.”
He stared at her, his eyes burning with a fire that made her involuntarily inch away from him. “I am merely trying to act as a buffer between you and the tenants. If you do not want—”
“I don’t.” Monica trembled with frustration. “I don’t want your buffering and I don’t want your interference. All I want from you is a little understanding and support. If you can’t do that in such a way not to undermine me, then I will do everything that has to be done alone.” Traitorous tears burned. “Believe me, it is something I’ve grown increasingly used to.”
Their gazes locked as Monica tried to catch her breath. He ran his gaze over her face, his attention dropping to her lips. His eyes darkened with something she could only describe as lust.
Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try to kiss me. Not now. Not when such illicit thoughts about you are still in my conscience.
He blinked and snapped his gaze to hers before facing the track once more. “Do you still wish me to accompany you to Bath?”
The question jolted her. Why did he have to be so infuriating? “I’m talking about today, not what happens tomorrow or the day after. I want your assurance you will not interrupt me when I talk to any more tenants.”
“Right.”
Her irritation grew. “Does that mean you agree to behave properly from now on?”
“It means I understand you want me to concede to everything on your terms.”
She glared. “Shouldn’t that be the way for a servant and his mistress?”
He turned and pure rage burned in the depths of his eyes, his cheeks reddened with fury. “Fine.” He tightened his jaw. “From now on, I am yours to do with as you wish.”
She swallowed, heat sweeping over her body. Even his compliance seemed laced with sexual connotation. She lifted her chin. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”
Thomas gripped Wilson’s reins tighter. He’d barely said a word to Monica in the last hour. The Edmonds hadn’t been home, and although the Bradys were, their silence as Monica explained she intended to do her utmost to ensure her father’s passing didn’t upset their lives, made her task harder than ever. He clenched his jaw. At least with Mrs. Drake voicing her fears, it had given Monica something to respond to.
The tenants’ silence was infinitely worse.
Now they were headed to Thomas’s home. Thomas’s family.
His gut knotted with protectiveness for his mother, father, and sister. No matter h
is promise to comply with Monica’s instructions from now on, it would be impossible for him to allow her to feed anything he believed to be without guarantee to the people he loved most in the whole world.
“Your silence speaks volumes, you know.”
He turned to face her. “I’m thinking.”
“You’re always thinking.”
“Do you want me to stop using my mind as well as my intuition?”
She glared, her beautiful blue eyes flashing fire. “We can’t go on like this.”
“Then maybe we should talk about what you have in mind to happen if it turns out the entirety of Marksville is yours. All you seem sure of is your need to return to the city.” He faced the road ahead. “I can’t be on your side or lessen my temper without proof you will do your utmost for the people I love.”
For a long moment, she said nothing and then exhaled. “Part of me cannot wait for the reading of the will so I know where I stand. The other part wants the paper to stay sealed for eternity.”
An inkling of sympathy whispered across his heart and Thomas purposefully tamped it down. She spoke of a problem that could only possibly be deemed insufferable by the upper middle class. Lord above, to have such problems of whether to return to Bath where her face was on every billboard as a celebrated star of the stage, or live in the country within an estate she owned. What a bloody dilemma!
He shook his head. “And why’s that?”
“Because with it sealed, I can pretend this heavy responsibility isn’t happening. I can pretend I am here for a visit, nothing more.”
Irritation hummed a warning through his blood and Thomas inhaled in an attempt to cool his simmering temper. “Jane is certain the master would’ve left the estate to you?”
“Yes, but I cannot believe it. Why would he? The minimum should be that he split the land between us.” She touched his hand and Thomas turned. Her gaze ran over his face, her eyes dark with worry. “I suspect Jane has feelings for someone here in the village and I don’t want to stand in the way of their courtship as Mama would have, but if I’m sole beneficiary, Jane will undoubtedly want to stay here if she is in love.”
Protectiveness for the young and inexperienced Miss Jane rose inside him. If the man in question was the doctor . . . “Has she told you who this gentleman might be?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea?”
“Not as yet, but I’m sure in time—”
“Time?” He glared. “Time is something you don’t have. This is serious, Monica. If you’re the sole beneficiary, that at least will lessen the interest of the man I think Jane might have been referring to.”
Her hand slipped from his and she frowned. “What do you mean?”
He inwardly cursed his inability to butt out of the Danes family affairs. It was none of his damn business whom Miss Jane did or didn’t fall in love with. “Nothing.”
“Thomas, please. If there’s something I should know about a man seemingly in love with my sister—”
“Love?” He huffed out a laugh. “The man knows nothing of love.”
“You know who she loves?” Monica’s eyes widened. “You must tell me.”
He briefly closed his eyes, wishing he’d kept his reaction to her questions under control. “I don’t know for certain, but the good doctor has been paying her a lot of attention for a while.”
“She has assured me it is not the doctor.” Her frown dissolved and her eyes lit with mischief. “Although from what I’ve seen and liked of the doctor so far, I’m quite sure he would make quite the catch for someone. He seems quite charming.”
Thomas glared. “Charming to the point of sickening sweetness. He’s not to be trusted. With the master dead . . .” He shook his head. “I just don’t believe O’Connor’s motives are entirely honorable toward Miss Jane.”
She stared into his eyes before giving a curt nod and smoothing her hands over her skirts. “Well, the feelings aren’t reciprocated, so you can stop your scowling. Jane assures me it isn’t the doctor who holds her affections. Anyway, you are the last person qualified to speak of love.”
He snapped his head round and stared at her mouth, lower, to take in the concealed sight of her ample breasts, before slowly lifting his eyes to hers. “I know enough to speak of it fully and knowledgeably.”
The rush of color from her neck to her face told him she had all too clearly sensed his insinuation. Thomas bit back a smile. Nothing would give him more satisfaction than for Monica to have thoughts of their lovemaking; that the idea he’d know how to make love to her shook her as much as it did him. He didn’t care if his look had made her uncomfortable. Be damned if he would let her believe the attentions of Dr. O’Connor to Miss Jane were anything like the attentions Thomas would like to bestow on her mesmerizing sister.
The skin at her neck shifted. “Fine. Then tell me why the doctor can’t be trusted.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that a command from mistress to servant?”
“Oh, for goodness sake.”
He smiled, relishing the infuriation in her tone, even as he admonished himself for behaving like a man half his age. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He drew in a breath and exhaled. “O’Connor has been treating your mother for the last twelve months or so, but still, I’m wary of the man.”
“Why?”
“Instinct.”
She shook her head. “You and your instinct. Is there nothing more concrete you can offer me? I can’t rely on your instinct when there are so many people to consider in my decision-making.”
“I don’t like him.” He looked at her. “I didn’t like Baxter either and kept quiet about it. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Their gaze locked before she blinked and looked into the distance. “And neither will I. Dr. O’Connor doesn’t strike me as the type of man to be wary of.”
“And why’s that? Because he has a doctorate? That hardly makes him an angel of purity.”
She snapped her gaze to his, her cheeks flushed. “Until such time as he does something to upset me, I won’t be swayed. I make up my own mind about people.”
His feelings about Baxter stormed Thomas’s head. “My instinct is rarely wrong. You’d be wise to listen to it.”
“Did Papa?”
He turned, rare heat pinching his cheeks. He could count on both hands—and feet—the number of times the master had overrode Thomas’s suggestions. The sooner he accepted Monica was the new mistress of the house and he had to bow down to her decisions as he did her father, the better. No matter how much that thought might rankle. “Not as much as I would’ve liked . . . and it was rare that he apologized when my suggestions proved valid.”
The seconds passed as the invisible wall between them grew another few inches higher.
“I’m not Papa, Thomas. As much as you drive me mad sometimes, I trust you.”
The wall shrunk and he turned. “The doctor is coming to the house and spending as much time with Miss Jane as he does with your mama. It wouldn’t surprise me if his interest is steeped in Marksville rather than courtship.”
She frowned. “You think he has an agenda as far as the house is concerned?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze hardened. “I see.”
They continued along the road and Thomas brought his lips tightly together. He could almost hear the cogs of Monica’s intelligent mind turning as she weighed his words.
Eventually, she exhaled a shaky breath. “Well, I’m seeing him at the house later this afternoon to discuss Mama’s state of mind, so I’ll take what you’ve told me into account. He promised to inform me about her treatment and prognosis.” She shook her head. “I find it hard to believe someone not to be trusted would so easily share such details with me. Wouldn’t he keep as much information as possible about Mama to himself?”
Thomas sniffed. “You’re her daughter. What other choice does he have?”
“Doctors are doctors, Thomas. They more often than not like
to keep their diagnosis and treatments secret so the patients’ families are reliant on them.” She met his eyes. “That way they can keep charging fees and taking our money. Maybe it’s not the house he’s interested in, but rather us as an upper middle class family who can afford to pay him as and when we need him. He’s very young. I can’t imagine he has many patients.”
He nodded and pride that she wouldn’t immediately trust the suave, young doctor as Miss Jane seemed to rushed through him. “Then maybe I shouldn’t say any more until you’ve met with him and drawn your own conclusions.”
His house came into view, and just as Thomas was about to hitch the reins to urge Wilson on, Monica covered his hands with hers and tugged backward. “Whoa, there, sweetheart. Whoa.”
Wilson drew to a slow stop and Thomas turned to look at her. “What is it?”
“Is there more about Dr. O’Connor you aren’t telling me? The only reason I am here is Jane.” She looked deep into his eyes. “If you know something that could help me look after her, you must tell me. I know you think I won’t stay at Marksville, but you’re wrong. I swear to you, I have made no certain decision about that at all. This is Jane’s home, Jane’s life. If the estate is mine, I owe it to her to do what makes her happy.”
He drew his hands from the grip of hers because the warmth of her skin was driving him to do the unthinkable—draw her into his arms to kiss away the fear in her eyes. “Do you mean that? Everything in your mind is still open?”
“Yes.”
“And you trust me to tell you the truth?”
She frowned. “Of course.”
“I don’t want you to think what I am about to tell you is done with the motivation of swaying your decision-making. If you decide to stay, I want you to stay forever, so the decision must be from your heart. Anything less will do no good for anyone.”
The color slowly faded from her face and she shifted her gaze from his to stare resolutely at her horse as Wilson impatiently fidgeted ahead of them.
Her silence and his referral to “forever” had clearly struck fear into Monica’s heart. The momentary terror that flashed into her eyes and the way she flinched as if his words pained her only served to reinforce Thomas’s reluctance to believe she didn’t want to flee Biddestone as soon as humanly possible.
What a Woman Desires Page 13