“Good afternoon,” she spoke with a heartwarming voice.
What were her true intentions?
“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion,” she continued, “but I thought I’d be neighborly and come to make your acquaintance.”
A grin tugged at his mouth, and he wanted to laugh. Neighborly? His nearest neighbors were miles away, and he knew she wasn’t one of them. “You live close by?” he asked, trying to hide the scratchiness in his voice.
“Well, not really, I live inside the city, but my husband is an acquaintance of yours. That is the reason I decided to come.”
He drew his brows together. Putting his weight on his good leg, he limped closer to the buggy and gazed up at her. “I know your husband?”
“Yes. Mr. Ian Fielding.”
“Indeed, I know your husband,” he mumbled in irritation.
Her gaze wavered slightly and her hands gripped the reins. Quickly, he put the pleasantness back on his face before he caused her scream and faint dead away.
“You don’t look too pleased,” she said.
He shrugged and hobbled to his small pile of dirt, his awkward steps slowing him. “Perhaps it’s not your fault for your husband’s mistakes. It’s true I don’t care for the man, but,” he said glancing back at her, “I’ll try and be polite for your sake.”
“Pray, what has my husband done to make you this way?”
He laughed harshly. “What hasn’t he done?” He shook his head and held up his hand. “No, I won’t say more. I shan’t degrade the man in front of his wife when he’s not here to defend himself.”
She fidgeted in her seat. “Would you mind very much if I introduce myself?”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
She made a move to climb down from the buggy, so he limped over and assisted her. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his gloved hand until she was on the ground, and then he stepped back. But still, she didn’t scream in horror. This brave woman interested him.
“Thank you,” she said. “My name is Mrs. Charlotte Fielding.” She held out her hand in greeting.
He took it, bowed slightly. “Adam Newton, the Earl of Thatcher at your service.”
“It’s certainly a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Thatcher. My husband speaks of you often.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I wonder if anyone has told your husband it’s not polite to speak ill of people behind their backs.”
“Oh, no. He hasn’t spoken ill of you at all. In fact, he claims you as a friend.”
Adam lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed? That’s strikes me as humorous because I don’t think I could do the same.”
She lowered her gaze for a brief moment, wringing her hands against her stomach. “Well, will you claim me as your friend?”
He laughed. “But alas, how can I? You are married to that scoundrel, Mr. Ian Fielding.”
She cocked her head. “Tsk, tsk. You’re speaking badly of him again in front of his wife. I thought you said you weren’t going to do that.”
He grinned. “I’m sorry. It’s so hard to keep the words from falling over my lips, but I’ll try harder.” He studied her and genuinely liked the pretty picture she presented. Very much a lady. He admired that. But what was her real purpose for being here?
She glanced around the yard at what he’d been doing. “My lord? May I ask why you’re out here and not your servants?”
“To be quite honest, I don’t have any servants at present. But after working today in this bloody hot sun, I’m beginning to think a trip into town is very much needed.”
“I should say so.” She grinned. “This is very hard work for a lord like yourself. The least you should do is to have somebody help you.”
He chuckled. “Tell me, Madame, how did a beautiful and charming woman end up married to a rogue like Ian Fielding?”
She held her smile and wagged her finger. “Oh, there you go again, Lord Thatcher, degrading my husband.”
“Once again, I’m truly sorry. But it seems you don’t mind overly much. Could it be you know him as well as I?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t say. I don’t know of your relationship to my husband.”
“That, my dear, I will never tell.”
When her gaze skimmed over his attire once more, he shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with her close scrutiny. He still waited for some signs his appearance repulsed her, but a teasing grin remained on her mouth, which eased his nerves.
“I think, Lord Thatcher, you are not so blind.”
He lifted his brows. “Are you divulging your secrets?”
“Not right after meeting you. Besides, if I did I’d be afraid of losing your friendship.”
He couldn’t help it. She made him laugh. Heartily. “Oh, but I think I’ll still be your friend, especially if your secrets make your husband appear less than manly.”
She didn’t laugh, just continued to smile. “I think I’d better leave you to get back to your work.” She stepped toward her buggy. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to post a job notice for you in the city’s center.”
He rubbed his chin, not thinking about anything except the lovely woman in front of him. “That’s very kind of you. I’d greatly appreciate it. Going into town is most discouraging for me, and your efforts will be of great help.”
“Then consider it done.” She turned to climb back into the buggy. He hurried to her side, took her elbow and helped her up.
She fluffed her skirt around her legs then held the reins. “Lord Thatcher? Would you mind terribly if I called on you again?”
He grinned. “Only if you leave your husband behind.”
“But what would people think?”
He chuckled and glanced around his lands. “What people? There’s not another person for miles, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Well, if you insist, but would it be all right if I brought a friend with me next time? I know she’d very much enjoy seeing your castle. We are not from around here and have never seen anything so grand.”
He hesitated, creasing his forehead in thought. “I am really not the hospitable type, you understand.” He fluttered his hand over the scar covering half of his face.
“I understand,” she quickly replied.
“But, I’ll meet your friend if you agree not to stay very long. And if I can tell she’s uncomfortable in my presence, I will ask you to leave.”
She nodded. “That is a perfect plan. Thank you for a pleasant visit.”
He placed his gloved hands on the reins to stop her from going just yet. He couldn’t let her go. Not until he got some answers. “Mrs. Fielding?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it you’re not frightened by my face? Not once have I noticed you cringe when you look upon me, and you meet my eyes, whereas most people do not.”
Her cheerful smile didn’t waver. “Why would I be frightened of you, my lord?”
“Because of my deformities.”
She finally moved her gaze to look upon the ugly mark that took up most of the left side of his face and his chin. “That little thing?” She let out a sweet laugh that made his heart sing. “Why would I be frightened of a little scar?”
He chuckled softly and shook his head. “You’re either an excellent actress or you need spectacle badly, Mrs. Fielding. But thank you, nonetheless. You’ve cheered me up immensely.”
“I’m glad.” She gathered the reins tighter in her grasp. “Good day, my lord.”
“Until next time.” As he waved, he watched her drive away.
Adam had better be on his best behavior and not be overly friendly with her. It’d been quite a while since a woman had looked at him like she did, and he liked it.
* * * *
The hands on the grandfather clock slowly ticked by as Charlotte sat in her husband’s leather chair, waiting for his return. Dinner had been long past, and try as she might, she couldn’t find a single thing to keep her entertained. She drummed her finge
rnails on the wooden armrest as she stared out the window into the darkened night.
The clatter of horses’ hooves on the road out front announced a visitor, and she jerked her attention to the butler who scurried to the door. Sitting straight and proper, she waited for him to inform her who was calling. Instead of seeing her husband coming into the room, it was the servant.
“Mistress, a messenger delivered this letter for you.”
She stood and took it from the older man. “Thank you, O’Toole.”
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her hands before ripping open the sealed paper. Right away, she recognized Ian’s handwriting.
“My dearest Charlotte, I apologize for not being home with you now, but business has held me up for at least another day. I count the hours until I’m back in your charming presence. When I return, I’ll stay home from work and take you anywhere your heart desires.”
“Ha!” She crumbled the paper in her hands and snickered. “I can’t help but think you’re lying, my wayward husband. But it’s one more day scratched off the beastly agreement you forced me into.”
She walked to her chair and sank into the seat. Although she wondered if Ian was deceiving her, at least one good thing came out of this. She’d be able to visit Lord Thatcher tomorrow and not worry about being caught. A smile spread across her face when she thought about the mystery she’d soon discover.
The next morning, she dressed carefully. Her appearance had to be impressive, not alluring certainly. Lord Thatcher must be hungry for a woman’s company, and although she didn’t want him to misinterpret her visit, she should still look her best.
The puffy sleeves of the deep gray dress tapered down her arms, ending at a point on her knuckles. White lace decorated the high collar on the square neck, almost as if its purpose was to hide the small amount of skin on her neck. The full skirt was pinched into a small bustle in the back.
She had her maid wrap her hair loosely in a bun and cover it with black netting, leaving a few tendrils around her ears. After adding a touch of perfume to her neck and wrists, she was ready to leave.
Allison looked equally as sophisticated, and Charlotte was happy to see the two of them were thinking alike. It relieved her when George didn’t accompany them.
Allison climbed in the buggy next to Charlotte and fixed her bonnet. “I must admit this is very exciting. When you sent me the note yesterday about our outing, I couldn’t wait.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’m very happy you are joining me.” She urged the horses forward into a fast trot, and then asked, “So tell me, how are things between you and George? Do you think he’ll ask you to marry him?”
“I don’t think he will, but even if he did, I’d have to reject his proposal.”
Charlotte’s brows drew together when she glanced at her friend. “But why?”
Allison stared on the road. “Because I was married to an older man for a couple of years, and now that he’s gone, I’ve realized just how much I enjoy my freedom. I’m not ready to give it up.”
“Does George know?”
“Yes.”
“And he doesn’t mind?”
Allison shrugged. “He knows I’m not ready to marry, so he stays away from the subject.”
The ride to the castle seemed to fly by. The excitement was so much that Charlotte didn’t enjoy the green trees, the lush hills covered with wildflowers, and the freshly bloomed daisies that Allison kept pointing out to her. Charlotte’s enthusiasm grew when she entered Lord Thatcher’s property. The land appeared as desolate as it had yesterday. It made her happy that she’d sent the footman to post the notice for help earlier this morning.
She pulled the buggy to a stop in the front of the castle and she and Allison climbed out. Charlotte’s attention caught on a set of hardwood double doors, and especially a carved lion’s head looming over the entrance.
She dropped her jaw and gawked in awe, as a small gasp escaped her lips. “Can you believe this? Isn’t it absolutely Medieval?”
“I can’t wait to see the inside,” Allison whispered.
“Now remember,” Charlotte said in a whisper, “his face is hideously scarred, but you can’t be frightened or he’ll turn us away. He really is a gentle, kind man.”
Allison nodded and licked her lips. “I’m ready.” Charlotte rapped the knocker on the door.
“Did you hear how it echoes?” Allison whispered.
“Indeed. It sounds eerie.”
They waited a few minutes before Charlotte raised the knocker and let it drop again. This time, the knob turned. As the door swung open, a piercing squeal from the rusted hinges filled the small foyer. At first all she saw was darkness, and then as her eyes adjusted to the light, a body emerged through the shadows and into the sun’s rays. Lord Thatcher wore a black over-jacket and trousers, suited to fit his station.
Her heart beat erratically. “Good morning, Lord Thatcher.”
When his eyes rested on her, he smiled. “I rather suspected you’d be back.”
Her cheeks burned. “Yes, well, my father did tell me I was too curious as a child.”
“And are you still curious as an adult?”
She nodded. “Can I help it that your castle has me intrigued?”
Lord Thatcher’s gaze moved to Allison. “Mrs. Fielding, aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely friend?”
Today he wore a dark, thick scarf around his head that tried to hide the scares on his face. He must have done this for Allison’s sake. Thank heavens his scarf didn’t hide his groomed black mustache and beard, which she thought made him look sophisticated.
“Oh, Lord Thatcher,” she exclaimed, “please forgive me. This is Mrs. Allison Archibald.”
Allison’s unsteady hand stretched out. Lord Thatcher took it tenderly in his grasp and placed a small kiss on her knuckles. Allison’s face paled slightly. Charlotte held her breath, praying her friend wouldn’t swoon. Allison straightened and lifted her chin, finally gaining control. Charlotte slowly released her breath.
He smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet the friend of Mrs. Fielding.”
“The privilege is all mine, my lord.” Allison bowed slightly.
He stepped away from the door and motioned with his hand. “Would you please come in? I’m certain you would like to see inside.”
Allison chuckled. “Yes, I have to admit I’m very curious.”
Charlotte stepped into the hallway first, and darkness surrounded her. The only light was the shimmering flame of a candle sitting on a large side table by the door.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t have an oil lamp on this floor just yet.” He retrieved the candle.
“This is all I have right now, but after we get into the castle further, I’ll be able to retrieve my oil lamp. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, no,” Charlotte replied as her eyes darted around the floor, praying no mice were scurrying about. “We’ll just stay close by you.”
Charlotte remained directly on Lord Thatcher’s heels, and on a few occasions grabbed anxiously onto the sleeve of his coat. The walls were of stone, and a musky scent hung in the air. Their footsteps reverberated down the cold hallway. A chill ran through her, and she felt a cold aura to the place that a million fires couldn’t dissolve.
He led them from one room to the next, and in the semi-darkness, his limp echoed through the corridors, accenting his deformed leg. Each room they passed, she peered into the emptiness. Surprisingly, they were larger than most dining rooms of the wealthy nobility. They held no furniture and reminded her of great dance halls. It was hard to see if the rooms held paintings or decorations because of poor lighting. “Lord Thatcher? Are there any windows in this castle?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Fielding, but they’re all boarded. In my housecleaning, I haven’t tackled that chore.”
“Lord Thatcher?” Allison’s voice echoed through the empty halls. “Are you in need of help to fix up this place?”
“Why, Mrs.
Archibald.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, holding up the flame to see her facial expression. “Are you offering your services?”
Although Allison may have been weak-kneed at the door, she seemed to have gathered her wits together. “Well, yes, I suppose I am. It just occurred to me that while Mrs. Fielding and I are here, we might assist you.”
“I’m afraid the work is far greater than two gentle bred ladies are accustomed to.”
Allison chuckled. “Hard work has never bothered me, what about you Charlotte?”
Charlotte hesitated before answering. The truth was, she’d never worked a day in her life nor lifted a finger to do the work of a servant. Her father had seen to that. She fidgeted with the folds of her skirt. “Well, I don’t know what kind of help I’d be, but if you’ll show me what to do, I’d be happy to give it a try.”
He laughed. “I couldn’t possibly allow you ladies to work. You’d ruin those delicate hands of yours.”
Relief poured through Charlotte and she sighed.
Ahead of them, a bright rectangle of sunlight lay on the stone floor. Charlotte was drawn to it. She stood agape in the doorway of a most amazing room. Many oil lamps sat on the tables in the large area. Three enormous windows helped to welcome in the sun, uncontained in the late morning light. The sun’s heat gave the room a wonderful homey atmosphere, relaxing Charlotte’s nerves. In the corner of the room, built into the wall, was a huge stone fireplace with a fire inside.
Charlotte gasped. They were in the library. The tall shelves were higher than she could reach, but long ladders were placed along the bookshelves, helping to reach the elevated locations. Each shelf supported very old novels, their covers dusty and worn.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so many books in one place,” she exclaimed.
Allison walked to a shelf and removed a book. “Were all these here when you came to live here?”
“Yes. I’ve replaced a few because they fell apart when I opened them.”
“Amazing,” Charlotte replied, enthusiastically.
Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) Page 9