The few remaining pieces of furniture were shabby, ruined by rodents and rain from the damaged ceiling.
Simon watched as Laura walked to the fireplace, her boots crunching across bits of damaged roof. She didn’t look down. Her attention was on a dusty painting above the mantle of a child and a dog. In the girl’s features, he could see Laura.
“She is you?” His question was more a statement. She’d told him that this was her home. There were likely more paintings, more trinkets, and more memories of Laura within these walls.
She pushed her bonnet back on her shoulders, nodded, and spoke. “Yes.”
From her position, Simon couldn’t see her face but felt her sadness, saw it in the droop of her carriage. There was no stiffness in her body as she crossed and rubbed her arms.
“The last day I spent here was the day before my father died.” She turned to scan the room. Grief lined her features. “I was married that afternoon in this very parlor.”
Married? “You are married?”
For days he’d spent all his time lustily thinking of her eyes, her face, the curves of her body, and she was a married woman? The idea of her legally belonging to another man was inconceivable. How had she gone from wife to courtesan?
She lifted her eyes to his. “The marriage was a sham to appease my dying father. The parson was a drunkard and not truly a parson at all. I did not know the truth until days later, after—” She cast her eyes downward. “My husband took great joy in informing me that I was, in fact, not his wife but his courtesan. He gleefully assured me that he’d never marry a lowly squire’s daughter.”
Simon gnashed his teeth. “And your father?”
Laura clasped her palms together and lifted them to her mouth. “By the time the truth came out, my ‘husband’ had already dragged me to London after a brief farewell. My father never knew of the betrayal. I received word some two days later that Father had died.” She swallowed deeply. “I wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral. My ‘husband’ thought I would solicit help and flee.”
A grave impish light slowly filled her eyes. “But I did flee. I suffered his punishments and bided my time. And when the moment came, I didn’t hesitate.”
The story certainly explained why she was clad in only a gown and slippers when he’d found her. Simon imagined her sneaking down some dark servants’ staircase and into the night, a pair of footmen on her trail. Her false husband may have thought he owned her body, but her spirit had remained intact.
And knowing that she’d only been with one man filled him with a strange sense of relief.
“Had you been armed, the footmen wouldn’t have had a chance of reclaiming you,” he said, his admiration growing.
A shy smile tugged at her mouth. “I think you have mistaken me for a woman with more courage. I did what I needed to survive, nothing more.”
Simon walked to her and took her hands. “You underestimate yourself, Laura.” He rubbed his thumbs over her gloved knuckles. “You have more strength than you realize.”
She briefly allowed his touch before pulling her hands free. Her chin went up. “I cannot allow him to take any more from my life. Otherwise he will continue to own me.”
There was steel in her; he’d seen only brief glimpses of it until now. Her false husband had bent her and tried to break her will. When she’d fled, she proved herself stronger than he. The man was probably still raging about how he’d lost the game to his missing courtesan.
“You have the spirit of ten men.” Simon smiled. He wanted to pull her into his arms and inhale her sweet floral scent. He wanted to show her what it was to be held with tenderness and affection. He longed to teach her that pleasure was to be found in bed, not force.
However, she was gently born, raised to be a wife, not a mistress. She needed friendship from him, not seduction. So no matter how much he ached for her, he would not seduce her to his will. If she wanted him, it would be Laura who made the decision.
“You see me as more than I see myself,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Though I thank you for the compliment.”
Simon tipped his hat. “Now you promised to assist me with my new home. I intend to hold you at your word.”
Laura matched his smile, chasing the shadows from her mind. She could either spend the rest of her days with a cloud of gloom over her head, or turn her life into one of purpose.
Although being in this cottage brought her sadness and renewed her grief over losing Father, from this moment forward she planned to tuck away their sad last days together and remember happier times instead.
“I will fulfill my promise, but first…” She walked past him and out the door. “I am growing weary of wearing the same three borrowed gowns. The one I wore the night of the escape has been given away and the others came from Sophie. While I’m here, I shall collect some of my things. I long to wear my own clothes.”
“It will be nice to see you in something that fits.”
“It will be nice to wear something I chose for myself,” she said and looked down. “Sadly, I have lost some weight. Alterations may be required.”
Mister Harrington followed her through the cottage and up the stairs as she went to her room. Dust covered everything and gave the cottage an eerie feel. But she focused on her mission. Without asking for help, she dropped to her knees and dragged a valise out from under the bed. She heard Mister Harrington lean against the doorframe.
“I do not need help,” she said firmly.
A soft chuckle followed her order. “As I am beginning to learn.”
For the next several minutes, Laura dug through her belongings, taking a few favorite gowns, stockings, slippers, and other important items. Though her gowns were simple and unadorned, they were hers.
She couldn’t pack much into the valise. Still, she was satisfied with her choices. The last items she chose were a pair of tiny paintings of her parents. She stared down at them, tears welling, before gently placing them atop the tidy pile and snapping the valise closed.
She spun to face Simon. “Now you may assist.”
He bowed and collected her valise. He made a mock pained expression when he lifted the item and she shook her head with a smirk.
“It isn’t that heavy.”
“I think I’ve strained my back,” he teased as she walked past him, leveling a glare on him as she went.
The next stop was her father’s room. Laura averted her eyes from his crumpled bed. Their staff had been minimal in the end, as his modest pension dwindled with his care. After the funeral, the servants would have left to seek other employment. There would be no reason to tidy up behind them.
Laura went to his wardrobe and opened the doors. Most of his clothing was gone, taken by servants or thieves, but for a few musty old pieces. Odd that there was anything left at all.
The earl must have decided the contents of the cottage not worth his consideration. He’d left it all to rot rather than auction the lot. And as the cottage belonged to the estate, it wasn’t his to sell.
She slumped with relief and picked through the few remaining coats until she found the one with the missing button. A quick check of the pockets revealed what she was looking for: a purse filled with coins.
Glancing back, she smiled. “Buried treasure.”
She pulled out the purse and shook it. Coins clanked. “Father did not fully trust banks.” She pulled it open and looked inside. “Of course, there wasn’t a need to use one. There was never much.”
Simon took the item from her and poured the coins in his hand. “Still, it is something.”
“Miss Eva will allow me to stay until I find employment,” Laura said. “However, I cannot accept her hospitality indefinitely. Space is limited at the school. One less room means one less courtesan helped.”
“Eva would never turn you out,” Simon replied.
Laura nodded. “I know she wouldn’t. However, the school is for courtesans seeking husbands. I am not seeking a husband. And there are no other
positions open. I must find a way to support myself.”
He clanked the coins. “You have some funds.”
“It’s only enough to live on for a few weeks.” Laura reclaimed the coins and put them back in the purse. “I find it unlikely that Father had secret investments somewhere.”
Mister Harrington nodded. “There might be a way to claim part of his pension, or maybe a long-lost relative left him a forgotten account. If you’d like, I can check into it for you.”
She met his eyes. “Thank you.”
His kindness had no end. Laura had worried about visiting the banks for fear of discovery. She didn’t know how far the earl’s spies reached. Right at this moment, eyes could be peering out of the forest surrounding this cottage, ready to report her arrival.
Her stomach soured. “We should leave now.”
Laura tucked the purse into her pocket and hurried through the cottage. She barely noticed the darkening sky as her eyes darted into the shadows of the trees. There was no sign of watchers, yet she couldn’t be certain. The earl would not accept her defection with grace.
Mister Harrington helped her into the saddle. She darted another glance around her. Though there was no sign anyone had been there, Laura suspected that the earl had sent someone to check the cottage.
“It has been weeks since your escape,” Mister Harrington said as if reading her mind. “If someone was sent after you, he has long given up looking here.”
A cold chill dusted over her. Whether it was from fear or from the wind in a threatening sky, gooseflesh dotted her skin.
“The danger he poses is real, no matter how many weeks have passed. I cannot fall into his clutches again.”
Simon reached up to touch her hand. “You have friends to help watch over you: Eva, Noelle, Sophie, and me. We will fight to keep you safe. You are no longer alone, Laura.”
The words went right to her heart. Tears welled and she blinked to keep them at bay. Unable to trust her voice, she instead turned her wrist and clasped his hand in hers.
Their eyes locked. They stayed that way for a moment until Laura flushed and looked away.
Mister Harrington released her hand and handed her the reins. “Let’s see to the house, shall we?”
He mounted Horse and turned back toward the manor. Laura nudged the mare into a trot and followed at a reasonable pace, back up the trail.
“You must be familiar with this house,” Simon asked after they’d arrived and she’d slid down unaided from the mare. “The cottage is part of the property.”
Untying the bonnet and removing it, Laura looked up at the four-story structure. “The owner was distantly related to my father. Some sort of cousin by marriage.” She brushed loose hair from her eyes. “He had little use for his poor relations, though he did send over food when it amused him, and allowed us to live in the cottage. I visited only a half dozen times to return picnic baskets and never ventured beyond the kitchen.”
The manor was lovely. She remembered occasionally dawdling in the kitchen as a child, wondering what it was like to live there. “The grounds were never cared for properly, as my cousin was unable to hire a decent groundskeeper. Edgar was reputed to expect much from his servants and paid them very little. No one stayed long.”
She paused and scanned the weed-choked lawn. “It was one of those times that I drew the attention of my husband.” She grimaced. “He was a visiting friend from Eton. They’d gone to school together. My cousin and he were quite alike, both the worst sort of bounders. Edgar died without heirs several months after my father died, from a fall off his horse.” She paused. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“You think it wasn’t an accident?”
Laura scrunched up her face. “He was the sort of man who had enemies. One of them could have easily broken his neck.”
Chapter Nine
From all he’d learned about Laura today, Simon was surprised she’d not been broken. The life of poverty, a sham marriage, abuse, all cobbled together to kill a spirit. And yet here she was, continuing onward in spite of the burdens she carried on her trim shoulders.
“Was there an investigation into his death?” Simon asked.
Laura shrugged. “I do not know. I was told of his accident and nothing more.” The wind ruffled her hair. “He callously seduced young women all over Surrey and beyond, leaving outraged fathers in his wake. If there was an investigation, I suspected it warranted only a cursory glance.”
It was difficult to prove murder under the best circumstances. In this case, the clues would be minimal.
“Then we shall accept it was an accident and move forward with our exploration.” Simon led Laura to the front door. A thought crossed his mind. He stopped. “I’ve not asked if this manor holds painful memories for you.”
Laura looked up at the stone façade. “Not painful. I do have some misgivings, though not enough to overcome my curiosity. I have always wondered about the rooms beyond the kitchen.”
Simon smiled. “Then we shall continue.” He paused and looked up. “The door is the tallest I’ve ever seen, as if the entry was meant to rival a castle of old. It was part of what drew my interest when I first saw the manor.” The door was actually not one but two panels, which protested loudly on their neglected hinges when he pushed them open. Laura preceded him inside.
“It is as I remembered.” She smiled wickedly. “I did manage a quick peek of the hall once when my cousin was away.” She ran a gloved finger across a table by the door. “Though the dust is new. My cousin was a tyrant when it came to both his clothes and his home. The kitchen was immaculate and the staff harried. He ran the household with a heavy hand.”
“The servants were fond of him then?” Simon jested. Her smile lit up the dim entry. He longed to touch the corner of her delightful mouth with a fingertip right before he kissed her soundly. He silently cursed the noble intentions that kept him from acting on his impulse. The last time he’d almost kissed her had ended badly. He’d not frighten her again.
“Oh, yes,” Laura said. “Immensely. If it wasn’t for the lack of employment opportunities in the area, he’d have had to remove his own spiderwebs from his ceilings.” She looked up to where several spiders had taken up residence in the high crevasses of the two-story space.
“You said he had no other relatives?” Simon asked.
“None that I know of,” Laura said. “His mother died when he was young and his father a few years ago. He had no siblings.”
“Why then did his estate not go to your father? Or you?”
Laura shrugged and walked farther into the foyer. “Rumor swirled that he’d made some questionable financial transactions and owed money to some powerful men. Whether that is true, I don’t know for certain, but I assumed his estate went to pay his debts.”
“I did purchase this property from the bank,” Simon said. “It went for far less than it’s worth.”
She ran her fingertips over a narrow rosewood table and looked at him over her shoulder. “I am pleased the property went to someone who will care for it.”
Simon moved away from the door and walked over to examine the pair of staircases that led to the second floor. “I made a cursory examination of the manor when I bought the place, but have not looked at the draperies or peered into every nook. I want to see my new home through your eyes.”
The dread that Laura had expected when she followed Simon around the manor did not come, in spite of the fact that she’d met the earl on these grounds. No, the fluttering in her stomach came from being alone in this huge manor with Mister Harrington. Simon. The idea of spending the hours ahead with the unsettling man left her uneasy.
It was becoming difficult to keep her thoughts of this near stranger in check. He occupied her mind more than he should. He was charming and amusing and a bit dangerous. Though he was a gentleman, she knew if he ever crossed paths with the earl, he’d inflict damage on the bastard.
“Shall we continue?” His voice brought her attention b
ack. She’d been woolgathering quite frequently today.
“The house is as beautiful as I suspected,” Laura remarked.
Whether by accident or design, the tour did not include the bedrooms. She wondered if his thoughts had been as inappropriate as hers and he didn’t want to add the temptation of beds to their time together.
She followed as he led her from room to room, pointing out this rug or that gilt-and-glass candlestick, while her mind was fully elsewhere. Once, she noticed, to her chagrin, that she was staring at his bum when he bent to right a tipped-over vase. She jerked her eyes away, only to dart them back for another quick glance.
For the first time since their meeting, she freely saw him not as just her rescuer but as a man—a very desirable man.
Though there couldn’t be anything more than friendship between them, she enjoyed his company. And he was pleasing to the eyes with his wind-ruffled hair, squared jaw, and excellent form.
It took her a moment to realize he’d stopped talking and was looking at her with amusement.
“What is it?” she asked, puzzled.
“I’m boring you,” he said and lowered a vase back onto the cherry fireplace mantle.
“No. No, it isn’t that.” She flushed, caught admiring his manly perfection. “I was, I, drat.” The warmth in her cheeks deepened. “I wasn’t paying attention. I do apologize.”
He rubbed his chin. “We do not have to continue the tour.”
Laura sighed. “I do want to see the manor. I suppose being so close to home has tangled up my thoughts.” She squared her shoulders. “Please let us go on. I promise to admire each and every room with great enthusiasm.”
It took focus to keep her mind on his words as they continued up from floor to floor. By the time they got to the attic, the wind was howling outside, setting the shutters on the attic windows to rattling.
Laura was certain by the conclusion of the tour that she could name all the finer points of his male form, and nothing about the house.
The Scarlet Bride Page 8