“Yes, my lord.”
“I am Baron Froste, a friend of Berwick’s.”
Bowing in acknowledgement, she wondered what interest he would have in her.
“The baroness spoke at length about you and suggested I meet you.”
Pricks of warning assaulted her flesh at the mention of that woman. On one hand she was grateful Kenneth hadn’t been the one speaking of her, but coming from the baroness, this couldn’t be good. She suddenly wished Kenneth had escorted her to work. Then she wouldn’t be having this conversation with a man who looked at her as if she were a problem he was sent to solve.
“I am honored, my lord.”
“Would you care to take a walk?” Lord Froste asked.
She nodded and followed him down the side path circling around the back of the manor. When they stopped, Baron Froste watched her with suspicion.
“Is there something you want from me?” she asked, anxious to get this over with.
“Actually, yes. I believe it is past time you found another job.”
“You have no need to concern yourself with my actions.” Kenneth paused, feeling a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I know what I’m doing.”
His mother got to her feet, and glared down at him. Although he knew he could stand and squelch her desire to exert her newfound parental authority, he steepled his hands on the desk instead. She held no power over him.
“I’m trying to help you. That boy has a secret, and I can see it. If you don’t want to believe me, it will be to your detriment. However, I intend to discover what it is, regardless.”
“Mother, leave the boy alone.” Kenneth stood, angered by the thought of her going after Samantha. “We all have secrets, and whatever his are, they do not concern us.”
“You don’t understand-”
The banging of his hands on the desk effectively shut her up. “I will not have Sam or any of my employees interrogated.”
She dropped her gaze as pink snaked up her face. “It’s too late for that. Lord Froste is telling the boy to find another job right now.”
Kenneth saw red. How dare his mother interfere in his business? The only miniscule relief he felt came from Samantha herself. She stood up to him in order to remain in the stable, so he had no doubt Froste wouldn’t boast of success.
In any case, the time had come for his two friends to return to London or go impose on someone else. Not only would their departure benefit him by decreasing their constant talk about marriage, but his time would be freed up. His body hardened to think of all the pleasant things he could do with Samantha.
The only task remaining to him was delivering the news he discovered to Lady Laramie. Although he hadn’t found the girl, he found someone who had knowledge. The caveat being Mr. Joice only agreed to impart the information to the lady herself. Then Lady Laramie could return to London with her granddaughter.
He would return as well, eventually. After all, he needed to marry, but he intended to live life to the fullest before he sacrificed himself to the matchmaking mothers.
Chapter 8
Samantha unabashedly lounged naked on the new bed Kenneth had arranged delivery of a week ago. Although she hadn’t been thrilled to accept another gift from him, the luxurious feeling of the soft mattress quickly changed her mind. Besides, with as much time as he’d spent here, her tiny bed wouldn’t have been sufficient.
She shivered as Kenneth trailed his fingers over her stomach, tracing her belly button. Even after the week with him, she found she couldn’t get enough. Every time he left her, she felt his absence deep within her soul. They belonged together.
“Will it always be like this?” She wondered aloud. Surely her body’s need for him would wane.
He nuzzled her breast with his face. “I would change it if I could. I would shower you with diamonds.” He raised his head and pierced her with his intent eyes. “You would want for nothing. I would put you up in a large house, and you-”
Drawing herself up to a sitting position, she looked down at him in shock. “A house?”
“Yes. Don’t get upset. Surely you’re not attached to this one.”
Ignoring his jab, she crawled over him and pulled on her dressing gown. She was a fool. Her silly heart tricked her into believing he reciprocated her feelings. The notion made her stomach queasy.
“So that is what I have to look forward to?” She kept her back to him as she stood with her arms crossed. “Such a grand future.”
The bed creaked as he stood. She braced herself for his touch, but instead clothes rustled behind her. Tears burned her eyes. He cared so little for her that he heard his cue to leave. She wanted to bang her head against the wall to rid herself of her stupidity.
“What do you expect from me?” His strained voice made her whip around as fury rocked her body.
“After all this, what do you think I expected?”
His blank face watched her, driving the knife in harder.
Her eyes ran along the floor to the bed, then she saw the chairs. Realization hit her, bringing bitterness to her mouth. He’d made himself clear, she’d been the one to misinterpret everything.
“I understand fully, my lord. My services have been paid in full. So much for all your talk of not expecting repayment.”
“It isn’t like that, Samantha. I-”
Brushing past him, she grabbed his shirt off the floor and tossed it at him before opening the door.
“I think you should leave. We owe nothing to one another anymore.”
Pain crossed through his eyes, but she ignored it for the false feeling she knew it to be. He only lost a bedmate, of which he could easily find another.
He walked toward her and reached out, but she pushed him away.
“Please, let me explain. It isn’t that I don’t want you, but I must marry an heiress to sustain the estate.”
She nodded to him as a larger hole ripped in her chest. He’d never planned on marrying her. The entire time, every kindness had been a ploy to get her into bed. Unfortunately his plan worked too well.
“How wonderful for you.” She applauded her dry tone.
“Please, I need you to understand. I never planned to hurt you. I-”
“Just leave. You are no longer welcome here.”
After pulling his shirt back on, he sighed. “As you wish, but only for now. We are not done with this discussion.”
“Yes. We are.”
She slammed the door the second his foot reached outside. Unable to take the pain any longer, she threw herself on the bed as warm tears poured down her cheeks. Her sobs came from deep within her chest.
How had her life been reduced to this? This past year sorrow didn’t let up as it constantly plagued her. Blinking her eyes rapidly in an attempt to dry her tears, she drew herself up on her elbows. The bed smelled too strong of Kenneth. She needed to escape.
Finding her clothes with her foggy vision proved to be difficult, but her desire to leave pushed her forward. When she took a step out into the cool evening air, she felt marginally better. Her tears finally ceased, leaving her with anger.
Following the street, she decided to go to Francine. Ever since her friend began pursuing Mr. Lemange, they hadn’t spent much time together.
Samantha hadn’t told anyone about the change in her and Lord Berwick’s relationship. Should she tell now? Would Francine understand?
By the time she made it to Francine’s house, she’d decided she couldn’t tell her friend what had occurred. However, she could ask for help to find a new position. Working for the man who broke her heart wouldn’t be wise.
A few yards away from her destination, she paused. An elegant lady exited a carriage and entered Francine’s house. Samantha had never seen a member of the upper class conducting business with Francine’s father and her curiosity piqued.
Climbing through the back window as usual, she found Francine lying on her bed.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Francine said as a greeting.
“I know, and I’m sorry. How is your courtship with Mr. Lemange?”
Francine swung her legs to the side of the bed, making room for Samantha to sit.
“Not great. He is still looking for you. I don’t know how much money your father had, but apparently he thinks it’s substantial.”
Samantha shrugged. She would never marry the man, no matter what he claimed. Her father’s funds would be safe whether she had to remain in hiding or not.
“I noticed a lady of quality coming in right before me. Does she regularly visit?” Samantha asked, changing the subject.
“I’ve never seen anyone like that. I wonder why she’s here.” Francine tapped a finger against her cheek. “I could go listen and come tell you what I find out.”
“What if you are caught?”
Francine rolled her eyes. “I’ve done it many times and no one ever finds out.”
Before Samantha offered another protest, her friend slipped out the door. Left to her own devices, she lay on the bed and tried not to think of anything. Any good or bad memory held too much pain for her to bear.
Not more than a few minutes passed before Francine appeared in the doorway. She stood there staring. Samantha opened her mouth to question her, but Francine’s father pushed into the room. His lips were drawn in a tight line.
“Francine, we will discuss this later,” he said, than faced Samantha again. “You, young lady, need to come with me. But first, I’d like to say how disappointed we all were when you disappeared.”
Samantha dropped her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Joice.”
He snorted and then held out his hand to indicate she precede him. Samantha wondered why her friend told her father she’d been up here after being caught.
Had the woman from earlier left? Samantha hoped so. She refused to suffer further humiliation by being reprimanded in front of a stranger.
Unfortunately, the first person she encountered in the front room was the elegant lady. The woman rose to her feet and offered a tearful smile as Samantha entered with cautious steps.
“I will leave you two,” Mr. Joice said, then closed the door, leaving Samantha alone with the stranger.
“Samantha,” the lady began. “Please sit with me.”
Cautiously granting the request, she chose a chair closest to the door.
“I see you know who I am, but I am left at a disadvantage.”
The lady’s smile only widened. “I love a woman with a little fight in her. I daresay you got that from me. After all, I’m Lady Christine Stanton, Countess of Laramie, and your grandmother.”
Samantha’s heart seized. This woman had been part of the reason why her mother ran from London. Could she forgive her grandmother for her mother’s heartache?
Closing her eyes, Samantha took deep breaths. At age twenty the law still required her to have a guardian, but she’d been alone all this time. She could walk away. But did she want to?
Indecision tore at her, causing her head to spin. Could her life possibly become any more confusing?
Kenneth tossed back a brandy, then poured himself another. He was angry. No, furious with himself. He’d handled the situation with Samantha horribly, and now he had to pay for it. The worst part being her refusal to show up to work.
The past four days of waiting for her to resurface felt like torture. Since she kicked him out of her house, he decided to allow her to keep her privacy and not barge in on her at home, but it had been difficult. Now he was done waiting.
Looking into his glass, anger surged through him. How could she act in such a manner toward him, then not show up? She owed him more than that. Over their time together, he’d earned more. Yet here he sat, indulging in brandy after brandy.
He glanced at the offending liquid, then threw it across the room, ignoring the sound of the glass shattering against the wall. Not satisfied, he lifted the brandy decanter and sent it to join the scattered pieces and wasted liquid. The mess hadn’t helped as it only increased his fury at himself.
“Kenneth?” His mother’s unwelcome voice held concern.
“I’m not available right now,” he yelled through the closed study door.
The door opened anyway.
He threw himself into his seat, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and linked his fingers. Now wasn’t a good time for a talk with his mother, but she apparently didn’t care.
“Why have you locked yourself up in here?” she asked as she took a seat. “Since your friends departed for London, I have been alone.”
“That has never concerned you before, so why is there trouble now?”
“It wasn’t by choice. My illness kept me away. Otherwise I would have spent more time in your company as a boy.” The hurt in his mother’s voice rang false in his ears.
Her eyes were calculating, and he didn’t like it. Over the past months since his father’s death, he’d interpreted his mother’s attentiveness as a desire to reestablish their broken relationship. Now he saw the truth. She didn’t want him; she wanted control.
If he married, she’d be the dowager baroness and be forced to return to her previous self-imposed exile. His blood boiled within him. His own mother had manipulated and used him. She only wanted him close in order to be in command of him.
He stood. “I don’t agree. I believe you enjoyed living alone at one point, and I daresay you’ll enjoy it again. When I wed, you’ll have the opportunity to rekindle those feelings.”
With that parting remark he marched out of the room and straight to the stable. He couldn’t sit around any longer, and Samantha owed him answers. However, by the time he made it to her home, his temper had waned.
The mere sight of the house brought an acute ache to the middle of his chest. His heart drove him forward, demanding he fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. But his brain squelched the urge. No matter how much he wished matters could be different, he couldn’t change the facts.
When he knocked, the door swung open without resistance. His blood went cold. He stepped inside and allowed himself to breathe again when he saw nothing out of place. With the exception of Samantha. Where was she?
Moving deeper into the room, he caught sight of a slip of paper on the bed. Only one word had been written upon it.
Goodbye.
Samantha tugged at the sleeve of her new dress as she sat in the drawing room of her grandmother’s elegant London townhouse. Even after the past month, she could still scarcely believe it. She was the granddaughter of an earl. A noble.
The cruel irony wasn’t lost on her. Kenneth had rejected her in order to marry an heiress. Now she could claim that designation but no longer wanted him. Even if she did, it would only give him another opportunity to use her. This time for her money.
“Ladies don’t fidget,” her grandmother whispered to her for what had to be the hundredth time.
Had the other six ladies in the room noticed her blunder? Would they care? Samantha began to believe she would never get it right. In the country, she hadn’t encountered so many rules or regulations. Existing in high Society proved more difficult than anything she’d done in her entire life.
“Tell me, Lady Samantha, what did you do in the country?” one of the ladies asked.
Her grandmother stiffened beside her. Samantha had already been schooled to not let anyone know about her father’s background. Living the remainder of her life in a lie didn’t appeal to her, but she had no choice. Apparently people in London enjoyed judging others harshly.
“My family and I led a quiet life. However, we never wanted for good company or the occasional gathering.”
The women nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer her grandmother had decided upon.
“My husband used to insist we spend the holidays at his estate. I must admit, the solitude is difficult to bear. Needless to say, he finally came to his senses.”
Her grandmother bristled. “Well, not everyone can stand to be around themselves. After all, we all have tr
ouble being around you at times as well.”
Instead of reacting to the insult, the lady laughed. Samantha suspected she didn’t understand the meaning. These women were vapid, and Samantha wondered why the countess put up with their inane chatter. As the conversation continued, Samantha tried to block the talk from her mind.
Considering her dance instructions were going well, her grandmother had decided to accept an invitation for a ball this evening. Since the Season had passed, the countess had lamented the lack of activities, but Samantha felt overwhelmed. Hardly a day passed without another invitation.
The idea of a ball gave her grandmother such joy, but the very idea terrified Samantha. Would she be able to remember all her tutoring? Would she be accepted? Would they know she didn’t belong?
“Now remember, don’t fill up your dance card too quickly,” her grandmother reminded later that night. “Save enough room to include the gentlemen who arrive later.”
“I remember.”
Samantha barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. The mere thought that she would be inundated with dance partners was ridiculous.
Not an hour later, she dropped down in a chair, never feeling more grateful for a break. Dancing every set proved more physically exhausting than any amount of stable work she performed to date. When the first notes of a waltz started, she’d already decided to never dance again.
Then she saw him. The stark black evening coat matched his hair perfectly. Hair that swayed slightly as he moved through the room. Hair that demanded she run her fingers through it. Her body shivered as memories engulfed her.
Catching the Baron Page 9