Reckless Rakes - Hayden Islington

by Bronwyn Scott

  As a centralized locale, he could do worse. The condition of needing a frozen lake necessitated that ice racing didn’t happen near big cities, it happened in the countryside, which suited the sport fine since so many peers holed up for the winter in their country estates. People might not stay in Kendal. Kendal was hardly what one would describe as a destination town, but people passed through.

  Hayden folded his hands behind his head, recalling Jenna’s comment: London comes to Kendal, at least to change horses. The thought took his agile brain a different direction. Who had passed through here? Had someone from London claimed her attentions once? Did a former lover fit that description? A man who had come through town briefly and left her perhaps disappointed? Such a scenario would certainly explain her shrewdness in dealing with him. She wore her wit, her boldness like an armor to protect herself. She strove hard to resist enjoying him in his entirety although she’d been rather unsuccessful in that the last two times they’d met. She wanted to extract physical pleasure without the emotional, an unusual attitude for a woman. What had happened to cause that?

  Hayden felt a strong urge to know. He wanted to know, but he didn’t need to know. He too would be moving on when the winter ended, maybe no better than the lover that had come before except that he would not leave her disappointed. He hoped. He supposed disappointment depended on her expectations. In that light, her history, his history mattered very little since there would be no future. Just as laying here pondering the merits of a permanent base in Kendal mattered very little in practice. He wasn’t going to stay here. He told himself firmly there was no reason to.

  There was also no reason to lie abed any longer. There was work to do. He had visits to pay. First to Guerre, and then to the mill. Everyone in town knew about the disappearances. It had been the primary topic of conversation in the taproom last night. If everyone knew, then it stood to reason that someone knew more than they were letting on. There was no such thing as a secret. Keeping secrets was a game people were hardwired to lose.

  “I thought I’d spend the afternoon working down here in the office.” Jenna smiled at Allerton Davenport’s attempt to hide his discomfort, or was that disappointment? For the past two weeks, since she’d seen him commit unprovoked violence against her workers, she’d made it a private game to see how thoroughly she could irritate him. It was a petty and small revenge but it was all the justice she could muster at the moment and she would take it.

  She swept past him and plopped herself behind the wide, polished mahogany desk. The desk belonged to her father and to her but she highly suspected Davenport commandeered it in their absence, the vain peacock. Perhaps he sat behind it, entertaining fantasies of himself as sole proprietor and owner of the mill. Not on her watch.

  Jenna spread her ledgers out, surreptitiously watching Davenport for any reaction but the man showed no inkling of concern. Maybe that wasn’t surprising given that he was prone to beat workers and according to Hayden’s hypothesis, at least was likely to know workers were being forcibly taken and sold into servitude. A man who knew of such things and did nothing, was not a man who would worry about his superior going through the ledgers in front of him and finding his crime.

  “Is there something else you wanted? I am grateful for your escort, but I don’t want to keep you from your work.” Jenna looked up, aware of his gaze on her, steady and constant, and a bit unnerving.

  “I was just thinking how unfair it is to have you trapped behind a desk. It’s no place for a woman.” He gave her a piece of a smile. “You should be home beside your fire, reading or sewing on a cold day like today.”

  So you could beat my workers and steal my money unsupervised. It’s probably a lot harder to do it with me sitting here, Jenna thought uncharitably. But she did her best to beam false appreciation at him. “It is how it must be, but thank you for your consideration.”

  “It is not how it must be.” His words came out in a rush. His eyes glinted dark and dangerous, his face stern. She did not often think of Davenport’s life before he came to the mill. He’d been a middle rank officer in the army, a field major. She thought of that now and all it implied. Majors were likely men who had earned their position, not bought them. He would have been an exacting leader, more likely feared than respected although he would have gotten results and ends had a way of justifying the means.

  For the first time, she was conscious that she may have underestimated him. He wanted her mill. He had offered to legitimately purchase it. He had been refused. A man like Davenport would only stand for so much refusal before he took more direct action and that worried her very much. “Again, I am conscious of your concern, Mr. Davenport, for my person and for my business.” It was the most noncommittal response she could think of. She wanted this conversation to be over.

  “Perhaps I will come down to the floor after the lunch break and see how everything is getting on.” It was a sweetly-made request, or threat depending on how one wanted to interpret it. The idea of her making a random appearance on the floor would prevent him from taking any violent liberties.

  “Perhaps I will too.” A male voice pleasantly inserted itself into the conversation as Hayden appeared from behind Davenport in the doorway. Davenport was a tall man, but Hayden positively dwarfed him. Hayden matched him in height, but outpaced him in personality; that particular personality was currently filling up the office.

  His eyes sparkled and he fairly vibrated with good health. He must have ridden over. The winter air had put ruddy color in his cheeks and wind in his hair. His great coat emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and swung about the tops of his boots, a muffler hung loose at his neck. Hayden gave her a nod. “Hello, Miss Priess. I’ve come to take you up on your invitation.”

  If Davenport hadn’t been standing there she would have been inclined to respond with ‘which one,’ and let a lovely stream of innuendo laced banter follow. As it was, Davenport’s gaze was already doing a slow drift between her and Hayden, assessing, determining the nature and depth of the relationship. He knew they were together, that had been made plain at the assembly, but what did ‘together’ mean and what did that conclusion mean for him?

  Jenna watched Davenport’s mouth form a tight line, his eyes harden as they rested on her and she saw in that brief moment that he’d arrived at his answers. Hayden was the reason she’d not been open to his rather implicit advances last week when he’d called at her house to let her know Thomas and William were gone. Perhaps Hayden, even now, was the reason she resisted selling to him, or marrying him to give the mill the leadership it needed. For the second time, she was aware of the peril Davenport posed to her; a man rejected was likely a man who would seek revenge. How was it that she hadn’t seen it before?

  Davenport’s gaze moved to Hayden. “Islington, it’s good to see you again. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to see to.”

  “Well, he’s a dour chap.” Hayden pulled off his gloves and slapped them against the palm of his hand.

  Jenna’s eyes pulled themselves away from Hayden long enough to follow Davenport’s retreat down the hall. The task was far more difficult than she’d like to admit. Hayden had a way of riveting her eye, even more so now that she knew what lay under that great coat. Would it always be like this — unable to look away from him? Unable to stop thinking ‘I’ve seen this magnificent man naked?’ She’d not planned on such a disturbing, titillating consequence. When she was certain Davenport was out of earshot, she gave voice to her earlier realization. ““I think he has finally recognized he will not get what he wants from me.”

  Hayden laughed good-naturedly and took the spare chair. He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “That makes two of us. I didn’t get what I wanted from you this morning.” She felt heat flood her face, her mind and body all too able to imagine what that might have been.

  “Ah,” Hayden went on, “I can see that you know what that was and you left anyway? That doesn’t speak very highly of my capabilities.”r />
  He was only partially joking. Not about his ‘talents.’ They were not in doubt, but about the leaving. “For decency’s sake, I could not stay any longer.” Jenna reminded him.

  “But for pleasure’s sake?” Hayden prompted with a wicked grin. “What did it matter how long you stayed as long as no one saw you arrive? No one knew you were there.”

  “The key to arriving unseen is to be able to leave unseen as well.” Jenna reminded him. “Besides, I didn’t fancy Logan bursting into your room in the morning unannounced.”

  Hayden gave a ceding shrug of his shoulder. She’d thought so. The three of them; Hayden, Logan, and Pierce, lived in each other’s pockets. They were the sort of friends who would take free entry into each other’s chambers. Part of her envied them their closeness, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to catch her in bed with Hayden.

  “So, what brings you to the mill? Is this a social call, or a business call?” Jenna tried to route the conversation back to something purposeful that didn’t involve Hayden in a bed.

  Hayden raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to choose? It has to be one or the other?” His eyes ran over her body, leaving her warm. I was hoping for a little of both.”

  “Haven’t you heard one is not supposed to mix business with pleasure?” Jenna flirted in return, leaning forward and getting into the spirit of Hayden’s play.

  “It’s far too late for that.” His gaze dropped to the wide surface of the desk. Hayden’s eyes gleamed a wicked blue, his mouth curving in a generous smile. “That’s a big desk.”

  “It’s for business.” Jenna replied coolly but she already knew where his thoughts were headed.

  “Jenna, you are my business.” Those were the five sexiest words a man had ever spoken to her. It might have been the low, private tone in which they were said, or it might have been the piercing thoroughness of the blue eyes that accompanied the words. Either way, she felt cherished, cared for, and the feeling was entirely unexpected. Hayden Islington, rake, ice racer, a man who kept a new woman every night, wasn’t supposed to be the sort to raise those feelings in her.

  She didn’t want to have those feelings. She was far too busy these days, far too occupied with her own problems, to take on another one, and Hayden would be a problem if he was not handled correctly; a problem otherwise known as heartbreak. Yet when he looked at her like that, with those mischievous eyes softening, none of that mattered. Thank goodness for the blast of the mill horn sounding the end of the lunch break. Just a few more seconds and she would have cleared the desk for him.

  “Lunch is over, let’s go down and see what you can learn about the disappearances.” Jenna rose from her chair. She came around the desk and gave it a pointedly rueful glance before looking back at Hayden. “I don’t think you’re missing much. It would have been hard.”

  Hayden rose too and gave a sexy growl. “We’re all hard, Princess.” His hand dropped immediately to the small of her back as they moved towards the door. His hand felt natural there, as if it belonged at her back and no others. She liked the attendance of his body beside her as they moved down the stairs to the main floor. If she had more time to think about it, she feared she might find it alarming how quickly his body, his presence, had become such an assuring fixture in her life.

  They’d nearly reached the floor when Hayden put his lips to her ear. “Just to be clear, Jenna, don’t leave my bed again. I didn’t like it.” It was not said possessively or with threat. These were not the words of a jealous man but a vulnerable one. They were the words of a man who didn’t admit anything when it came to relationships, admitting something. Hayden Islington, the man who could have any woman, wanted her — the one woman he couldn’t have, at least not for long.

  It was very hard to concentrate on work after that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was difficult to concentrate on work when one was hard as a board and there was a perfectly good desk upstairs that could help alleviate that predicament. It was also almost impossible to carry on any kind of conversation. Bobbin mills were noisy with the clack and whir of progress. Hayden used his eyes to take in the floor, noting the significant features. There was the feed pump, the motor-driven shaft, the lathe for boring, and the horizontally planed steam engine for line-shafting. There were the requisite belts and gears, and the water wheel powering it all off the ever running river Kent.

  The mill was a testament to the mechanization of the age, humming along like the well-oiled machine it was. These bobbins would go to the cotton mills in Lancashire to keep other fine products of industry running smoothly.

  On the surface, this was a system to be admired. But Hayden knew the glossy age of industry was fueled by a seedy, crime bedeviled underbelly. Even if he hadn’t seen it first hand in York, he would have recognized it here now. These workers were afraid. Men looked up from their tasks with the briefest of nods to Jenna. None of them looked him in the eye. They went about their tasks, efficiently and silently.

  It was not likely there would have been much talking anyway. The noise of the mill precluded extended conversation, but to a man of Hayden’s experience, there was no mistaking that this silence was driven by something other than factory noise. This was what people did, specifically what men did, when they were afraid. Women talked, whispering their concerns to one another. Women wore their fears in the expressions on their faces. But men withdrew into themselves, their faces stoic, and their conversations terse and minimal.

  He and Jenna passed by the lathe workers busy boring holes into the bobbins, the critical piles in the crates growing with each finished product. Hayden tried to imagine himself in their predicament — men who were paid by the bobbin. Production quantity drove the industry. What would he be thinking if he was a man sitting at that lathe, boring holes ten hours a day? He rather thought he’d spend his days weighing his options. Did he stay, earn his wages minimal as they were, and risk abduction or did he walk away from guaranteed income in the hopes of finding something better? Something safer?

  Both terms were relative concepts when it came to factory work. No factory was entirely safe and there was definitely a limit to the wages a mill could pay and still turn a worthwhile profit. Even a mill as generous Jenna’s had a ceiling if they wanted to preserve profit. One didn’t need to be a business expert to know that the success of Britain’s industry relied on being able to make a product cheaply. Without profit, the mills couldn’t afford to operate.

  Hayden looked about him, taking in the swept floors, the well-kept machinery. The cylinder of the horizontal steam engine looked clean. There were no obvious layers of dust from the residue of wood coating the surfaces. He’d certainly seen worse places to work. The air was filled with a productive hum, devoid of squeaky belts and creaking parts, interconnected parts working together. He wondered if anyone stopped to consider how fragile that assumption of success was. If any part were to break down, it would affect the entire works, or had that been taken for granted? That included the workers. Did Davenport think of that? Davenport’s salary depended on the mill being able to produce. Should the workers be unable to do their part, he would be unable to do his by consequence.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Hayden could see Davenport moving from station to station. Heads stayed down. No eye contact was made. The workers were definitely afraid of him, no doubt. That fear would be difficult to penetrate in a short time. He couldn’t expect to get much from the workers. He’d have to go directly to the source for any immediate results. Hayden pressed his mouth to Jenna’s ear to be heard. “I’m going to talk to Davenport. Expect me for dinner.”

  Expect him for dinner? Was there no end to his presumption? Apparently not. A man who didn’t hesitate to make love on a parlor table, was certainly not going to balk at something as mundane as inviting himself to dinner. And, drat it all, if she didn’t find the prospect exciting.

  She’d spent the afternoon planning the meal, the china, the table linen, even what dress she wo
uld wear. One might have thought royalty was coming for dinner. Daniel was over the moon. At last he was going to meet the ice racer! He’d been a handful for his tutor this afternoon and Jenna had finally relented, giving him the last part of the afternoon off.

  She couldn’t ignore the signs. Daniel wasn’t the only one looking forward to the evening. She didn’t mind that Hayden had inserted himself into her dinner plans. She should mind though. There was a reason she’d done her best to meet with him elsewhere. She didn’t want him in her house, especially for the duration of a meal. She was exposed here, her secrets on display, at least the secret that mattered most; her father. Would Hayden guess he was dying? That was news she didn’t want to get around town, or to Davenport who would see it as impetus for pressing his unwanted suits.

  Jenna smoothed her hands over the full skirts of her dark blue velvet dinner gown and glanced at the clock. He would be here soon. She should look busy instead of looking like she’d been loitering in the foyer dithering. She was worrying for nothing. Hayden wouldn’t be going upstairs. This time it would be different. Hayden would not be unsupervised. This wouldn’t be like the first time he called and had been left alone, which he had taken as permission to wander through a stranger’s home.

  Jenna heard footsteps on the stairs behind her; Daniel’s swift-paced step. “Is he here yet?” The anticipation was evident in Daniel’s voice. She turned, smiling at her brother’s excitement and froze. Her brother wasn’t alone. Coming slowly several steps behind Daniel, attired in waistcoat, cravat and dressing-robe, was her father.