by Lara Temple
‘No, the “someone else” is his betrothed. He is about to jilt her for Dru.’
‘Drusilla Ames? I always thought she was sweet on Henry. But Henry would never jilt anyone. He is far too honourable. Why, his father would leap out of his grave at the very thought. And what on earth does this have to do with you?’
Nothing and everything.
He ran his hands through his hair and told her in the basest terms about Ellie’s situation, the betrothal plot, and Ellie’s help in his attempt to uncover the meaning behind Huxley’s letter.
‘And yesterday I went with Barker to Nettleton and he paid a quick visit to the bank that holds her mortgage...’ He paused, daring a glance at Sam to see what she made of his confession so far. At least he had her attention, but he wasn’t certain what thoughts were behind her wide-eyed stare.
‘Her mortgage,’ Sam prompted.
‘Yes. Well, I had Barker purchase it from the bank for me. There were other debts as well. He told the banker to inform her they’d sold the liabilities to another institution and to deliver a letter stating Whitworth...that’s their family home...has been reassessed or something and that the long and short is that they are no longer under threat of foreclosure if they meet a new and more reasonable schedule of payments. I could hardly have them forgive the debt outright—that would have set all the bells pealing. Which still leaves her with a problem.’
‘The new and more reasonable schedule of payments.’
‘Precisely. Which led me to think...should she receive a certain salary for a position that would provide her and her family with the means to honour those payments, especially in the event the estate itself continues to face challenges?’
‘I see. A position. Say, with a certain widow in need of a travelling companion?’
Chase waited for her to kick down his house of cards. It was so flimsy, he was surprised she didn’t just laugh in his face, but she merely looked down, brushing at a stain of paint on her skirt.
‘Tell me what she is like, my future companion.’
Chapter Fifteen
Chase swung off Brutus and studied the house before him. Estate management was not his forte, but even he could see it was being held together with spit and goodwill. The windows were warped, the paint was chipped and what might once have been a lawn was being methodically but not very neatly tended to by a pair of goats that raised their heads to glare at Brutus.
Brutus glared back.
Chase slung the reins over the gate and approached the next, and far more daunting, stage in his plan.
He had barely raised the knocker when the door opened and a head of grey curls, some still tied in strips of cloth, poked out and began a slow journey upwards from his boots.
‘Good afternoon, is—?’ Chase’s polite enquiry was interrupted mid-way.
‘Well! You are a very tall young...well, not-so-very young man. And well favoured, but that is beside the point. Your height, however, is not.’
‘It isn’t?’ Chase took a step back to get a better view of the woman. She looked to be in her sixties, but with a surprisingly youthful face. He searched his memory and smiled. Aunt Florence.
‘It is precisely the point, my tall fellow. I was searching for Hugh, but you are better. Here, take this.’
Chase automatically extended his hands and received an earthenware pot with a rather limp stalk of green.
‘Slugs,’ the woman announced.
‘Slugs?’
‘Precisely. They adore basil. You may place it there on the top shelf. This is south facing, you see.’ She pointed to a wooden shelf to the side of the entrance which already held an assortment of mismatched pots. Chase went to place the pot on the top level.
‘I see. You are hoping that even the most intrepid slug will tire before he scales those heights.’
‘You are clever. I dare say you are married as well. Tall, well favoured, intelligent men are rather rare on the ground. Unless you have been clever enough to evade matrimony.’
‘And if I have?’
‘Then you may come in after you save our basil. Were you thinking of coming in or have you come to dun us? So many people do nowadays, but I warn you it will do you very little good. We are quite, quite destitute and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. Eleanor will add you to the list, though, if you wish. It is, however, long.’
‘Actually, it...
‘It is my brother’s fault, of course. But we shan’t speak ill of the dead, at least not in public. It is Tuesday, is it not?’
‘Wednesday, I’m afraid.’ Chase brushed the earth from his gloves and returned from his basil-saving mission.
‘Are you afraid of Wednesdays? How peculiar.’
‘Miss Walsh, I am sure this charming discourse is very effective in discouraging unwanted creditors, but I assure you I am only here as a friend of the family.’
She tugged at one of the strips of cloth, setting her curls dancing. ‘How do you know my name?’
He smiled at her descent from batty to wary.
‘Inference. I am utterly harmless. I merely wish to speak with Miss Walsh... The other Miss Walsh,’ he amended as she opened her mouth to speak. She looked him up and down again, but there was a different quality to this inspection.
‘That is a blatant untruth, young man.’
Chase blinked, taken aback for the first time since she shoved the basil pot at him.
‘I assure you...’
‘You may be many things, sir, but harmless is not one of them.’
‘I...’
‘Who are you speaking to, Aunt Flo?’
A young woman with red-brown curls and a smattering of freckles poked her head around the door. He saw the family resemblance immediately, though this young woman was shorter and plumper than Ellie. Her eyes widened as she inspected him, but the wariness remained there and she didn’t give any more room in the doorway than her aunt. It reminded him of his days brokering a truce between feuding tribes near the Khyber Pass. These people were accustomed to living on disputed territory.
‘He says he’s a friend of the family,’ said the aunt.
‘Which family?’
‘Precisely. But he did help with the basil. The slugs, you see.’
‘It was my pleasure to do so, Miss Florence Walsh. Miss Susan Walsh.’ Chase bowed to both women in turn.
Susan Walsh’s eyes widened further, showing a very bright blue.
‘He did that to me as well,’ Florence Walsh said. ‘It is very suspect. And yet he assures me he is harmless.’
‘That was perhaps an unfortunate choice of words. But I stand by my statement that I am a friend of the family.’
‘Are you certain you have the right family, sir? Walsh is a common enough name.’
‘Quite certain. I am here to speak with yet another Miss Walsh. Miss Eleanor Walsh, to be precise. My name is Charles Sinclair and...’
‘Chase?’
Miss Florence Walsh stood aside as Ellie opened the front door fully, her hand braced on the door jamb.
Chase had been enjoying himself with the two other Misses Walsh, but that one word was like having the cold muzzle of a gun make contact with his bare back. He went very still, every nerve end on alert, every sense strained to its maximum to prepare for danger and action. The only difference was the heated pulse that began hammering insistently and the conviction that whatever happened, no matter how much this might be a mistake, he was absolutely on the right track.
He might not be harmless, but Ellie was decidedly harmful for his equilibrium.
‘Ah. Miss Walsh. Your sentries seem to think I am not to be trusted.’
‘They have excellent instincts. Mr Sinclair.’
The wash of heat that spread through him at seeing her receded at the distinctly cool note in her voice. He wasn’t certain what respons
e he’d expected at turning up on her doorstep, but not to hear the same tone as at their first meeting.
The other Misses Walsh planted their hands on their hips in unison, but Chase was no longer in the mood to be amused.
‘That may be the case, but I would like a word with you, Miss Walsh. If I may.’
‘And I with you, Mr Sinclair. Sue, please could you take that aptly named brute of a horse round back? I’m afraid our stables aren’t up to his standards, but then I doubt Mr Sinclair will be staying long.’
Chase flexed his hands.
‘Surely your groom...’
‘We haven’t a groom. Or a footman. And I think Cook might swoon just at the sight Satan’s steed here. You needn’t worry for Brutus. Sue is excellent with animals.’
‘I not worried for him...’ Before he could strike back at Ellie’s jibe, Susan took Brutus’s reins and began leading him off.
‘Come along, Brutus, you lovely thing, you.’
To Chase’s shock, his valiant steed dropped his head and followed Susan Walsh like a chastened schoolboy.
Ellie turned back into the house and Chase followed, not quite as complacently. He was tense and annoyed, but he still absorbed the shabby but neat interior. There was a single side table by the door, but other than that the narrow hallway was empty and the walls bare. Ellie led him to a room at the back which evidently had once been a large library. He looked around at the mostly empty shelves and at the large desk stacked with ledgers. There was no fire though the day was chilly, but there was a thick and rather tattered blanket draped over the chair by the desk. He closed the door and focused his attention on Ellie as she took something from the desk and sat down on one sofa, motioning him to the other. He remained standing, leaning his hands on a chair.
‘So. What is all this hauteur in honour of, Ellie? Or is this how you greet all your guests?’
She held out a sheet of paper.
‘I received this from the bank in Nettleton this morning.’
Ah.
‘Bad news?’
‘That depends. It informs me the bank has sold our mortgage and certain debts acquired from various merchants in Nettleton... But I am quite convinced I need not inform you of the particulars, Mr Sinclair. Because no sensible institution would acquire what they must know are debt of such poor quality and offer such reasonable terms unless they had an ulterior motive.’
Chase rocked the chair a little, considering his options. The temptation to dissemble was strong, but he knew lying to Ellie would come at a price. But then so would being honest.
‘Is it so very obvious?’
His admission melted the ice in her eyes, but only to reveal the fury behind it.
‘Obvious! I return from Huxley to face my fate after pouring out all my woes to you. After you manoeuvre Henry and Dru into each other’s arms with that Mr Ambleside of yours. After you wave me on my way and tell me everything will come right in the end, which was possibly the most infuriating statement anyone has ever said to me and I am including our many creditors. And a day later I receive...this.’
The paper shook in her hands. She was shaking.
He tightened his hold on the chair. He wanted to go to her and take her hands, say something idiotic like ‘everything will come right in the end’. Again. And she would probably hit him, box his ears with something much harder than that piece of paper.
‘You had no right. This is my responsibility.’
‘Technically it is your brother’s.’
Well, that was a mistake.
Her eyes narrowed, the brown as hard as the Russian Steppes after a frost. She no longer looked pallid or drawn, she looked livid and ready to wage war against the hordes of hell.
‘Precisely. My brother. You didn’t even consult with me. You just swooped in and made everything right... I struggle for years and years and years and all you have to do is send in your man and your money like...like a magical sorcerer. How dare you!’
‘Ellie...’
‘I will pay you back. Every penny. Every blasted farthing. However long it takes.’
‘Ellie, calm down...’
‘No, I will not calm down! Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! You think every problem can be solved with money and manipulation. Because that is all this is, Mr Sinclair. You smooth things over as swiftly as you can, arranging the world to suit you by whatever means possible, just like my father. The devil take principles if one can buy one’s way to freedom.’
That stung and he stepped back, his anger finally rising to match hers.
‘Would you really prefer your principles over the welfare of your family? Principles are costly, sweetheart.’
‘It can be even more costly if you do not have them!’
‘Well, obviously I don’t, according to you, so I need not worry. I apologise for saving your family from ruin. Or should I be apologising for proving you cannot manage on your own? That you might actually need help from someone? Or especially from someone as unprincipled as a Sinful Sinclair?’
‘My objection has nothing to do with your family, but with your methods. You knew I would never agree, so you stepped around me. You have put me in a...a devilish position, Mr Sinclair.’
‘So I have. But you are in it and so am I. So I suggest you stop sulking and perhaps we can resolve it together.’
‘How dare you? I am not sulking. This is my home we are speaking of.’
‘I’m well aware of that. Apparently I now own part of it.’
She surged to her feet, her expression wavering between shock and outrage.
‘You are despicable!’
‘Because I told my man of business to resolve this issue? It took me twenty minutes to explain the situation to him and cost me little more than that brute of a horse out there. Why shouldn’t I have done it?’
‘Because...because now I am in your debt.’
‘No, you are not, your brother is. You think I am arrogant? Well, you outshine me, sweetheart. You are merely the overly managing older sister who is too proud to admit she can’t whip the world into line just as she does her little fiefdom here.’
She gave a strange little gasp and turned her head to glare at the window.
The carved moulding on the chair was biting into his palm and he eased his hold. She had every right to be upset and he had no such right. It was foolish to feel disappointment, hurt. And even more foolish to strike back.
The wood beneath his palm was shiny and dark, worn by many hands resting on it. Her family, her home. All she had.
‘It’s done, Ellie. You are right, I acted hastily. But I did it in good faith.’
‘I know you did.’ The words were forced out. ‘And I didn’t mean those things I said. I know you aren’t... But I cannot let it stand, can’t you see that? We will repay you. Everything. But it will still take longer than your...terms.’
‘Yes. Well. It need not. You see, I did have an ulterior motive. And that is why I am here.’
‘An ulterior motive?’
She turned slowly, but the colour sweeping up from her neck was swift and definite. He clung to the chair again as a wave of heat swept through him, too, in the completely opposite direction. At least the chair was well placed to mask the effect she had on him. He didn’t know whether to be offended or admit he was so tempted to employ any means to finally feed this insistent desire.
‘It’s about Sam,’ he said, almost desperate to put something between him and his worst instincts. At least it caught her off guard.
‘Sam? Your sister? Has something happened to her?’ Her transition from anger to concern was too swift for him.
‘No, no. I mean, not exactly...’
‘Tea?’
They both turned as Aunt Florence’s grey curls, now cloth-free, poked round the door.
‘I have a tray
here with a fresh pot.’
She disappeared, reappearing bearing a wooden tray with a teapot and two delicate cups adorned in pink-and-yellow roses. ‘I brought out Mama’s good set,’ she said with a quick apologetic smile at Ellie as she placed the tray on the table beside the sofa.
‘I can see that, Aunt Flo.’
‘You really should light the fire Ellie. It is quite frozen in here, isn’t it, Mr Sinclair? Well, I shall leave you to continue your discussion.’
Chase took the hint and went to the fireplace, taking off his gloves. There was not much kindling, but he took the tinderbox from the mantelpiece and set about lighting the fire, grateful for the activity. When the first flames licked at the twigs he stood and brushed his hands.
‘Which one of us was she checking on?’
‘Both. No doubt everyone is in the kitchen, trying to make head or tails of your visit. They know something happened at the bank today and naturally the appearance of a strange man here is further cause for concern.’
‘Haven’t you told them?’
‘Only that we have more time. I did not know what to say. I knew something was wrong when Mr Soames called on us, but I never guessed... Until I heard your voice and then... Well, once I made the connection it was rather obvious, just like Mr Ambleside. What is it you wished to say, about your sister? And ulterior motives? I would rather know the worst as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.’
He rubbed his jaw, the stubble rasping against his palm. To think he’d risen at the crack of dawn to reach Whitworth at a reasonable hour only to come under more attacks than he’d had to cope with since he was caught in the middle of a tribal war in Afghanistan.
‘And I would like to have some tea, if you don’t mind. I’ve spent nigh on five hours on a horse and I’m tired, thirsty and being turned to ice when all I wanted to do was serve you a good turn...’ He held up his hands, bringing himself to a halt. It was all true, but that wasn’t what had him teetering on the edge of an abyss he didn’t want to look into. He needed something a hell of a lot stronger than tea.
She swallowed and went to pour the tea.
‘You must think me dreadfully ungrateful,’