by Gordon, Rose
“My lord, I don’t think you understand.”
“I usually don’t,” Giles admitted.
Lucy ran her hands over the front of her skirts again.
Taking pity on her, Giles said, “Ma’am, I am a simple man. If there is something you must say, just say it.”
***
If ever there were a time to have the floor beneath her open up and swallow her whole, now would be perfect. Why did the dratted man have to play games? It was obvious he’d been quite pleased with her earlier unintentional compliment, but why did he have to make a dramatic production out of accepting her invitation to stay the night? It was obvious that he wasn’t feverish, and even more obvious that he didn’t like the idea of being thought weak, which is why she’d thought of the idea of playing on his male pride to convince him to stay.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t working so well.
She offered Lord Norcourt her best attempt at a shy smile, but the truth was, she’d been smiling at him so much since he’d arrived that he had to either think she was a simpleton or besotted. Which she wasn’t! Clutching her skirts, she steeled her spine and met his green eyes.
“Lord Norcourt,” she tried again. “If those men return, I would be powerless to stop them from taking your brother.”
Lord Norcourt seemed unaffected.
“I suppose he’s not a favorite relation of yours,” she ventured. Memories of the hatred and disdain Sam, the heir, held for his younger brother Paul, the spare, filled her mind and a bitter taste flooded her mouth. Apparently Lord Norcourt was exactly the same and now the idea of him staying in her home—sick or not—was less appealing than it had been before he’d first arrived. “Now that I think about it, I think we’ll be fine. They—”
“Could hurt you,” Lord Norcourt cut in, his eyes as big as saucers. Then, if it were possible, they got larger. “And Seth.”
Now it was Lucy’s turn for her eyes to widen. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Lord Norcourt shook his head vigorously. “No. I’ll stay.”
“Truly, that’s not necessary. I’m sure they won’t be back,” Lucy said, inwardly cursing herself for ever trying to convince him to stay. She should have just let him go. Damn her caring instinct.
“No,” he said fiercely. “I’m staying.”
Chapter Seven
“Do you think the house might collapse?” Seth grumbled as he pulled his pillow over his head and repositioned himself on the settee where he’d tried to sleep.
Lucy grinned. “If it hasn’t happened yet, I think we might be safe.” She rolled out of Seth’s bed. “Why don’t you lie in the bed for a while and see if you can sleep?”
Seth grunted and made his way to the bed where he flopped down in an undignified heap.
Lucy tucked the blankets around her son then slipped out of the room and into the hall where she leaned against the wall and said a silent prayer that Lord Norcourt’s coachman would return soon. She was more than ready for her uninvited guests to leave so she could go to town in search of another post. That would be impossible as long as they were still in residence. Not to mention that she’d been unable to sleep last night and it had nothing to do with Simon’s snoring.
“Everyone’s safe,” Lord Norcourt, the reason she’d been unable to sleep, declared.
Lucy opened her eyes to look at him. Standing in the hall and cloaked in shadows he cut a fine figure. She shivered. “Thank you.”
He made a strangled noise, but didn’t say anything. Either he was embarrassed for some unknown reason or perhaps he didn’t know how to graciously accept a thank you. She nearly snorted. He was a lord, so naturally it was the latter reason.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
“Please.”
Lucy made her way to the kitchen, aware he was directly behind her. If his heavy boot falls hadn’t been enough of an indication, the heat his body radiated would have let her know just how close he was. Inside the kitchen, she moved to put some distance between them and went to the window above her worktable and opened the curtains. Taking longer than necessary to move the curtains just so, she racked her brain for what she’d be able to make for breakfast. Nothing she had was acceptable to feed a lord. Sighing, she turned around and gasped.
Quickly, she turned toward the door to her little room where she stored her food.
“Is something wrong?” Lord Norcourt asked.
Yes, you’re carelessly burning the last of my tallow candles! She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. “No, my lord.” She took a deep breath. A gentleman of his station didn’t know what it was like to do without or the struggle of having to make a few meager supplies last until the means could be scraped together to get more. She clenched her hands together to keep them from shaking and took another breath. Just feed them and they’ll go away.
But she had nothing to feed them. Though she worked in a bakery and knew how to make breads and cakes, she couldn’t afford the ingredients necessary to make anything of the like in her own home. “You don’t happen to have a fondness for gruel, do you?” she muttered in a self-mocking tone.
“Don’t mind it,” Lord Norcourt said.
Lucy straightened and chanced a glance over her shoulder at him. He stood with his left shoulder leaning against the wall and his arms crossed, impaling her with his stare.
“I beg your pardon, my lord.”
“What for?”
“My suggestion. I—I—” She swallowed. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been to market recently and I fear I don’t have anything your lordship might enjoy.”
“Gruel.”
She pursed her lips. Was he mocking her? “Perhaps you’d enjoy some kippers and coddled eggs from the inn in Shrewsbury.”
“Gruel will be fine.”
Lucy didn’t know if it was his mocking words or his tone and superior stance, but something in her snapped. “You wish for gruel, and that is exactly what you shall get.”
A blank expression came over his handsome face. “I like gruel.”
“No, you don’t,” she said with a harsh laugh. “Nobody likes gruel. We just eat it when we’re forced to.”
Lord Norcourt’s body went stiff as a fire poker. “Force?” he barked, a stricken look coming over his face.
She put her hand on her hip. What was it about him that made her react this way? “You know what I meant.”
He shook his head. “No, I do not.”
Frowning, she said, “Lord Norcourt, why do I feel that you’re purposely being diffi—” His lowered lashes and slumped stance halted her words. Was it possible that he was being genuine? Shame washed over her. She didn’t know how or why she suddenly understood, but she did. She still didn’t understand completely, but his earlier statement about being a simple man resounded in her head. He was the sort who was very literal and said exactly what he meant. No games. She could see that now and appreciated him more for being that way, for there’d never be any pretenses with him. Noticing his eyes were still downcast and his cheeks still tinged pink, she snapped her fingers to catch his attention. “If gruel is what you like, then gruel is what I shall make for you,” she said, favoring him with her best grin.
Trying to ignore the way she felt like a fool for such an idiotic statement, Lucy reached for the metal water pail that was on the shelf near where Lord Norcourt was standing.
“Allow me,” he said, his hand reaching out and covering her hand that held the handle of the bucket with his.
Lucy started, but didn’t release her grip on the pail. “The well is just behind the house,” she said as easily as she could considering her heart was slamming against her ribcage and a warmth akin to a small fire blazed up her arm.
He nodded his understanding and gave her bucket a slight jerk.
Lucy’s body pulled forward. “I can’t let go,” she whispered. Nor did she want to. Her face flushed at the thought and she jerked at her hand that was still trapped under his.
It all h
appened so fast, but a second later there was a loud clanging sound reverberating throughout the room as the pail hit the cold stone floor. Lucy brought her hand to her chest.
“Sorry,” he grunted. “I—I—” He closed his mouth and snapped up the bucket then stomped outside.
Lucy buried her head in her hands. No. Not again. Anything but this, she thought as memories of the first time she’d had interest in a gentleman flooded her mind. A lord, no less.
She dropped her hands to her side and went to the pantry to busy herself until he returned with the water. Distance. That’s all it would take to make her heart stop thumping and settle her blood. And she’d have distance soon enough. In fact, sooner than she’d originally thought. She didn’t have to stay here until the coachman returned with their horse. As soon as breakfast was ready, she’d leave to look for another post. They should both be gone by the time she returned.
“Here.” Lord Norcourt plunked the heavy bucket of water on the table so hard a little splashed over the side.
“Thank you.”
He grunted his response.
Doing her best to ignore the imposing figure that watched her, she went about making gruel. When it was finished, she called her son to the room.
“Shall I go wake Mr. Appleton?” Seth asked.
“It’s little wonder he hasn’t woken himself already,” Lucy muttered, nodding her affirmation. From the corner of her eye, she caught Lord Norcourt smiling a little at her jest. “I’m sorry.”
He waved his hand in front of his face. “Don’t.”
A moment later a grinning Seth returned.
“Aren’t you missing someone?” Lucy asked.
“He has to piss,” Seth said offhandedly.
Lucy’s jaw dropped in mortification and she barely registered that Lord Norcourt said something to her son.
“Excuse me,” Seth said to her quietly. “I didn’t mean to be—” he looked to Lord Norcourt who bent and whispered something in his ear— “indelicate.”
Stunned at what had just happened, Lucy mumbled an acceptance and looked to Lord Norcourt who seemed oblivious to her state of surprise.
“I beg your forgiveness for being tardy,” Mr. Appleton said as he entered the room just then. He ran a hand over the top of his combed hair then straightened his collar. “A gentleman must always remember to attend his toilette when in the presence of a fine lady.”
His brother scowled. “You’re missing half of your wardrobe,” he remarked.
Simon shot him what Lucy took to be an annoyed look and ignoring Lord Norcourt, pulled a chair out. “Ma’am.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be eating.”
All eyes swung to her.
“Why not, Mama?”
She gave Seth what she hoped would be a quelling stare.
No such luck.
“You don’t have a post to get to since you were late to work yesterday and got sacked.”
Mortification came over Lucy in overwhelming waves.
“You have new employment now,” Lord Norcourt intoned.
“Pardon me?” Lucy asked, confused. Was he asking her or telling her?
Lord Norcourt clasped his hands behind his back. “I have a post for you.”
Lucy’s face burned with indignation and she pursed her lips. She could only imagine what kind of post he had in mind for her. It wasn’t that she minded being boarded off into the country to do some menial post at his estate. It was the fact of whose estate it’d be. “No, thank you.” She raised her chin. “I will find my own post.”
“Nonsense, my mother will be happy to have help,” Mr. Appleton said with a flick of his wrist.
Giles stiffened at the mention of their mother, but said nothing.
“Again, no, thank you,” Lucy said. “I don’t think I’d be a very good lady’s companion.” That was true enough, she wouldn’t and it had nothing to do with the fact that if she worked for the dowager Lady Norcourt that she’d have to see Lord Norcourt again.
“She doesn’t need one,” Simon said with a somewhat mocking twist of his lips. “My mother remarried after the old Lord Norcourt cocked up his toes and now she runs the lending library in London.”
“The lending library,” Lucy echoed.
Simon nodded. “She’s always saying she could use help.”
The lending library would be a wonderful place to work, but she couldn’t work for Lady Norcourt. That had trouble stamped all over it. “No, thank you. I don’t need anyone’s charity.”
Chapter Eight
Giles’ heart squeezed. He knew too well what it was like to be offered something solely out of Christian charity. “I apologize,” he said earnestly. He never should have offered her a position. What a stupid, heartless thing for him to do! He tightened his clasped hands past the point of pain and straight to numbness.
“It’s not charity…” Simon’s voice floated to Giles’ ears. “My mother could use the help.” The irritating man continued on, but Giles didn’t bother to listen.
Instead, he thought about how much he might like to flick his brother. She was Giles’ mother, too. Or was she? Biologically, yes, but in every other sense of the word, she was more Simon’s mother than his. He forced himself to release his clenched hands before he snapped the bones in his fingers. “No,” he barked.
“I beg your pardon,” Simon said, crossing his arms.
“She said no,” Giles snapped at his brother.
“Perhaps to your proposal, but I’m offering her respectable employment...”
Respectable employment? Giles didn’t hear the rest of what his brother said over the blood that was suddenly thundering in his ears and the words echoing in his head. His offer was respectable, too. His head snapped in Lucy’s direction. “I—I—I wasn’t—” he blustered not sure how to word what he wanted to convey. The blood in his ears roared louder and he couldn’t make out the faces of anyone in the room as his eyes rapidly darted between the three. A strangled sound emerged from his throat and he tried again, “I didn’t—” He abruptly broke off. It was useless. His broken mind wouldn’t work quickly enough to tell his tongue what to say. Frustrated with his own simple stupidity, he quit the room and went to the ramshackle barn where McDougal had put his horses for the night.
He scowled. There were no saddles and he knew better than to ride a carriage horse bareback. No matter. He’d walk to the village and buy a horse there. Surely someone would be willing to sell his mount if the price was right.
Grunting, he reached into his breast pocket and removed the blank notebook he often carried with him. He flipped past the sketches he often drew when he was disinterested and ripped out a blank sheet from the back before reaching into his breast pocket again and pulling out a broken pencil he used to draw. He placed the sheet of paper on top of his notebook and scribbled, Went home. He set the note on the coachman’s bench then left the barn to walk to the village and put distance between him and his brother. And her. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was for the best. She’d never want to have anything to do with him. Nobody did. He picked up his pace. She was too fine, too smart for someone like him. It was best to forget about her.
He was to Shrewsbury before he knew it and as he’d predicted, he’d gotten a deal on a horse. Not a good one, mind you. He might be slow, but even he realized he’d overpaid for the horse. Unfortunately, the realization didn’t happen until an hour after he’d left. He shrugged and rode on. He hadn’t really been taken advantage of. He’d have paid just about anything for a mount. The other fellow knew it and just took the opportunity to help himself. Giles couldn’t blame him for that.
Shrewsbury was less than a day’s ride from London and just as it was time to take his evening meal, he was on the steps of his townhouse, perfectly safe from the demeaning attitude of his brother and the spell of the woman who’d so easily captured him completely. He closed his eyes. No. He wouldn’t think of her again. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted to keep what little san
ity he possessed, that is.
***
Lucy was dumbfounded by the exchange between the two brothers. To be honest, though, she had to admit that she didn’t understand about half of it. There certainly had to be more to their disagreement than what she’d just witnessed.
Unsure what to say to break the suffocating silence that had come over them, Lucy eased down into the chair Mr. Appleton had earlier pulled out for her. She should go to town, she reasoned in her mind. She needed to find a new post. But for a reason she couldn’t place, she felt pulled to stay and wait for Lord Norcourt to come back.
But he didn’t come back.
“He must have walked to the village,” Mr. Appleton, or Simon as he’d asked her to call him, deduced with a shrug that made him grimace in pain.
Lucy nodded slowly. “For the best,” she said under her breath.
Simon raked his hand through his hair and cast a quick glance over his shoulder to where the coachman stood by the open door to the Norcourt coach. “Have you reconsidered my earlier offer?”
“No. I’ll find work here.”
“And if you don’t?”
She didn’t want to contemplate that. “I will.”
He pressed his lips together and gave a terse nod. “Well, if you don’t, my mother would be happy for the help.” He patted his chest and frowned. “I wish I had one of my calling cards to give you, but they were in my coat.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said honestly at the same time that Seth said, “No need for a calling card, sir. I gots a good memory. What’s the name and direction?”
Grinning at Seth, Simon spouted off the name and address to the lending library.
Lucy didn’t bother to take note of his words.
A short time later their uninvited guest climbed up into his brother’s coach. As the coach made its way down the lane, Seth surprised her by running after it.
Her heart squeezed at the gesture. She couldn’t really say if Simon had been just as taken with Seth as Seth was with him, but she doubted it. A man might tolerate a lady’s family if it was beneficial to him in some way. Frowning, she went inside her house and readied herself to go to town to find a new post.