A Husband for Hire

by Patricia A. Knight

  Julia clasped Eleanor’s hands in hers. “Completely understandable. I will send Miles straight to you the very moment he is back. Must you leave immediately? Or will you stay for tea and a light repast?”

  Eleanor sat at the desk in her father’s library, her cheek propped on her closed fist and stared at the unrelenting rain and sleet pounding the windows in wind-whipped onslaughts. It seemed everything was working in opposition to her, and that included the weather. For the last week, the warm sunny days of mid-May had vanished to be replaced with dreary cold and wet more appropriate to early March. The exercise boys had complained about having to take the horses out in such filthy weather, but at least no one would willingly travel, so while she didn’t expect Miles, neither did she expect Mr. Ludlow.

  A knock at the library door straightened her in her chair.

  “My lady, Lord Miles Everleigh is here asking to speak with you.”

  “Oh, good heavens! By all means, show him in, and send Milly to attend this fire. I’m sure the poor man is chilled to the bone. Have Cook send up some of her hot spiced cider with a few dashes of rum and some bread toasted with cheese.”

  Next she knew, her husband stood before her and made an exceedingly elegant leg. How someone whose hair was plastered to his skull, whose finely tailored clothes hung ruined with wet and whose every step squelched, could still pleasure the eyes was beyond her.

  “Madam, I trust I find you well?” He closed his eyes in obvious impatience. “Dash it all, Eleanor, I’ve no stomach for platitudes. I’ve been twelve hours on the road in the vilest of weather. What is wrong? Mother said you came to Fairwood in search of me. I know nothing but the direst of emergencies would drive you to do so. I rode here straight away.”

  “Miles, thank you for coming. Here…please, take this chair by the fire. You are soaked through and must be freezing.” She stood and moved a wing chair as close to the fireplace as she dared and motioned for him to sit.

  He chuckled wryly and indicated his disheveled and dripping ensemble. “Unless you insist, I’ll spare the furniture, but thank you for the courtesy.” He moved to stand in front of the fire and turned to face her. Small drips of water shed from his attire hissed as they hit the hearth.

  She couldn’t take her eyes from his. Now that he stood patiently before her, she was unprepared with words. So much had happened to advance her understanding; he’d done little to deserve her wrath, and he was so dreadfully kind and handsome. She felt a blush rise to her face, and she finally tore her gaze away from him and looked down. “Oh…how awful! Your boots look entirely ruined. You must let me replace them. I expect Hobby in London has your lasts? I’ll send the order right away. Were the roads quagmires of mud? They must have been, or you would have driven. I ordered hot rum cider for you—and toast with cheese…”

  “Eleanor, that all sounds welcome.” He paused, weary forbearance inherent in his voice, “Now, will you please tell me what is amiss. What do you require of me?”

  “Your mother didn’t say?”

  “She told me only that I should come to you with all haste.”

  Eleanor sat abruptly on the desk chair making a mental note that the Dowager Duchess had been true to her word not to speak of what passed between them. It would have been far easier for her had the Dowager Duchess spoken. She opened the top right desk drawer and rummaged through a stack of papers until she found the letter from Elsington & Elsington and held it out to Miles. “Read this.”

  He read it carefully and looked up when he’d finished. “I take it you have been visited by Prinny’s agent?”

  “Over two weeks ago, yes. He was most insistent on speaking with Lord Miles Everleigh. Said he had some questions pertinent to our marital contract.”

  “Indeed. What was your response?”

  “That you were away on the continent on a buying trip. That I would advise him upon your return.”

  A rap at the door sounded, and the chambermaid entered to attend the fire followed by a footman bearing a tray with a covered plate and a steaming mug with odors of cinnamon and apple emanating from it.

  “Ah, your rum cider and toast.” Eleanor motioned for the footman to set the tray within easy reach of Miles and watched with some satisfaction as he wrapped a hand around the amply-sized mug, raised it to his lips and took several hearty swallows.

  “And?” His gaze held hers steadily.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t think when he looked at her so. “I would be very grateful if you could see your way to remaining here, at Rutledge, and conduct however many interviews it may take with the agent of His Royal Highness, until such time as Mr. Ludlow considers us legitimately living as man and wife.”

  “I see.” He removed the silver dome covering the toast, selected one of the thick slices and raised it to his mouth. The melted cheddar cheese elongated into yellow strands which broke and wrapped his hand. His tongue licked them into his mouth. His white teeth made a circular bite into the hearty fare, and he chewed with apparent appreciation, bite following bite until he had finished the entire piece.

  She watched his movements with fascination, taken from herself by his almost sensual pleasure in the simple fare until his direct look of inquiry returned her to the subject at hand.

  “Should Father… pass… in the near future, I would be most appreciative if you could see your way clear to remaining until the will has been probated.” She again watched as Miles consumed the other piece of toast and drank what remained in his mug.

  Miles carefully wiped his hands on a linen towel provided with the tray. “You are asking me to be absent from Fairwood for a period that could easily span a year’s time—possibly more.”

  “Yes. I am well aware that the only beneficiary to dispelling any further inquiry will be me. The marital contract was drawn up in such a fashion as to assure you of your monies in perpetuity. Your funds come out of the Earl’s private holdings and not the entail.” She looked out the window. “I will, of course, facilitate whatever travel or communication you feel is necessary between Rutledge and Fairwood, and will instruct my staff to be at your disposal.”

  “Good of you.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes and wilted at the dryness of Miles’ voice. “I’m sorry. I’m doing what I always do. I’m as prickly as a hedgehog and making an utter toss-up of this.” She offered Miles a glance of apology before her gaze returned to the window and her tone softened considerably. “I’d meant to throw myself on your mercy and impress you with my sincerity and womanly vulnerability. Instead, I’ve offered to replace your boots and fed you toast.” She wrapped her arms around herself and hung her head. He would refuse to help her, and she had no one but herself to blame. His low chuckle was the last thing she expected to hear.

  “I’ll stay until the agent is satisfied and your father’s will is probated—however long that takes.”

  She turned and faced him. “You will?” An upwelling of intense gratitude made it difficult for her to speak. “Thank you. I… I… I cannot thank you enough. You are everything that is kind, and I cannot imagine why you should be. I have been absolutely hateful to you.”

  “Not absolutely.”

  She winced.

  He gave her a crooked smile “As a point of curiosity, just where will I be sleeping?”

  Eleanor’s face blanked of all expression. She’d never considered… “Of necessity, I suppose in my bed. It would seem uncommon and give rise to damaging gossip for a new groom not to attend his bride every night.”

  “To lie inches from you for months on end? I have not been gelded, Eleanor. I cannot promise to remain a gentleman under such intimate circumstances.”

  His appraising look and the unusual glint in his eye gave her pause. “You would take an unwilling woman?”

  “I never have.”

  Relief flooded her. “Well, I should hope not.”

  “You mistake my meaning. You will be willing.”

  Her mouth opened and closed
without uttering a sound.

  Chapter Thirteen

  M

  iles manfully repressed the absurd grin that fought to emerge in response to her wide-eyed look of utter consternation. Oh, he meant to have her, and if she thought she’d be unwilling, then she very much mistook her man. He hadn’t realized until that precise moment, but he wanted her—permanently. If he were going to reside at Rutledge for the indefinite future, he had the luxury of time at his disposal and the rudiments of a plan to win Eleanor began to take shape.

  Between them, the silence deepened and lengthened; Eleanor still had not uttered a sound, just stood there and stared at him with wide eyes. As the well-bred gentleman that he was—most of the time—he rescued her.

  “I would like to change out of these wet things and take a hot bath. I am free to use your apartments?”

  She nodded.

  “Still second floor, end of the hall?”

  She nodded.

  “Right. If you could have someone take the portmanteau I left in the entry hall up to your suite, I’d be appreciative. Do you keep country hours for dining?”

  She nodded and worked her mouth around a preoccupied response. “The small dining room.”

  “Will we have the pleasure of your parents’ company?”

  “No…”

  “Pity. I would enjoy seeing them again.”

  “I’ll ask if they will join us.”

  He bowed. “I’ll take my leave of you, Eleanor. Until dinner.”

  He was to see her much sooner.

  “You have hair on your chest.” Eleanor’s matter-of-fact voice roused him.

  He blinked his eyes open and with a swoosh of water, sat up in the amazing tub—amazing because it fit his length and submerged him to midway up his chest when he reclined. A moment’s reflection reminded him that Eleanor was also tall. Perhaps she’d had it custom made for her. The hot water had been such bliss after the wet, frigid ride to Rutledge that he’d nodded off.

  She stood half in and half out of the door to the ensuite bath chamber—an elegant room done in Carrara marble. Her gaze dropped to the floor, only to slowly regain his as if she were helpless to look anywhere else but at him. A slight pink colored her cheeks.

  “I meant to wash my face and change for dinner. I’d forgotten you’d be here.” She ran her index finger up and down her forehead and gave a snort of helpless bewilderment. “Your presence has put me at sixes and sevens. I’m completely disordered in my mind. Please forgive my intrusion.” She shook her head and laughed, her chagrin apparent. Turning, she made to leave.

  “Yes, most men have hair on their chests.”

  She paused in the doorway, her back to him.

  “Have you ever seen a nude male, Eleanor?”

  Still facing away from him, she shook her head.

  “Turn around.”

  Her spine stiffened.

  “Coward. Aren’t you at all curious?”

  She gasped audibly, released her breath in a huff and with painstaking slowness turned to face him, her hand resting on the door handle. Her gaze found his with unmistakable challenge.

  Holding her in an unblinking stare, he rose slowly from the water, took as wide a stance as the tub would allow, and put his hands on his hips. From mid-calf to the top of his head, there was nothing to obscure her vision.

  Her gaze dropped to his groin and then flew back up to his eyes. He fought not to grin. She cleared her throat and proceeded to assess him for an appreciable length of time with eyes that he suspected cataloged every detail. The rosy tint that had appeared on her cheeks migrated down her neck and into her décolleté. She cleared her throat again. “Ummm, turn around, please.”

  He did as she requested and only then, with his back to her, did he allow a half-smile to emerge. A long sigh met his ears and then her murmur.

  “You are as beautiful out of your clothes as you are in them, though all the hair comes as something of a shock.”

  She thought him beautiful? He snorted softly and turned back around, but the door was closing. Eleanor had fled. He would give a goodly sum of money to have her return. He’d only just begun with Lady Eleanor.

  He was in the process of toweling off when, with a rap, the door opened an inch or two. “My lord?”

  “Yes?”

  A middle-aged male dressed in garments that indicated he occupied the top rungs of the hierarchy of hired staff pushed the door fully open and bowed. “I’m Elmer Hopwood, my lord, first under-butler to Mr. Walters. He has instructed me to serve as your valet until such time as your man can come from Fairwood. I’ve taken the liberty of cleaning and pressing some of the Earl’s dinner attire. You are both of a size. Shall I assist you in dressing, my lord?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Hopwood.”

  “Might I suggest we begin with a shave, my lord?”

  “Excellent idea. You have some skill with a straight razor?” Miles said lightly. “I need to live long enough to speak with the agent of His Royal Highness.”

  The under-butler-turned-valet looked at the marble floor before raising a face where amusement flirted with solemnity. “Yes, my lord. I was gentleman’s gentleman to The Lord Henry Devaunt of Hob Oaks in York for ten years prior to taking service here. He provided me a fulsome recommendation. I can assure you of my personal loyalty to the Russell family, of which you are now one.” He inclined his head. “Does that explanation suffice, my lord?”

  “Why did you leave Lord Devaunt’s employ?”

  “Through personal choice, my lord. Lord Devaunt had a yearning to see the untamed ‘Wild West’ of America. I far preferred to stay in a more civilized clime.”

  “Understood.” Miles grinned. “Where would you like me, Mr. Hopwood?”

  Once shaved by Hopwood, expertly Miles was glad to observe, the valet dressed him in pantaloons of white silk over white silk stockings tied at the knee with white satin ribbons. He added black pumps and a finely pleated white muslin shirt with long ruffled cuffs and an attached collar of moderate height. The pumps fit snugly but would do for short periods of time. Over the immaculate white shirt, Hopwood buttoned him into a gold, figured-silk waistcoat with flat buttons of mother of pearl.

  “Do you have a preference as to the knot on your cravat, my lord?”

  “I have always favored the Mathematical, but I’m not particular. Something simple and not too high, please. I would like to be able to freely turn my head.”

  “Of course, my lord.” The valet proceeded to tie a moderately high, starched, pristine white cravat in an excellent example of the Mathematical. “And now, sir, if I may help you into your coat?” He held up a double-breasted, cut-away, tail coat of deep blue with gilt buttons, easing it over Miles’ shoulders and doing up the gold buttons on the front. He then reached into the sleeves, pulled free the cuffs of Miles’ shirt and arranged them in a froth of white ruffles that fell to Miles’ knuckles.

  “You are going to make me into quite the peacock, Mr. Hopwood.”

  His new valet eyed the result of his work with a gleam of satisfaction. “If I might be so free, my lord, you will be a pleasure to dress.”

  Miles entered the family dining room to find Eleanor standing by a massive oak sideboard looking pensive and sipping a small glass of red wine. She was beautifully attired in a three-quarter sleeved, empire gown of sheer ecru silk heavily embroidered with curlicues and floral figures in shimmery golden thread. The gold embroidery on the gown matched that of a sleeveless over-robe of a more substantial, deep lavender silk. The toes of crème-colored slippers peeked from the gold-encrusted hem. Her ash blonde hair was swept up into a simple chignon with soft tendrils left down to curl around the nape of her slender neck. Amethysts set in gold filigree dangled from her earlobes, but she wore no other jewelry. He found her immensely attractive.

  “Lady Miles.” He bowed.

  Her large hazel eyes evaluated him over the rim of her goblet. “Lord Miles. I’m sure Father never wore those clothes half so we
ll.” Eleanor gave him a tentative smile then looked away. “Please help yourself to whatever appeals. There is wine, both red and white, and gin or ale if you prefer.”

  Miles walked to the sideboard, inches from Eleanor, and poured himself a half glass of ale. “I do hope we won’t always be awkward with each other.”

  Eleanor turned on him with a snort, which she quickly muffled. “How awful of you to use my own words against me. I should very much like to be easy with you. I suppose I will have to stop surprising you in the bath.”

  He grinned and raised his glass to her. “Yes. Some things once seen cannot be unseen.”

  Mid-sip, she swallowed wrong and started coughing. He set his beer down and pulled a serviette from the sideboard, silently handing it to her in exchange for her wine glass. He casually sipped at his beer, and when she had composed herself to the point where a breath did not set her off into another paroxysm of coughing, she glared at him, half in accusation and half in amusement.

  “Wretched man. I believe you timed your comment purposefully.”

  He chuckled and held up a palm. “Absolve me of any ill intent. I should hate for you to ruin that lovely gown for you look all the crack, and I would enjoy seeing you in it again.”

  She dipped into a small curtsy. “Thank you.” Her eyes avoided his direct gaze, but a tiny smile tipped one corner of her mouth.

  Miles felt a pang that she should take such obvious pleasure from a simple compliment and vowed, wherever possible, to sincerely compliment her again. If he did nothing else during his sojourn to Rutledge, he would restore her previous ease of interaction with him; although he hoped for much, much more.

  “My lord…” Eleanor began.

  “Miles.”

  She inclined her head. “Miles. I want to thank you…” Her head turned, and her eyebrows rose in surprise; she smiled brilliantly. “Father. Mamma. You are joining us.”

  Two sturdy footmen wheeled chairs occupied by the Earl of Rutledge and his countess into the dining room. Miles crossed immediately to Lady Rutledge, acknowledged the Earl of Rutledge with a nod, “Lord Rutledge,” and offered Eleanor’s mother his arm. “Good evening, Lady Rutledge. I’m pleased you and Lord Rutledge will be joining us. I was disappointed not to be able to stay previously but…business called. May I help you to a chair at the table?”