A True Gentleman (Regency Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  “Fine,” said Graham. “I will stay and keep Mrs. Russell on until I return to the sea.”

  Simon raised his eyebrows.

  “And I will be more pleasant to others,” said Graham.

  A small smile quirked at the side of Simon’s mouth. “Your tone fills me with such confidence.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes, but Simon stood and patted Graham on his shoulder.

  “Do not let this hardship define who you are, Graham. You are a better man than your words and actions have shown of late,” said Simon.

  His brother-in-law turned to leave but paused. “And do not make your sister cry again. Frederick Voss taught me a vicious right-hook, and I am not afraid to use it.” Simon moved to shut the door but added one final thing. “And don’t tell her I talked with you, or she will pummel us both.”

  The door shut behind him, and Graham stared at the ceiling. In normal circumstances, there was no way Mr. Simon Kingsley would best Captain Graham Ashbrook in fisticuffs. But these were not normal circumstances, and Graham had to admit that in his current position, Simon would be more than a match for him.

  That realization stung, though accepting that he may deserve such a beating pained him even more. Graham did not want to think that he had allowed himself to become the mean-spirited, cruel man Simon described, but there was enough ring of truth to his brother-in-law’s words to leave Graham pondering it for a good, long while.

  Chapter 6

  Eavesdropping was not what a lady of sense should be doing, but too much of her future depended on the conversation happening in Captain Ashbrook’s bedchamber, which is how Tabby found herself skulking outside his door. A grown woman hovering at a keyhole.

  The conversation was infuriating. Her official acquaintance with Mrs. Kingsley was hardly twenty-four hours old, yet Tabby already liked her immensely. The lady was kind and genuine in a way that was unique among their class. Or rather, Mrs. Kingsley’s class, as Tabby was no longer one of them.

  Hearing Mr. Kingsley recount his wife’s turmoil made Tabby wish to give Captain Ashbrook a thorough scolding. A grown man wallowing in self-pity. He was not the first nor the last to shoulder hardship. Plenty of others had, were, and would, yet he carried on as though he were the sole sufferer. Listening to his grumbling and groaning reminded Tabby far too much of Joshua and his constant moaning.

  As she realized that truth, Tabby was forced to acknowledge that perhaps a touch of her own temper had stemmed from her feelings towards her husband. Perhaps she’d not been completely innocent in their exchange.

  But then the conversation shifted. Listening to it, Tabby was shocked to hear Captain Ashbrook sound penitent. Not as much as he should be, but the fact that he accepted his guilt to any degree and promised to change was shocking. Elating. In her experience, wringing contrition from men with battered pride was a herculean effort. Nigh on impossible.

  Tabby was so surprised at the turn that she nearly missed Mr. Kingsley’s approach. Pushing away from the door, she hurried down the hall and pulled a rag from her apron pocket, wiping at invisible dust on a picture frame.

  “Mrs. Russell.”

  “Yes?” asked Tabby, turning to meet him before tacking on a hurried curtsy and, “Sir.”

  “I hope there will be no more issues with your working here,” said Mr. Kingsley. “But if there are, please come to me directly. In fact, anything that may upset Mrs. Kingsley should come to me, and I shall handle it.”

  Tabby smiled. “Yes, sir. And I would like to apologize again for bothering you. Mrs. Kingsley had wished me to keep the true nature of my position from Captain Ashbrook, but he worked it out.”

  “I have no idea why she thought you could keep it hidden,” he said with a chuckle. “It is better out in the open, so do not trouble yourself. She is elated you are here and has every confidence that you will be able to handle the situation.”

  “I apologize for upsetting him,” said Tabby. “I—”

  Mr. Kingsley waved it away. “I have a feeling that the best thing for my brother-in-law is a firm hand. Sometimes it is the only way to sort stubborn men out.”

  “You sound as though speaking from personal experience,” said Tabby, her smile growing.

  “Unfortunately,” he said just before Captain Ashbrook called out for her.

  “I will leave you to it,” said Mr. Kingsley with a nod as he headed down the stairs to show himself out.

  Having the support of her employers and feeling a touch more secure about her position, Tabby squared her shoulders. Speaking to him was not something Tabby relished, but it needed to be done. Better to face the brute head-on.

  “Yes?” she called, pushing open the chamber door.

  Captain Ashbrook lay exactly where she had seen him last, but his face turned to greet her. For all his earlier contrition with his brother-in-law, Tabby knew what was coming. No man cares to be put in a position of subservience to a woman, and as his keeper, Tabby suspected Captain Ashbrook would see it as nothing less.

  Stepping into the room, Tabby straightened her already straight spine. She would not be browbeaten. Her position was not in jeopardy. Not yet, at any rate. And income or not, Tabby would not allow herself or any of the staff to be badgered by this man.

  He raised a hand and beckoned for her to come closer. Tabby drew to his bedside but did not sit in the chair Mr. Kingsley had occupied.

  “I feel I should apologize,” he said.

  And that was when Tabby sat.

  “My brother-in-law has informed me that I have been a bit of a brute as of late, and I know that I was unkind to you earlier.”

  Tabby watched for any sign of duplicity, but honesty shone in his eyes. At least, Tabby thought it was genuine, though it was hard to tell with a gentleman she had known for less than a day.

  “I apologize for sacking you,” he said, “and I hope we can put this behind us as it appears I am stuck with you.”

  “Stuck with me?” Tabby’s eyebrows shot up. She needed to keep a better hold on her tongue, but the words were so vexing that she could not stop herself.

  Captain Ashbrook let out a curse as his head fell onto the pillow. “Not stuck. That is not what I mean.”

  “It is what you said.”

  “I did, but I did not mean it.”

  “Hastily said words are often the most honest,” said Tabby.

  “And what about fever addled ones?” Captain Ashbrook sent her a pleading look, but Tabby placed her hand on his forehead.

  “No fever.”

  The captain let out a chuckle, and then Tabby saw a tightening of the muscles in his face. He was trying to hide it, but she saw the pain. She had witnessed enough of his injuries the day before to surmise that such aches were likely his constant companion.

  “Will you, Mrs. Russell, please do me the honor of staying on as my housekeeper and nursemaid?” The last word was filled with distaste but enough humor that Tabby actually smiled at the man. He was an oddity.

  Tabby was going to twit him about being in his sister’s employ, but she recognized the peace offering for what it was and decided it was time to accept it graciously. “I would love to. Sir.”

  The captain nodded and held out his hand. “Perhaps it is time we were properly introduced. I am Captain Ashbrook.”

  Tabby took it and replied, “Mrs. Russell, at your service.”

  Captain Ashbrook gave another nod, released her hand, and then said something that nearly knocked Tabby off her chair. “Now, with all that done and sorted, is there any chance I could get some more of your medicine? I have to admit it did wonders for my head.”

  A slight pink drew across his cheeks, and Tabby realized that the man was embarrassed. She knew she should ignore it, but the impulse to tease him was too strong. Such familiarity with her charge could be problematic, but Tabby’s instincts told her he needed it. “You shan’t fight me this time? I am a master at getting medicine down uncooperative throats.”

  Captain Ashbrook
let out another laugh tinged with hidden aches, and though Tabby hated the thought of having caused it, the captain’s spirits looked better for it.

  “Your skills are quite impressive,” he said. “I never stood a chance, but I give my word of honor, madam. No more fighting.”

  Chapter 7

  Bent over on her hands and knees, Tabby attacked the stained floor of her cottage. Scrubbing the frayed brush against the wood, she scoured the dirt. The water came away filthy, and she dunked it in the bucket beside her and return to work. Whenever her mind drifted to how unpleasant this chore was, Tabby tried to remind herself that having a floor was better than having none at all; their home may be small and poor, but she had seen others with nothing but dirt. Unfortunately, it was little consolation when she had to clean the same spot six times.

  Her back begged for a rest and her knees were numb, but Tabby kept going. She was determined to turn this hovel into a home. It was not how she wished to spend her evening off, but since she’d not had the time to tackle the chore before, it must be done now. Joshua certainly had not seen fit to take care of it. Or the laundry. Or dinner. Or any of the other numerous tasks that needed doing.

  The cottage filled with the aroma of cooking soup, and Tabby was pleased that it smelled so appetizing. She had no idea if it would be edible, but it was warm and at the moment, she was hungry enough to eat her bonnet. Perhaps she could get Mrs. Bunting to give her a few cooking lessons when she returned to Gladwell House. Tabby did not know the woman well, but it was clear that food preparation in any form was the cook’s passion, and Tabby imagined Mrs. Bunting would enjoy sharing that love with others, so she made note to ask when she returned.

  How things had changed in a sennight. Captain Ashbrook was still prickly, but he had stopped fighting Tabby’s efforts to nurse him. He was far from an ideal patient, but he was making strides. At the very least, his repentance was genuine enough for him to keep trying.

  A sudden weight dropped onto Tabby’s back, and she barely kept herself from collapsing as Phillip wrapped his arms around her neck.

  “Phillip, no!” Tabby barked, and the weight disappeared as quickly as it came. Looking behind her, she saw her little man standing in the corner, staring at her with teary eyes. Tabby’s anger still burned while her body ached from Phillip’s well-meaning attack, but she took a breath and calmed her nerves. Phillip did not need another parent shouting at him.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” he said, wiping at his cheeks.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” said Tabby, scooting closer to pull him into her arms. “I apologize. Mama is very tired and you are getting so very big now. Almost too big to jump on Mama like that.”

  Phillip clung to her. “I’m too big?”

  Tabby kissed the top of his head. “So big.”

  He leaned back and smiled. “I’m a big boy.”

  Tabby smiled. “Yes, dearest. My little gentleman.”

  Phillip’s stomach gave a mighty growl, and his eyes widened.

  “I think it is time for dinner,” said Tabby, leaning forward to buss Phillip’s sweet cheek. He may be getting bigger, but they still held that infantine chubbiness that was so delectable.

  Tabby slowly got to her feet. It was disturbing how difficult it was to straighten, but staring at the cleaner patch of floor, it felt well worth the effort. There was still much to do, but Tabby was making progress.

  “Is Papa going to eat with us?” asked Phillip.

  As Tabby had no idea where Joshua had disappeared to, she couldn’t very well fetch him for dinner. “Not tonight, darling.”

  Phillip nodded and climbed onto a chair. Wrapping a rag around her hand, Tabby reached for the pot over the fire and placed it on the table. The aroma was heavenly, though that could be due to her own grumbling stomach. Lifting the lid, Tabby found a thick brown sludge. That was the only way to describe it. It looked horrid, even if it smelled good enough. Ladling some into a bowl, Tabby blew on it for a few moments while Phillip clamored for his meal.

  “It’s hot,” she warned, placing it before him.

  Tabby dug into her own bowl and found the veggies crunchy, the meat stringy, and the taste to be one step above bland. But it was hot and it was food, so Tabby tucked in. She truly needed to talk to Mrs. Bunting about cooking lessons. Tabby was certain she could find time away from her duties to learn the basics.

  She ate another spoonful. Perhaps more than basics.

  Glancing behind her, Tabby checked the window. A tiny bit of light colored the sky, so she still had some time before she needed to return to work.

  “Are you going?” asked Phillip, poking his soup.

  “Not yet.”

  Phillip dropped his spoon onto the table and slouched. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I know, but I must,” said Tabby before prompting him to eat again. “I will return in three days, and we will have a whole half day together.”

  That did not bring a smile to Phillip’s face.

  “Perhaps we can do something special together then,” said Tabby.

  Phillip straightened at that. “Like what?”

  Tabby took another bite of the soup while she grabbed at any idea that might entice him. “We could have a picnic by the pond and see the ducks.”

  Phillip’s eyes widened. “Can we feed them?”

  Tabby nodded. “And perhaps there might be some cake left from Captain Ashbrook’s tea that I could bring.” Mrs. Bunting always had some sweets or treats lying around that Tabby would be allowed to procure for their picnic.

  “Cake?” Phillip beamed.

  Tears came to Tabby’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Phillip was thrilled over a simple picnic and the hope of some cake. It was dispiriting to see how far they had fallen, but Tabby brushed aside the melancholy to grasp at the gratitude she felt at bringing a bit of joy to her son’s life—however small.

  As Phillip finished his meal, Tabby spun more stories of what they would do together, filling his head with dreams she hoped she could recreate.

  ***

  Tabby stood at the window, staring out at the darkness. Joshua was still not home. She paced, desperate to make a decision but unsure of what to do. Phillip was already asleep in the loft, and she needed to return to work. Tabby could not leave her son alone, but she had no idea where her husband had gotten to. With only a quick word of goodbye, he had slunk out the door moments after Tabby had arrived. She could only wonder where he had disappeared to, and none of her wonderings were encouraging. Joshua knew she needed to leave, yet night was moving quickly to morning, and Joshua was nowhere to be seen.

  There was nothing to be done but throw herself on the mercy of her neighbor.

  Tabby slipped on her spencer and grabbed her reticule. And stopped. Lifting the small pouch, Tabby realized it was lighter than when she had arrived. Ripping open the drawstrings, she found it empty. Every last coin was gone.

  Several of Captain Ashbrook’s more colorful curses came to mind as she wished her husband to the infernal pits of hell. That money was meant to care for their son, and he was likely spending it all on drink and cards. If it were not for the coins she kept hidden at Gladwell House, every last cent of theirs would be gone. That was meant to be the beginnings of their savings, but it would be their lifeline now.

  How she wanted to shout and rail against the man for his selfishness, but Tabby was standing alone with an empty reticule, a sleeping son, and no time to waste. Shoving such thoughts aside, Tabby needed to move forward. There was no point in dwelling on Joshua’s faults at present. She needed to return to Gladwell House or their family would have nothing. Putting on her bonnet, Tabby crept up the stairs and lifted Phillip onto her shoulder; her exhausted body staggered under his dead weight.

  Tabby carried Phillip out of the cottage and towards Mrs. Allen’s home. For a few coins, the woman had watched over the boy while Joshua was frequently indisposed, Tabby could only hope that she would be able to do so again.

 
“Mrs. Russell?” answered Mrs. Allen when Tabby knocked on her door.

  “I hate to bother you, but I came to beg your assistance,” said Tabby. She took a quick moment to rein in her emotions before explaining the situation. Mrs. Allen was already well aware of the issues the Russells were facing, but it was a new low to have to plead for help when Phillip’s own father should be here. And to do so without compensation to offer up was doubly shaming.

  “I can’t be taking in all the neighborhood strays,” said Mrs. Allen, crossing her arms.

  “I realize that I am putting you in an imposition,” said Tabby, “but I don’t know what else to do.”

  Heaving a sigh that conveyed just how enormous a burden Tabby was asking, Mrs. Allen took Phillip into her arms. The child stirred at the jostling, but she hushed him. “I’ll take him, but you best pay me double next time.”

  “Double?”

  “For the imposition,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  Tabby’s head dropped. She hated the thought of leaving her son with such a sour person, but there was no choice. She tried to reassure herself that leaving him with Mrs. Allen was better than him being alone, but it was not much of a comfort. He should be with his father at home, but that was not possible at present, and Tabby had no other recourse than to accept the reality before her as she turned away from the forlorn cottages and began the trek to Gladwell House.

  Chapter 8

  Graham drew back his covers and pointed his toes. His right side was finally improving after the fever, while the left was stiff from disuse. Shifting his legs, he tested them and found nothing but a dull ache. It had been a fortnight since the fever, and there were no signs of another recurrence and no reason not to attempt walking. Fortune favors the bold, and all that.