Her Secondhand Groom

by Rose Gordon

  All three girls came to an abrupt halt and stared at her. As the dust settled down a bit, Juliet noticed two men coming from the side of the carriage, one of them looking much worse for the wear. “Excuse me,” she croaked before clearing her throat. “Sir, is it common practice for you to let your children run in the road unattended?”

  The man who looked far more dirty and worn out looked at her with eyes so dark brown they almost looked black. “That is none of your concern, madam.” His tone cold and hard, decidedly unfriendly.

  Undeterred, Juliet put her hands on her hips. “You cannot just let your children run rampant, sir. A carriage could just whip around that corner and run right over them.”

  The rude man snorted. “Doubtful,” he muttered. “Anyway, we’d hear them.”

  Now she snorted. “No you wouldn’t have. You couldn’t possibly hear anything over all the melee they were making.”

  The girls’ father crossed his arms and stared at Juliet in a way that made her feel vulnerable and naked beneath his gaze. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said firmly.

  His eyes never left hers. “Since you think you can supervise them better are you volunteering for the post?”

  Juliet stared blankly at him. “No, sir.”

  “Very interesting, and what if Viscount Drakley asked you, would you do it then?”

  Juliet’s blood drained from her face and nearly turned to ice. She’d never actually met Viscount Drakely before, but she knew enough about him and his position over her family that if he asked her to jump over the moon, she’d better find a way to do it. “Well then, if Lord Drakely asked me to watch his children, I would.” She cautiously eyed his dirty disheveled clothes and his mussed hair. “However,” she continued, her voice returning to its regular strength, “since you are not Viscount Drakely, I have no reason to agree to watch your children, sir.”

  Rocking back on his heels, he drawled, “Allow me to inform you that you are in the presence of K. Patrick Ludwig Ramsey, Viscount Drakely.”

  The breath caught in Juliet’s throat. This was not a good sign. Viscount Drakely was rumored to be a very nice, but stern man. As a child she’d always wondered how he could possibly be both. But as an adult she knew. He was nice as long as your rents were paid on time and you weren’t known for causing trouble. But for those who caused trouble in the viscountcy or fell behind on their rents, he was not so friendly. Not that she’d heard of him throwing people out on their ears for missing a month or being late, but he made it known he ruled his lands with a firm hand and wasn’t afraid to confront anyone.

  “It’s seldom I render anyone speechless,” Lord Drakely drawled again, staring at her in a way that made her wish the ground would open in front of her and swallow her whole.

  Steeling her spine, Juliet glanced down at his filthy children. “Come along, girls,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster. “You can join us on our walk.”

  “That would be most excellent.” The tone of Lord Drakely’s voice made Juliet stiffen. Did the man truly mean to leave his daughters in the care of the first female he found? Apparently so because he cleared his throat and said, “Go on, girls I’ll come by Miss…”

  “Hughes,” Juliet supplied tightly.

  “Right, Miss Hughes. I’ll come by Miss Hughes’ cottage to collect you as soon as the carriage is mended.”

  Juliet’s jaw dropped. “And just how long do you think that’ll be?” When he didn’t say a word, but continued to stare at her with a cocked head, she added, “My lord.”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, and contorted his face into a careless, overdone frown. His entire demeanor was considerably more agreeable now. That was probably because he knew he wasn’t going to have to spend his afternoon with that pack of hyenas he called children. “An hour. Maybe two.”

  Juliet nodded woodenly. She could watch them for an hour or two. It wasn’t going to harm her to do so. She’d just have to think of something to keep them occupied, that’s all. Looking at the dirty little girls, she extended her hand in their direction and rolled her wrist. “Come along, then. I think we have some biscuits and milk at home.”

  At that, the youngest girl ran to her side as if she’d been searching for Juliet her whole life.

  Juliet smiled at the young girl and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Even if she was covered head to toe in dirt and had an ogre for a father, she was still adorable.

  “Go on, girls,” Lord Drakely encouraged the other two girls who looked hesitantly at Juliet and her little company of brothers and sisters.

  Smiling warmly at the two older girls, Juliet waited until they joined the ranks before calling her direction back to Lord Drakely and instructing the children to walk down the lane.

  Juliet’s eyes roved over the girls, they were all very attractive girls with black hair like their father’s and wide, hazel eyes. They’d certainly have their pick of suitors, as long as their father didn’t scare them all away.

  “What kind of biscuits do you got?” the littlest girl asked, licking her lips.

  “We have several kinds, actually. My guess is you’d like the ones with ginger in them,” Juliet said with a grin.

  The little girl nodded excitedly and returned Juliet’s grin. “Ginger biscuits are my favorite.”

  “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure you get your fill.”

  Chapter 2

  Patrick had never wished he were anywhere else so badly in his life. The sun was setting and his carriage was just now rolling down the lane that led to the Hughes’ cottage. He yanked his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his sweaty forehead. Repairing a carriage in the hot sun while his blasted coachman stared at him was hard work. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, and for the fifteenth time today alone contemplated sacking Cruxley. The man was worthless. Except when it came to driving the coach. He could do that task fairly well. Oh, who was he fooling? The man couldn’t even drive the carriage correctly. The thing was always getting stuck in ruts, and if Patrick didn’t know better he’d swear Cruxley deliberately drove it over every rock, stick, hole, tree root, and small animal he could find. Riding in a carriage driven by Cruxley was the equivalent to being shaken wildly for no good reason.

  A thin smile took his lips. At least his girls enjoyed Cruxley’s awful driving. They always seemed to smile and squeal when they’d go over an exceptionally large object that would make them bounce out of their seats. Shaking his head, he pulled back the edges of the curtains and saw a quaint, but in dire need of repair, cottage. He sighed and closed the curtains before leaning his head back against the squabs. Leave it to Mr. Hughes to make his gigantic family live in such a meager place. The man was in a terrible financial state to say the least.

  Almost ten years ago, Ian Hughes approached him about a loan. A loan which was never repaid, if Patrick remembered right. At the time, Patrick had just married Abigail and when Mr. Hughes explained to Abigail and him why he wanted the money, Abigail agreed before Patrick could refuse. Not that he still couldn’t have refused the man, of course. The money was his to lend or spend as he saw fit, but if lending money to a man so one of his countless daughters could go to a girls’ school in London for whatever reason was what Abigail wanted, he was happy to oblige. The fact that the money hadn’t been paid back only further convinced Patrick of the Hughes’ meager means.

  The carriage came to an abrupt stop and Patrick held onto his seat so he wouldn’t be thrown to the floor. Climbing out of the carriage, he heard so much noise coming from inside the cottage; he was rather shocked the bricks didn’t crumble on the spot.

  Patrick ran his hand through his already unkempt hair. There was no need to bang on the door, nobody would hear him, and so he let himself in and walked in the direction of the racket. Blinking to let his eyes get adjusted to the room, Patrick stood stock-still just inside the door as two wild boys came running straight at him. Instinctively, he mo
ved out of their way at the last minute and tripped over a small animal. Putting his hand on the wall next to him to keep from falling over, Patrick’s eyes landed on Kate who was sitting on Miss Hughes’ lap while Miss Hughes read to her from a book.

  A chorus of high pitched giggles caught his attention, and he turned to see Celia and Helena playing with the other Hughes girls. Unable to stop himself, he smiled. For all the chaos that was going on in this house―and nobody could deny the only word to describe it was chaos―there was also a lot of fun being had, too. And fun was something his daughters were sorely lacking.

  Stepping carefully so not to trod on anything or anyone, Patrick made his way over to the settee where Kate was sitting on Miss Hughes’ lap and sat down.

  Miss Hughes looked at him with a thin, brittle smile, and he could have sworn she muttered something about it being about time.

  He chuckled. “Are you ready to go, Kate?” he asked, ignoring Miss Hughes altogether. She might not be a looker who demanded the attention of men everywhere she went, but he was nearly certain she could level a set down on a man that would make him think twice about ever crossing her again. Of course, he was the lord and it was in his right to throw out bothersome tenants, but he couldn’t blame her for being irritated with him. He’d said an hour, maybe two, and it had only been a fraction past that. He almost snorted. If he were honest, he’d have to admit that it hadn’t been a fraction past that. Instead, it had been more than double that. He glanced at her and felt a sliver of remorse for her. He was getting a headache after spending four minutes in this madhouse; she must be ready to start gulping laudanum after four hours.

  “I like it here, Papa,” Kate said, wiggling on Miss Hughes’ lap.

  Miss Hughes looked down at Kate and gave her a light squeeze. “It looks like it’s time for you to go home.”

  “Do I have to?”

  Nodding, Miss Hughes pushed a lock of brownish-blonde hair that had escaped her coiffure behind her ear. “Yes. But maybe you could come another day.”

  Kate’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Do you mean it?”

  Miss Hughes smiled down at her. “If it’s all right with your papa you may come again.”

  “Can I come? Can I come?” Kate asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

  Smiling at his daughter, Patrick said, “We’ll see.”

  Kate’s head dropped sadly. “That means no.”

  Wisely, Miss Hughes didn’t voice a comment on that. Patrick stood and walked over to where Celia and Helena were playing. “All right, time to say goodbye.”

  Startled, Helena looked up at him. “Oh, that was quick.”

  Patrick blinked. Quick? He hadn’t been quick at all. “Yes, well, tell your friend goodbye, it’s time to go.”

  “Can we come back again tomorrow?” Celia asked, her eyes full of excitement.

  “Uh…”

  “No,” Kate supplied, coming up beside him. Her little arms were folded across her chest and her lower lip had the slightest tremble.

  Pushing aside an inkling of guilt, Patrick cleared his throat and announced, “It’s time to go, now. Tell everyone goodbye.” Reluctantly, the girls did as they were told while he stepped aside to go speak with Miss Hughes. “Thank you for watching them,” he said earnestly.

  “You’re welcome, my lord.”

  He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the little bag where he kept his coins. Loosening the string, he held the bag in his right hand and dumped a few coins into his left palm. Satisfied with the amount, he put the bag of coins back into his pocket and held his palm full of coins out to Miss Hughes. “For your trouble.”

  Behind the thickest set of spectacles he’d ever seen, her grey eyes flashed with what he thought might be rage. “It was no trouble, my lord,” she said flatly, shaking her head in refusal.

  Frowning, Patrick cupped his hand and shook it. The change in his palm clanged and clattered. “I’m sure it was trouble, and you deserve to be compensated.”

  “Apply it toward the debt my father owes you,” she said without much emotion.

  He had to stop himself from commenting about her naivety to think that would make any kind of significance toward the debt her father owed. He set the coins down on the nearest surface and shoved his hands in his pockets. Her father’s agreement with him wasn’t her responsibility. “How is your sister doing? She’ll be coming out soon, won’t she?”

  Miss Hughes’ face turned a pale pink as she fidgeted and broke eye contact with him. He followed her gaze to where another young lady reclined on a nearby sofa. She had so many pillows stuffed behind her she looked like she was sitting at a forty five degree angle. This must be the sister who went away, he thought with a slight nod in her direction. She was certainly a beauty with her dark hair, sweet face, and delicate features. She’d have all the men trailing her skirts within days of her come out.

  Just as he was about to greet this young woman and ask her how she was enjoying attending school in London, Helena pulled on his hand. “We’re ready now, Papa.”

  Flashing one last smile at the room full of noisy urchins and the two Misses Hughes, Patrick turned to open the door so he and his girls could file out.

  “Papa, we had the best afternoon ever,” Celia squealed as soon as the carriage door closed.

  “You did?” Patrick queried as he lifted one eyebrow.

  Helena and Celia vigorously nodded their reply.

  Patrick shook his head. Having grown up without any other children around, Patrick found himself oddly curious as to how that noisy bunch could possibly constitute the best day ever. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Do you want to tell me what you did that made the afternoon so special?”

  Nine-year old Celia tucked her legs under her bottom and giggled. “Juliet let us try on her sister’s hats!”

  Patrick nodded. Lady Sinclair and Lady Watson used to let the girls do the same thing. Of course if he were to ask, he’d bet they’d allow the girls to come over for tea and to try on their hats and shawls again. But probably not as often as they once did. They were married now, after all. “Anything else?”

  Helena reached behind her and grabbed a little bound book of what he thought to be blank paper. “We learned our letters,” she said proudly as she flipped open the book and shoved the page she wanted him to see right in his face.

  Blinking, Patrick’s eyes scanned the lines. Sure enough, five sets of twenty six letters were scrolled perfectly on the page. With a slight nod of approval, he flipped the page and saw another five sets of letters. Flipping the page again, he saw another, slightly messier set. “Perhaps I should have left her a bit more.”

  Celia nodded. “We could go back tomorrow so you could pay her.”

  Grinning, Patrick shook his head. “Don’t think for one minute I don’t know what you’re about,” he teased before snapping the book shut and setting it down beside him. “Did you like Miss Hughes?” He only asked to help fill the silence, at least that’s what he told himself.

  “Of course, we did,” Helena informed him, reaching up to grab her braid. “Look, Juliet even braided my hair for me.”

  “Are you saying Mrs. Jenkins doesn’t do it to your satisfaction?”

  “No,” all three of them said at once.

  He chuckled. Mrs. Jenkins was originally their nursemaid and after they’d all outgrown the nursery, Mrs. Jenkins just seemed to keep her post. Not that he’d tried very diligently to find a suitable governess to replace her, mind you.

  “Hmm,” he said, cocking his head to the right side as an idea popped into his head. “Did Miss Hughes―the one who helped you with your letters―happen to mention how long she’d be in residence?”

  “No, why?” Celia asked, her lips tipping up into a smile that resembled her mother's.

  Swallowing hard, Patrick tore his eyes from her. All three of them resembled Abigail so much that at times it hurt to look at them. “No reason,” he answered gruffly. There was no point in getting them
excited about the plan that was forming in his head. Only a few months ago when he’d allowed the newly styled Lady Sinclair to act as their governess for a week, the girls had been beside themselves with excitement hoping the arrangement would become permanent. But that wasn’t meant to be. So he knew it best to keep his current thoughts to himself.

  An hour later, the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of Briar Creek. After helping his daughters down and sending them off with Mrs. Jenkins, Patrick walked to his study and plopped down into his most comfortable chair. Drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk, Patrick let his mind ruminate about the little kernel of brilliance that had planted itself in his head during his carriage ride home, and about an hour later, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

  With any luck, Mr. Hughes would see the sense in his plan and Patrick and Miss Hughes would find themselves affianced.

  With another stroke of luck, they could be married by the weekend.

  Chapter 3

  Juliet stretched her arms way up over the top of her head and yawned. Nothing felt better than a good stretch in the morning. She put her arms back down and rolled into a sitting position with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the cold stone floor and she involuntarily shivered. Forcing herself to keep her feet planted on the floor so they’d adjust to the cold stone, she reached over to her nightstand and blindly groped for her spectacles. Just before nearly knocking them to the floor, her fingers closed around one of the stems. She put them on and stood to start dressing.

  She glanced outside her window as she made her way to the wardrobe she shared with Henrietta. The sun was nearly up. She sighed. Once again she’d slept too long to be able to go for a walk before everyone would expect breakfast. She pulled out a tan day dress that reminded her more of a maid’s outfit than anything else. Pushing aside the thought, she dressed and left her room as quietly as she could so not to wake her sister who was still slumbering and would probably continue to do so until noon.