Bound by One Scandalous Night

by Diane Gaston

  The ribbons won and the prize money awarded were incidental to the showing off of the stock. When the sales began in the afternoon, excitement reached a fevered pitch. All the breeders wanted to buy the best at the lowest price and to sell their best at the highest.

  This market scene had become familiar enough to Edmund that he could pay attention to more of the details. The prices bandied around began to stick in his head, and he began to know the probable worth of the ewes and tups by their appearance.

  He carefully watched Reid’s dealings with the other sheep farmers and paid particular attention to the amounts Reid spent and how much he earned. The transactions were quickly made, but Edmund was able to take them all in, unlike those first market days when it had all been a blur.

  He stood next to Reid as he sold a ewe. Edmund heard the price and saw the money change hands. The transaction was quick, but Edmund saw Reid record it in his pocket book, only he put in a smaller amount. He glimpsed the receipt that Reid gave the other breeder, and it was for that same smaller amount.

  ‘Did you write down the wrong amount?’ he asked Reid.

  Reid’s eyes flashed at him, but he soon seemed to recover. ‘Don’t be daft,’ Reid said. ‘You misheard, is all.’

  On a purchase, Edmund watched closely. Reid listed the amount he spent as more than he and the man agreed upon. The receipt the man wrote was for the larger amount, even though that was not the amount they’d spoken about.

  This time he did not question Reid, but he caught him in similar irregularities throughout the afternoon. It looked to him that Reid made more than he documented and paid less than he documented. Where was the extra money going? In Reid’s pocket?

  He did not want to believe this. He liked the man and had come to trust in his honesty.

  Before he left the market, Edmund spoke with several of the breeders, asking them how the costs of the sheep had changed in the last year. He was lucky that, to the man, they could tell him what they paid for sheep and how much they’d sold them for a year ago. He memorised the amounts.

  They rode back on the Cumbrian heavy horses that all the farmers owned in this part of England.

  ‘How would you say the sales went today?’ Edmund asked Reid.

  ‘I’d say very well. It’s been a good year for the farm,’ Reid spoke with pride in his voice.

  ‘How did the prices compare to last year’s?’ Edmund asked. ‘What prices were you seeing last year?’

  Reid hesitated before answering much more tentatively than the other breeders had done, but Edmund noted what he’d said.

  He could still be wrong. He prayed he was.

  * * *

  When they reached the farm, it was dark. Edmund bid Reid good-night and went into the house.

  One of the new footmen was attending the hall. ‘Evening, sir. How was the sale?’

  Everyone had an interest in the sale of sheep. Their livelihoods depended upon it, if only indirectly.

  He handed the man his hat and gloves. ‘It went well. Mr Reid was pleased at any rate.’ He removed his coat. ‘Would you brush out my coat, as well?’

  ‘Aye, sir. I will do it and be glad for the work.’ He grinned.

  These Lakeland servants knew nothing of the decorum of their London counterparts, but it was a difference Edmund found refreshing.

  ‘Thank you.’ He added, ‘Do you know where Mrs Summerfield is at the moment?’

  ‘I believe she retired to her bedchamber,’ the footman answered.

  Edmund reached for a taper from a candle box and lit it from one of the lamps. ‘I’ll be in the library for a little while. I won’t need you further, though, if you wish to leave the hall.’

  ‘Thank you, sir!’ The man grinned again.

  Edmund carried the taper to the library and lit the lamps on the table where the ledger books were stacked. He opened the book from last year and turned the pages until he came to the recordings for the market a year ago.

  The figures were roughly what Reid had said. The problem was, they were different from the numbers the other breeders had given him and in a pattern that was becoming sickeningly familiar. Reid recorded the sales low and the purchases high.

  Edmund rested his elbows on the table and hung his head in his hands. It looked as if Reid was systematically embezzling from the farm, taking money from Amelie’s father, who had given Edmund the right to act in his behalf.

  How he must act was now something he dreaded.

  He’d misjudged Reid, apparently. He did not misjudge people often, and he hated the idea of being deceived.

  He rubbed his face. How would it be if Amelie knew of this? She liked Reid. She hoped Sally would finally allow Reid to court her. She believed Reid to be a good man. Amelie’s trust in Edmund was shaky at present. He just could not yet tell her that another man with the appearance of honour had deceived them all.

  Not until he confronted Reid.

  * * *

  Edmund finally closed the ledger and lit the taper again before extinguishing the lamps. He left the library and made his way up the stairs to his bedchamber. He could see no light under Amelie’s door. Did that mean she was asleep in her own bed? He feared that would be the case. It seemed to him the only connection that still held them together was sharing a bed. Making love.

  He opened his door and was not surprised to see a lamp burning. The servants would have left one burning for him, knowing he was coming home late. He blew out the taper and left it on the table inside the door. As he walked into the room, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and untied his neckcloth.

  ‘It is late,’ he heard Amelie murmur. ‘Did the market last so long?’

  ‘I’ve been home a while,’ he said.

  She was in his bed and he was grateful for it. He crossed the room and gave her a kiss. On the lips this time. She accepted it but held back anything in return.

  ‘I’ve been in the library. I needed to see something in the ledgers,’ he explained.

  ‘What did you need to see in the ledgers?’

  He could almost hear what she did not say—what did you need that could not wait until morning?

  ‘Last year’s figures for this market,’ he said.

  ‘Whatever for?’

  He wanted to tell her, wanted to pour out his anger and disappointment at being so deceived by Reid. He wanted to say that he still could not believe Reid could do such a thing.

  But he didn’t. ‘I did not want to forget what I was told at the sale. I thought I’d forget if I waited until morning.’ This was all true. It was also true that he needed to know right away if his suspicions would be borne out.

  ‘It was that important?’ Her tone of voice was disapproving.

  He pulled off his boots and trousers. ‘It was.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So I would not forget.’ He walked over to the washbasin, washed his face and hands and brushed his teeth. As he walked back to the bed, he threw off his shirt. He collapsed onto the bed, suddenly exhausted.

  Amelie rose on one elbow. ‘You are not telling me something.’

  That was so. ‘Amelie, let us not debate this. I am tired.’

  ‘Very well.’ She pulled the covers up to her neck and rolled onto her side, facing away from him, not touching him at all.

  * * *

  Sally waited outside until Mr Reid and his men had placed all the sheep into pens and finished their work while everyone else on the farm was likely asleep. She figured that he would be the last to leave, and she was correct.

  He took one long glance back towards the house before turning and starting to walk to his cottage.

  She ran to catch up to him. ‘Mr Reid!’

  He stopped. ‘Miss Brown? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I waited for
you,’ she said, but she halted. ‘Unless—unless you do not wish for my company any longer.’

  He took quick strides to reach her side. ‘It is not that. It is just that it is cold out tonight and you should not get a chill, especially in your condition.’

  ‘It is not that cold,’ she said, although she had been shivering while waiting for him.

  ‘Why did you wish to see me, lass?’ he asked.

  ‘Today Mrs Summerfield and I went round to all the tenants’ houses and the farm workers’, and the wives all said the same about you. That you took care of their needs. That you were a good man, and one of the maids said that many of the young women around here would like you to be their husband.’

  He dipped his head. ‘I never knew that.’

  ‘She said it was so.’

  ‘And why did this make you wait for me?’ he asked.

  ‘I want to know why you picked me. You wanted to court me. At least you once wanted to. I want to know why.’

  ‘Why?’ He paused to think. ‘I am not sure why. You are pretty and sweet-tempered. You do not come from here and I find that captivating.’

  She felt her cheeks burn. ‘But you changed your mind about me, because of the baby, correct? I want to know for certain, and I promise I will never trouble you again if you tell me the truth.’

  He looked directly into her eyes. ‘I never said I lost interest in you, because I have not.’ He touched her arm. ‘I still want to court you, and I hope in time you will want to marry me.’

  ‘You would marry me knowing I carry another man’s child?’ She could not believe it even though she had come to this place to hear those very words.

  ‘Of course I would,’ he said. ‘I figure I can give the poor bairn my name and there would be no one to question it. If you want to pretend you are a widow and the baby is your dead husband’s, no harm done. It is very nearly the truth.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘That is what Mrs Summerfield would say.’

  ‘Come to my cottage,’ he said. ‘I’ll make you some tea and warm you up. You do not have to answer me now, but let me show you what sort of house I have and what sort of life you would live.’

  She was too shocked to say anything, but she walked with him to his cottage.

  * * *

  The next morning Amelie woke at the first light of dawn, filled with regret. She’d intended to welcome Edmund home from the market. She’d planned to erase these days of her foolish insistence that he tell her each and every feeling he had towards her, but then he’d been so evasive and secretive that her temper had been piqued. Imagine checking figures when he’d been away all day and when matters had been strained between them.

  She resolved to turn over a new leaf and stop being so high-handed about trifles.

  But a return to sleep eluded her. She slipped out of bed and went into her bedchamber for a wrapper. She put it on and decided to get some fresh air to clear her mind and to help her rid herself of these worries. She wanted things the way they were on those few days of bliss when she’d begun to believe they might eventually be happy.

  Amelie left her room and descended the stairs. She could hear the faint sounds of the house stirring, servants rising to begin the day. She had no wish to meet any of them and feel compelled to explain her early morning wanderings, so she hurried through the hall to the conservatory, still empty of plants.

  She noticed that the conservatory door was not locked, an oversight she must mention to Lloyd and Mrs Wood.

  Not that it mattered much. In London, perhaps, or even in the country where Northdon House was, but not here. There was nothing much worth stealing in the house and even if there were, the farm’s people were not so hungry they had to steal. On the contrary, they were well cared for.

  She crossed the lawn and took one of the paths that led up a hill. On her way she noticed a man and a woman walking toward the house. As they came closer she saw it was Sally and Mr Reid.

  Sally saw her and blanched. ‘Mrs Summerfield! I can explain!’

  ‘It is not how it appears, ma’am,’ Reid said.

  She ought to be appalled. She knew ladies of the ton who would fire a maid for less. Certainly those ladies would have fired Sally long ago. Amelie did not even care if it was exactly how it appeared, that they had spent the night together.

  She was merely happy for them.

  ‘Nothing happened, I swear it!’ Sally cried.

  Amelie directed her gaze at Mr Reid. ‘Tell me only what your intentions are toward Sally, sir.’

  ‘Why, to marry her,’ Reid said. ‘That has been my intention nearly from our first meeting.’

  She turned to Sally. ‘Will you marry him, then?’ If Sally said no, Amelie still would not desert her. Sally and her baby would be secure; she’d see to it.

  A rapturous look came over Sally’s face as she glanced at Mr Reid. ‘Oh, yes, ma’am. I will marry him. We’ll have the banns called as soon as we can.’

  Amelie smiled. ‘Then you need say no more. I wish you happy.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Summerfield!’ Sally hugged her, behaviour unheard of in a maid. ‘It is all going to be fine now!’

  How lucky Sally was. She would have a devoted husband...and a baby...and a good life, like the rest of the tenants’ and farm workers’ wives.

  Amelie hugged her back, feeling a thousand years older, although Sally was probably very close to her age. ‘I am happy for you both.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amelie walked the rest of the way back to the house with Sally, leaving Mr Reid whistling as he headed to the farm building.

  Sally rattled on about their plans, about how they had stayed up all night discussing them, about how lucky she felt to have met this good man.

  ‘His house is just what it ought to be,’ Sally said. ‘Very cosy and neat, but I think it will be very pretty with new curtains and such...’

  Amelie only half listened to her.

  She was happy for Sally, happy that Sally would get what Amelie had not. A respectable marriage. A baby. A home that was hers alone. A man who adored her.

  They entered the house and walked together up to Amelie’s bedchamber. Sally kept talking, all the while helping Amelie to dress. When the girl finally left with instructions to get some sleep, Amelie walked to the connecting door to Edmund’s room. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood and prayed she could somehow make amends for all her foolishness.

  She promised herself she would trust Edmund. He’d always done right by her.

  She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she heard from the other side.

  She opened the door.

  Edmund was almost dressed. The footman who had been assigned valet duties was helping him on with his coat. Edmund looked over at Amelie guardedly.

  She placed a smile on her face. ‘Good morning!’ she said cheerfully.

  The footman greeted her with a smile and a nod before leaving the room.

  ‘Good morning,’ Edmund said then.

  ‘I have so much to tell you!’ she said. ‘Some of it I must tell you before breakfast, because it is a secret.’

  He waited.

  She told herself not to be daunted by his reserve. She’d brought it on herself, after all.

  ‘It is exciting news!’ she went on. ‘Sally and Mr Reid are to be married.’

  His face turned stony. ‘Mr Reid?’

  ‘Yes.’ She turned to the window, because Edmund’s demeanour disturbed her and she did not want to give in to discouragement the way she had before. ‘Mr Reid took a fancy to her almost at first sight. And he knows about the baby. He even knows that Sally is not a widow.’ She glanced at the door, turning nervous because he was not at all acting as she expected. ‘Shall we go to br
eakfast?’

  He nodded and moved to escort her.

  ‘But you mustn’t tell anyone, because they will decide when to announce it.’

  ‘I will tell no one.’

  She peered at him. ‘Are you not happy for them?’

  He shook his head as if to rid it of a thought. ‘Forgive me. I was thinking about something else. I hope they know each other well enough.’

  What an odd thing for him to say. ‘We did not know each other at all,’ she murmured.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Of course we did not.’

  ‘Do you know something about Mr Reid that means he and Sally should not be wed?’ Sally should not be surprised the way she’d been surprised about Fowler.

  ‘I know nothing for certain,’ he said. ‘But if I hear something, Sally should know I will say so.’

  Amelie told herself to be contented with that response as they walked down the stairs to the dining room. Edmund seemed a world away. Sunlight streamed in the sparkling clean windows of the sitting room next to the conservatory, where the breakfast buffet was set out. Bread for toasting, slices of ham, kippers, eggs, butter and jam. Such a contrast to their first morning. There was even a footman in attendance.

  They selected their food and Amelie sat across from Edmund at a small table she’d found in the attic. The footman poured coffee for Edmund, tea for Amelie and retired from the room.

  Edmund was lost in his own thoughts.

  Amelie disliked the silence but was determined not to ask about it. Instead she said, ‘Would you like to hear about my visits with the tenants’ and farm workers’ wives yesterday?’

  He at least looked up at her and almost smiled. ‘Yes. I do want to hear it. Did it go well?’

  ‘I think it did mostly,’ she responded. ‘Some of the wives were cautious and polite, but no one had any complaints to speak of or anything they required that was not provided them. They credited Mr Reid with managing their needs very well.’

  ‘Mr Reid,’ he repeated almost in a whisper.