Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Lord Havelock's ListSaved by the Viking WarriorThe Pirate Hunter

by Annie Burrows

  * * *

  ‘I had no idea,’ he said, much later, once breakfast was ready and they could both sit down together, ‘that so much work was involved in just throwing a bit of breakfast together. And do you know, I don’t think I’ll be half so impatient about getting served in inns, after this. When I think of some of the insults I’ve heaped on waiters, when I’ve come in, sharp set...’ He shook his head ruefully, before breaking open a roll and slathering it with butter.

  He groaned, half closing his eyes as if in ecstasy.

  ‘That has to be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re a marvel.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m no marvel. You are simply very, very hungry. I don’t suppose you would think a simple bread roll would be all that delicious if you weren’t.’

  ‘That may be part of it,’ he agreed, reaching for another roll, a faint frown furrowing his forehead. ‘Perhaps I have fallen into the habit of taking such simple things for granted. But I shan’t any longer. And as for—’

  He’d just reached across the table to take her hand when there came a knock at the back door.

  Muttering under his breath, Lord Havelock strode across the room to answer the knock while she stood up and whipped off her apron.

  ‘Mornin’,’ said a short, wiry man who was knuckling his forehead.

  ‘Gilbey! Where the devil,’ snapped her husband, ‘have you been?’

  He then, belatedly, seemed to recall she was there. ‘Pardon my language,’ he said perfunctorily, over his shoulder at her, before waving his arm in her direction.

  ‘My wife, Lady Havelock,’ he said to the wiry man, who’d sidled in out of the cold.

  Out of habit, Mary dropped a curtsy, causing the wiry man’s shaggy eyebrows to shoot up his forehead.

  ‘This is my groom,’ said her husband with a touch of impatience. ‘You don’t need to curtsy to such as him. Now, you, explain yourself,’ he snapped, turning his attention back to the wiry man too quickly to notice Mary flinch.

  How could he reprove her like that? In the man’s hearing?

  ‘I expected to find you, and, more important, Lady and Lightning, in the stables when I got here last night,’ snapped Lord Havelock.

  ‘Well, when I got here yesterday, me lord, seeing as how there was nobody about, and the stables deserted, I thought it best to take them, and your chestnuts, to the nearest inn, make sure they was taken proper care of, like. And see if I could find out what was afoot here. Brought ’em back as soon as I’d made sure there would be proper provisions for them and knew as you’d arrived yourself.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ said Lord Havelock and stalked out into the yard, the groom trotting behind in his wake.

  Mary stood looking at the door for a moment or two, her mouth hanging open. Where had his appetite gone? He’d been complaining of hunger ever since they awoke. So hungry he’d even joked about trying the coal. But the moment he heard his horses had arrived they’d driven every other thought from his mind.

  He must care about them a lot, she decided, closing first her mouth, then the kitchen door through which he’d just vanished without a backward glance. She should have picked up on the clues the day before, when he admitted he’d had them travel by stages so as not to tire them, though he’d pushed her into making the entire journey in one go. And the way his face had fallen when she’d admitted she couldn’t ride.

  Which told her two things. First, he must have thought about going out riding with her. Not only thought about it, but looked forward to it, or he wouldn’t have looked so disappointed.

  And second, that she’d been right about his character. Even though Lord Havelock had looked as angry as she’d ever seen him, the groom hadn’t seemed the slightest bit scared of the way he’d shouted. He’d just stood there letting her husband rant a bit, then stated his case clearly.

  And her husband had listened.

  Just as he’d listened to her, when she’d stood up to him over the matter of their betrothal. He’d scared her a bit, back then, the way his anger had blown up seemingly out of nowhere. But it had blown out just as swiftly.

  Not that it excused him rebuking her in front of a third party. Her father had exercised that particular form of cruelty towards her mother, whittling her sense of worth down, insult by insult, until there had been nothing left but splinters.

  Well, she wasn’t going to let her husband do the same to her. Not that she really thought he was doing it deliberately.

  Nevertheless, she needed to take a stand, now, so that he would learn she wouldn’t tolerate such treatment.

  She strode to the dresser and took down another cup to set on the table. Outside staff generally came into the kitchen for their meals. Since there was nobody else to provide them, she would have to take on the task of feeding the groom.

  Even if her husband disapproved of her sitting at table with him.

  Well, she didn’t care if he did think she was committing yet another social faux pas by extending common humanity to the poor wretch, the way he’d done when she’d dropped that curtsy.

  Lifting her chin, she strode to the table and placed the cup down firmly before one of the empty chairs. She half hoped he did disapprove of her willingness to hobnob with a lowly groom. She went back to the dresser and picked up a plate, a knife and a fork with a toss of her head. For then he’d discover that he had most definitely not married a mouse.

  She set about preparing such a substantial meal that it was bound to earn his forgiveness, once she’d shown him that he couldn’t get away with trying to browbeat her in front of servants.

  * * *

  ‘You were right,’ said Lord Havelock, the moment he came back into the kitchen. She glanced up from the stove to assess his mood, before reaching for the kettle.

  ‘Was I?’ She poured water into the pot, noting that her hands were shaking as she braced herself to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. ‘What about?’

  She couldn’t see any sign of the anger that had driven him out to the stables, which must mean he was pleased with the condition of his horses, and had forgiven the groom for not being on hand the night before. She just hoped he’d be as quick to forgive her.

  ‘About the caretaker and his wife. Gilbey found out— Stop loitering there in the doorway, man,’ he barked at the groom over his shoulder. ‘Come in and shut it before you let all the heat out,’ he said, depriving her of the opportunity of inviting him in herself.

  The groom snatched off his hat, shuffled forward and closed the door behind him, while Lord Havelock sauntered over to the stove, holding out his hands to warm them.

  ‘Gilbey put up at the Dog and Ferret last night,’ he said. ‘The landlord told him that the Brownlows have gone away to visit relatives of some sort for the season. They don’t plan to come back until the twenty-eighth. It was a shock to everyone in the taproom to hear I’d come back, expecting to take up residence. God only knows where my letter to them has gone. Still at the receiving office, I shouldn’t wonder. Is that a fresh pot of tea? Capital.’

  To her intense irritation, he then pulled up a chair at the table and indicated the groom should do so, as well. Where had his insistence on keeping the groom in his place, and she in hers, gone? She was torn between wanting to hug him for being so affable, or slap him for depriving her of the opportunity to take a stand. In the end, all she did was pour both men a cup of tea.

  She’d have to find some other way of showing him he couldn’t speak to her like that. Only...if she launched into that kind of speech right now, wouldn’t she look a bit shrewish?

  ‘Looks as though my wife has cooked enough to feed an army,’ he said. Cheerfully.

  He clearly had no idea what he’d done to her.

  ‘And even if you’ve had something at the Dog and Ferret, you should at least
have a couple of these rolls,’ he said, putting some on a plate and pushing them over, with what looked suspiciously like...pride. ‘They’re first-rate.’

  No, she definitely couldn’t start complaining about the way he’d talked to her when he’d been in a temper, not when he was being so complimentary about her cooking. Lips pressed tightly together, she served both men with eggs and ham, then sank, deflated, on to her own seat.

  ‘Which leads me to the next question,’ said her husband, in between mouthfuls. ‘What are we going to do until the Brownlows return, my Lady Havelock?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  He wasn’t asking her opinion, was he? Men didn’t do that. So what was he about now? And why was he addressing her so formally? When all through the night he’d used her given name. Over and over again.

  Mary, he’d whispered into her ear.

  Mary... he’d growled.

  Oh, Mary... he’d moaned.

  Oh, it was all so confusing. He was confusing!

  ‘Well,’ he said very slowly, as though explaining to a child, ‘we could go and rack up at the Dog and Ferret. We’ll have plenty of food and a proper bed.’

  ‘If’n you don’t mind damp sheets and bedbugs,’ muttered Gilbey.

  ‘It doesn’t sound very...appealing,’ Mary agreed.

  ‘Trouble is,’ said her husband, ‘the only alternative is to remain here. And you’ve already discovered how uncomfortable this place is, too, without servants.’

  He laid down his knife and fork, and gave her a straight look.

  Both her husband and groom were watching her intently, she realised after a moment or two.

  Heavens, they really were waiting to hear what she thought. Her husband hadn’t just told her what the choices were, before telling her what he was going to do. He really was going to let her decide. Well, she’d wanted the chance to take a stand. And though it wasn’t exactly the topic she’d wanted to confront him about, it was better than nothing.

  ‘This is my home now,’ she therefore stated firmly. ‘I would much rather stay here and try to make the place a bit more comfortable, than throw myself on the mercy of a landlord who sounds as though he doesn’t care about the welfare of his guests one bit.’

  ‘Capital,’ he said, beaming at her as though she’d just said the very thing he was waiting to hear. ‘I didn’t really want you to have to put up with the rabble that frequent the Dog and Ferret. No offence to you, Gilbey.’

  ‘None taken. I’ve got no wish to go back there meself,’ he said, scratching his neck. ‘There’s the makings of decent quarters over the stables. Just want a bit of sorting, like.’

  ‘It’s the same with this house, I’m sure,’ said Mary.

  Lord Havelock frowned. ‘But you are going to have to do it single-handed. Da—dash it, this isn’t the Christmas I’d planned to give you,’ he said, slamming his half-emptied cup down on to the table. ‘But I will make it up to you, I swear. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, his face brightening. ‘I’ll go into the village and see if I can purchase the makings of Christmas dinner.’

  ‘That’s a very...’ she’d been going to say, a good idea. But he’d already reached the back door and was striding out into the yard.

  ‘That’s his lordship all over,’ said the groom, eyeing her astonishment with amusement. ‘Get’s a notion in his cockloft and don’t stop to consider if it’s even possible, never mind sensible.’

  ‘R-really?’ She hadn’t known him long, but, yes, she could well believe that he was the type of man to act on impulse, rather than planning anything in great detail. He was so full of energy. And with the kind of confidence that came from being both wealthy and having a secure position in society. Yes, he could very easily set off into the unknown, assuming that everything would work out well for him.

  Except when it had come to marriage. When he’d contemplated marriage, he’d sat down with a group of friends and got them to help him plan it all out down to the last detail.

  Which only went to show how hard it must have been for a man who was used to doing as he pleased, whenever he pleased, to shackle himself to just one woman.

  She supposed she ought to look upon his making of that list as a symptom of his determination to get it right. She’d seen several examples of that determination. That drive to do his best. Though it still hurt to read herself, the wife, described in such terms.

  ‘I’d best get back to the stables, if you will excuse me,’ said Gilbey, getting to his feet. ‘Unless there’s anything you want helping with, in the way of heavy work?’

  ‘That’s very good of you, but I won’t know until I’ve taken a good look about the place, to see what wants doing.’

  ‘Ah, you’re just what his lordship needs,’ observed the groom with a knowing air. ‘Sensible. And calm. Begging yer pardon for speaking so free, but...’ He twisted his hat between his rather grubby fingers. ‘You oughtn’t to listen to those who will tell you he’s wild. Or worry about his temper,’ he said knowingly.

  ‘I don’t,’ she replied firmly. She hadn’t been afraid of him since...since...

  Actually, she hadn’t ever been really afraid of him. Nervous, yes, of the pull he exerted over her. Scared of her reactions to him. But of him, not really ever.

  ‘Sure, he’s fought his duels,’ Gilbey added. ‘But he’s a good lad, at heart.’

  ‘Duels? He’s fought duels?’

  ‘He didn’t mean no harm by them,’ hastily put in the groom. ‘It’s just, he ain’t never had nobody, not since his mother passed, to care what he did, one way or another, y’see. ’Twill make all the difference to him, to have someone steady, to be his...well, his anchor, like,’ he finished gruffly, before slapping the hat on his head and scuttling off out of the door.

  She reached for her cup of tea and took a long, sustaining drink. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she could see exactly how her husband could have stumbled into fighting a duel or two. Not only did he have a hair-trigger temper, but he also had a highly developed sense of his own honour. Only look at the way he’d reacted when she’d assumed he’d been making her an insulting proposition.

  He’d calmed down as soon as she’d explained herself, though. Which only went to prove that whoever he’d fought hadn’t attempted to apologise. So if he had shot them, it was entirely their own fault.

  He was good at heart, the groom had insisted. And gone on to talk about Lord Havelock’s mother. Which showed he’d stayed with the family for years, as well as sort of proving his point. Servants didn’t stay with cruel masters. She should know. They’d gone through dozens of servants during the time they’d been able to afford to pay their wages.

  Besides, she’d seen many instances of his deep-down goodness. Only look at the way he’d set to work hauling water for her. Or going to fetch coal in the middle of the night, shirtless, and come back shivering rather than deprive her of the warmth of his coat. Or let her sleep as long as she wanted, even though he wanted his breakfast.

  She drained the cup and set it down on the table.

  But what impressed her most of all was the way he’d apologised. And tried to make amends for all that had gone wrong. He’d even gone charging off, just now, to buy food in an attempt to make it up to her.

  A smile played about her lips as she recalled the look on his face when he’d set off to the village as if he could purchase the answer to all his problems there. It was sweet of him, but she could think of far better ways he could make it up to her, if his conscience was troubling him.

  None of which involved him buying anything at all.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Duck,’ he announced, some hours later, as he came in the door.

  ‘Why, are you going to throw something?’

  ‘Ha ha,’ he said. ‘Very droll. T
hough I just might, if you provoke me like that, you minx. Anyway, what I meant is, I’ve got a duck for Christmas dinner,’ announced her husband with pride as Gilbey followed him into the kitchen, carrying a game bag. ‘And a meat pie for tonight. There is cake, and fruit, too.’

  ‘All...all in that sack?’ Oh, dear.

  Gilbey solemnly laid the bag on the kitchen table and opened the tie at the neck. The first thing to come out of it was the pie. The crust was a little the worse for wear, but it was definitely still edible. As were the apples that had done most of the damage, to judge from the amount of gravy coating them.

  ‘Apples in gravy, how...novel,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Is there gravy on the cake, too? No. Oh, well...’ she sighed as she lifted it out and set it to one side ‘...I suppose I can bear to eat it without.’

  ‘Now look here,’ snapped her husband. ‘I had the devil of a job to get hold of this little lot. You wouldn’t believe the haggling I had to do.’

  ‘I’m very grateful,’ she said soothingly. ‘This is the makings of a true feast.’ It really was. She’d been worrying, ever since he’d set off in such a hurry, that he’d come back with all sorts of ridiculously inappropriate things. But in the event, the only thing he hadn’t got quite right was the method of bringing everything home.

  ‘I shall have no qualms about sending you shopping in future.’ Although she might hand him a shopping basket rather than let him snatch up a game bag, as if he was going out shooting.

  ‘Shopping,’ he cried indignantly, planting his fists on his hips. ‘That was not shopping. That was...foraging.’

  ‘I see. Well, in that case, I have to say I am impressed by your foraging skills. In fact, I think you would make a good soldier.’

  He would certainly look good in a uniform. All that scarlet cloth stretched across his broad shoulders, with a sword dangling from his slender hips to complete the very picture of masculine perfection....

  ‘A soldier, eh?’