by Cheryl Holt
“We have to get moving,” Miss Boyle said, “or Captain Hastings will assume we’re sluggards. I’d like to be able to serve supper at eight o’clock—even though it’s our first night here. I’d like to prove we’re worth the bother of his taking us in.”
Laura nodded. It was a good plan. Brinley would only aggravate him, but Miss Boyle might please him.
Miss Boyle was reading the letter Captain Hastings had written. “He’s informed me of where to shop, and he’s supplied the name of the commandant’s wife. She assists new arrivals, so she can advise us as to where we can hire our servants.”
Laura thought servants would be a grand luxury. She’d lived with servants and without them, depending on Robert’s financial situation. They could be a benefit or they could be horrid.
Just so long as no one shouted at her, hit her, or cruelly teased her, she’d be fine. If they carried on in a dangerous or awful manner, she’d learned how to hide so they couldn’t locate her.
“Let’s be off, shall we?” Miss Boyle tugged on her bonnet and tied the bow under her chin.
She was so pretty, and Laura never grew tired of looking at her. Brinley was pretty too, but in a stark, severe way. She could be malicious and distracted too, could frighten Laura, then forget to come home, forget Laura might be worried, but Miss Boyle wasn’t like that.
She was simply beautiful. And kind. And polite.
“Once we’re outside,” Miss Boyle told her, “you have to pay attention to where we are and where we’ve been. When I was walking yesterday, I was completely turned around, and finally, I had to admit I was lost. It’s how I stumbled on Captain Hastings. He had to escort me to the hotel because I was so confused.”
Laura wouldn’t get lost. She wouldn’t allow Miss Boyle to get lost either. Laura never missed a single detail of what was occurring. If she wasn’t vigilant, there was no telling what might happen.
“Do you want your bonnet?” Miss Boyle asked. “The sun is terribly hot.”
Laura shook her head. She loved how the Gibraltar sun was always shining, heating her, so she felt warm for the first time ever.
Miss Boyle went to the door and motioned for Laura to follow. Laura didn’t hesitate.
CHAPTER FIVE
James walked into the house he was renting while he waited for his barracks to be rebuilt. It was very late, and he should have been home much earlier, but a horse had needed his attention, and the animals always took precedence. It’s why they trusted him and why the army kept him.
As the government cut back on troop levels, every man’s spot was in jeopardy. He would never supply anyone with a reason to decide he was expendable.
All was quiet, a candle burning on a table by the sofa, as if it had been left there just for him. It was a sweet gesture that pleased him in a way he chose to ignore.
Suddenly, Miss Boyle stepped from the shadows, and her appearance was so startling that he jumped.
“There you are, you rat,” she said, her tone scolding.
“I haven’t been in the door for two seconds. Why am I a rat?”
“I had planned to dawdle until midnight, but if you didn’t show your sorry face by then, I was going to bed.”
“Was I supposed to show my sorry face?”
“Yes, and don’t pretend to be unaware that I was expecting you.”
“You were?”
Her scowl was severe. “Did you, or did you not, ask me to run your house for you?”
“I remember something to that effect.”
“Well, to me, running it means I am in charge and I pick the rules. We’ll have supper at eight every evening, and you will be present for every meal.”
“Oh.”
“If I have to bother with you, the least you can do is be grateful for my efforts.”
“I am grateful.”
“As you have no clue what I’ve accomplished today, you couldn’t possibly be.”
“True.”
“I don’t imagine you’ve eaten, or if you have, lie to me and insist you’re starving.”
“I’m starving.”
“Come to the dining room then. I’ll feed you.” She stomped off, tossing over her shoulder, “Your food won’t be quite as appetizing as it would have been at eight o’clock, but if you’re hungry enough, I guess you’ll eat what I give you.”
He followed her into the small salon that hadn’t been used since he’d moved in. He and his roommates had only been lodged in the residence for two weeks. They were all bachelors and accustomed to fending for themselves, so they hadn’t established any routines or hired any servants.
She lit a lamp to reveal fine china carefully arranged, the best silverware, a crisp, white napkin, and wine poured in a glass. He gaped at it as if he’d never seen such a civilized spectacle before.
“Sit!” she said. He hesitated, and she motioned to his chair at the head of the table. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He went over and slunk down, and he realized he felt terribly guilty for disappointing her. Everything about the interval was odd. He lived in a world of men and always had. With Miss Boyle strutting and ordering him about, it seemed as if he’d fallen into an alternate universe where he had a wife and a home instead of a solitary existence and a military career. It was disconcerting and bewildering.
She huffed off to the kitchen, and he could hear her rummaging around. Then she returned with a tray that was laden with victuals: slices of roasted beef, stewed vegetables, various fruits, and even a piece of pie.
She tended him, dishing up his plate as if he were an invalid. He observed her, fascinated, until she’d finished, then she set it in front of him and eased down on a nearby chair.
“I had enough prepared to feed…well…an army,” she complained, “but your roommates didn’t show up either.”
“They fled.”
“Why?”
“I informed them I’d invited three females to join us, and they immediately found other accommodations.”
“You couldn’t have apprised me?”
“I didn’t think of it.”
He grabbed his fork, but couldn’t force himself to begin. He simply gawked at her.
“What’s wrong?” she said. “Don’t claim you don’t like what our new cook selected. If you try, I’ll rap your knuckles.”
He snorted. “You’re amazing, Miss Boyle.”
“Why? Because I managed to put some food onto a plate?”
“Yes. I haven’t had a woman fuss over me in…in…” He paused, then shrugged. “If I ever had a woman fuss, it was so long ago I can’t recall.”
“I’d feel sorry for you—if you hadn’t kept me waiting forever. Where have you been? You don’t smell like alcohol, which is a relief. I had angry visions of you staggering about at a tavern.”
“I’m not a drinker.”
“Thank goodness.”
“I was with my horses. One of them was sick.”
“You love your animals.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“How did you become so adept at handling them?”
“My father taught me. I grew up watching him.”
“He was a horse trainer too?”
“Among other things,” James cryptically muttered. “He was famous for his equestrian skills. I inherited his knack.”
“I saw you that afternoon at the corral. You’re incredibly amazing yourself.”
“Why, Miss Boyle, I believe that was a compliment.”
She waved to his plate. “Eat—so I’m not quite so aggravated with you. I spent all day getting ready to serve you your first meal, but you and your roommates didn’t arrive. I hate that I wasted money and effort on oblivious dolts who didn’t even notice. It’s really vexing me.”
“I had no idea you’d go to so much trouble on my behalf.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re a man.”
“You don’t have to spoil me.”
“Oh, be silent. This is how normal people carry on. They have supper at regular hours. They send a message when they’re late. I recognize that you’re a bachelor who’s never had to answer to anyone, but you’ve dragged me into your world, so now, you have to behave appropriately.”
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try, Captain Hastings.”
“I stand corrected.” He bit down a smirk and dug in, and the food was very tasty. “This is good. How did you stumble on a competent cook so fast?”
“I met a woman when I was running errands, and she loaned me a servant. I’ll have a few others in place by tomorrow.”
“You’re a veritable whirlwind, Miss Boyle.”
“Well, you may be content to live like a solitary nomad, but I’m not.”
She stood and puttered about, refilling his wine, refilling his plate. She clucked and hovered in a manner he figured would be annoying, but it was actually splendid.
For a fleeting moment, the thought rattled him that this was why a fellow married, so a pretty girl like Miss Boyle could brighten his life. It was a riveting notion that he swiftly shoved aside.
“Is my sister here?”
“Yes. She was in bed by ten.”
“How was she today?”
“She was fine. She went shopping, so I didn’t have to put up with her.”
“She went where?”
“Shopping. She came home with a stack of parcels.”
“She isn’t to leave the house.”
“I couldn’t stop her.”
“Where is she scrounging up her money, I wonder?”
He voiced the query more to himself than to her, and it was completely rhetorical. Who could guess how or why Brinley did anything?
But Miss Boyle replied, “I can’t imagine where she gets it, but she has a lot.”
“That news concerns me. As far as I know, she doesn’t have a penny to her name.”
“She’s not indigent,” Miss Boyle said. “At least she doesn’t appear to be.”
“I suppose I should talk to her about the source of her surprising wealth.”
“Yes, you should. In my view, you two have numerous matters to address.”
He finished and tossed down his fork. “What matters? I’m curious as to your opinion.”
“No, you’re not.”
She whisked away his dirty plate and utensils, then left him some pie. She carted the used items to the kitchen, while he ate his dessert by himself.
He kept watching for her though, peeking toward the door, listening for her footsteps in the hall. He was acting like one of his horses, his interest piqued and extreme.
She took her sweet time returning, and by then, he was relaxed in his chair, enjoying the last of his wine. She sat down and topped off his glass, then she poured a bit for herself. She extended her glass, and they clinked the rims together.
“What are we toasting?” he asked.
“Nothing special. It just seemed as if we should.”
“How about this? To us.”
She blanched. “Us? There is no us.”
“Yes, there is. We’ve joined forces and marched off in an entirely new direction. Who can predict where we’ll end up?”
“What new direction are we marching in?”
“You’re taking care of me. You’re managing my home. With three females in residence, I will have to start behaving like a normal human being. What changes will this render in your conduct?”
“Not much,” she said. “I expect I’ll carry on as I always have. I’ll tend you as I’ve always tended my brother. I’ll have plenty of practice for when he’s back.”
“Why have you never married, Miss Boyle?” It was a rude question, but he posed it anyway. “You seem to be the type who would.”
“Once previous, I thought it would happen.”
“You were engaged?”
“It wasn’t official.” She raised a brow. “We had an understanding.”
“Why would you call it an understanding? Since you didn’t wed, it’s obvious one of you was confused.”
She snorted with amusement. “He met someone else and married her instead.”
“How long did you wait for him to propose?”
“Four years.”
“Four years! He spurned you after all that time? What a cad.”
“In another circumstance, I might agree with you, but it’s hard to be a grouch about it. The young lady who stole him away was gorgeous and enchanting. If I’d been a man, I’d probably have spurned me too.”
“If you’d admit that, she must have been spectacular.”
“She was. She had an air about her that made her seem very vulnerable. Even my brother, Evan, was half in love with her. I couldn’t exude a vulnerable air if I tried, so if you’re ever hoping I’ll flatter you incessantly to get what I want, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
She finished her wine, and he was afraid she might announce she was off to bed, so he refilled her glass, praying she’d be too polite to walk off when there was more wine to drink. His ploy worked. She enjoyed a few sips.
“Who was this dastardly scoundrel?” he asked. “Might I know him?”
“Maybe. Peyton Prescott? He’s Lord Benton now. He finally inherited.”
“I do know him actually. We attended the same school as boys, and we were chums for awhile, but I lost track of him. Isn’t he in the navy?”
“He was, but he’s retired and moved home to become a farmer.”
“And a husband. How very dreary his life must be.”
“I think he’s happy—even though it annoys me to say it. After he tossed me over, I’d like to have had the satisfaction of him being miserable, but he’s blissfully delighted with his bride.”
He laughed, recognizing that he liked her very much, which was ridiculous and dangerous too. Until her brother returned or his sister left, they’d be thrown together in many intimate ways, and he was already speculating on how he could wrangle more evenings alone with her when it was very late and very quiet.
“Was there no other fellow to entice you besides Peyton?” he asked. “Or has he put you off matrimony completely?”
“I nearly wed this past winter, but at the last second, I didn’t.”
“At the last second? What is that supposed to mean? Some other cad jilted you? If that’s the case, I declare you to have the worst marital luck ever.”
She attempted to stifle a yawn, but didn’t succeed. “I can’t believe I mentioned it. I must be more exhausted than I realized.”
He nudged her foot with his boot. “Spit it out. You’ve dangled the subject, so I’ll be like a dog at a bone until you confide in me. I can be relentless.”
“It’s too embarrassing to recount. I’m anxious to forget it ever occurred.”
“Now you really have to unburden yourself.” He leaned in, his elbows on the table. “Spill all, Miss Boyle.”
He was a commanding, dominant person, and women never stood a chance against him. Her cheeks heated a deep shade of red as she said, “I almost eloped.”
“Honestly! Of all the admissions you could have tendered, that is the most shocking.”
“Don’t you dare tell anyone. If my brother found out, he’d kill me.”
“My lips are sealed, but you must explain what possessed you.”
“My mother died suddenly, and it pitched me into a downward spiral. I suffered a few months of temporary insanity. At least that’s how I’ve decided to view it.”
“I can’t picture you going mad—even temporarily.”
“That’s why it’s so mortifying to discuss.”
“Who was he? Is this someone else I might know?”
“I doubt it. He was flashy and charming, and girls hung on his every word.”
“You t
oo?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks reddened even further. “Gad, this is so humiliating.”
“Confession is good for the soul though. Isn’t that what the Catholics say?”
“Yes, but I’m not a Catholic.” Needing fortification, she downed a huge swallow of wine. “I met him at the public dances at Vauxhall.”
“You were frolicking at public dances? Miss Boyle, I’m not sure my poor heart can take the strain of these revelations.”
She smiled a delicious smile, and he let it envelop him like a cloud.
“It’s nice to talk about it for a change,” she said. “Since the debacle transpired, I’ve never mentioned it.”
“But what happened? You’re not a bride, so you obviously never went to Scotland.”
“I had made some new friends at the dances, and they were wilder than my old ones. They introduced me to him.”
“And…?”
“He pretended to be infatuated with me, and I was so pathetically desperate to feel less adrift. He suggested we elope, and I agreed. The whole thing was like a dream—or perhaps a nightmare.”
“Again, Miss Boyle, what happened?”
“He didn’t show up.”
James’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “You’re joking!”
“No. The morning we were to leave, he simply never arrived to whisk me away.”
“What became of him? Did you ever find out?”
“I didn’t try to find out. As I was reflecting on my actions, it occurred to me that I’d dodged a bullet.”
“Then you came to Gibraltar.”
“Yes, shortly afterward. The incident provided great evidence that I shouldn’t live on my own.”
“I should say not. Here I thought Brinley was the one to concern me. It turns out I’ll have to watch you like a hawk too.”
She grinned impishly. “I’ll do my best to behave.”
“You’d better. If you don’t, I’ll tell your brother. Is that a threat that would work on you?”
“Definitely,” she said.
“What was the fiend’s name?”
“Holden Cartwright?”
“Never heard of him.”
“I think he stole some jewelry from me too.” She winced, then groaned with dismay. “I can not believe I told you that.”