by Jo Ann Brown
“Yes.” She squared her shoulders and looked at him directly. “Now tell me what has brought you to Cothaire this morning, Lord Warrick. I know you are a busy man, and I doubt this is a social call.”
“I would like to ask you if... That is...” He was making a muddle of what should be a simple request. Taking a deep breath, he sat once more facing Lady Caroline and placed the teething stick on a table by his chair. He kept his voice even as he said, “I need your help.”
“My help? With what?”
“Please hear me out before you give me an answer, my lady.” When she nodded, words spewed from his lips before he lost the courage to say them. “My family is coming to Warrick Hall for the Christmas holiday.”
“How wonderful!”
He kept his smile in place. Wonderful was not the way he would describe the visit, because his stepmother loved drama and excitement while he preferred quiet for his writing and other long hours of work. “It would be wonderful if Warrick Hall was in any condition to receive guests.”
“That does present a problem, but we would be glad to have your guests stay here with us. We have plenty of room, and it is a short drive from here to Warrick Hall.”
“Thank you, but my family will expect to stay at Warrick Hall.”
“Of course.” She paused when the baby chirped. Lifting Joy, she set the squirming baby in her lap. “Forgive me, my lord, but I am confused. Will you explain how I can help you?”
He appreciated her getting right to the point. He would do the same. “I need help in redoing Warrick Hall so it is ready for my family. I suspect there is enough furniture in the attics, but I have no idea what pieces to use or how to arrange it. Nor do I have any idea which colors to use to repaint. Will you help me?” He jabbed at his spectacles, pushing them up his nose, and held his breath.
If Lady Caroline did not agree to assist him, he had no idea where to turn next to keep his stepmother from interfering in his life with disastrous results...again.
* * *
Caroline Trelawney Dowling struggled not to grin at Jacob Warrick. The baron was not as tall as her brothers, but of above-average height. His hair was ruddy-brown, his jaw firm and his face well-sculpted. However, the first thing she always noticed was his brass spectacles slipping down his nose. When she had been told he was calling, she had never guessed he would make a request that could gratify a craving in her heart. She had been struggling in recent months not to be envious when her younger brothers and sister began creating homes of their own. She had not realized how much she wanted to do the same. Cothaire had been her responsibility for the past five years, but that changed when her brother Arthur, Lord Trelawney, had married.
Even though she would always have a place to live at Cothaire, Caroline had been shunted from her position as the great house’s chatelaine. Not that Arthur’s wife, Maris, was anything but the epitome of kindness. She sought Caroline’s advice regularly. However, the household now looked to Maris for direction, not Caroline. It was as it should be; still, Caroline longed for a house to make into a home.
Now Lord Warrick was here with an offer for her to help him do exactly that with dilapidated Warrick Hall. Assisting him to make the old manor house comfortable for his family would show her father she should be allowed to renovate a house in the village for her, Gil and Joy. At last, she would have the snug cottage she had hoped to share with her late husband John and their children.
That dream had died along with John when his ship sank. Even before then, because she had been told by the local midwife the chances of her becoming pregnant diminished as each month passed and she did not conceive. She had continued to pray for as long as John was alive that she would someday hold their baby in her arms. Others wondered why she had not remarried in the years since his death, but how could she wed when she might never be able to give her husband a child? She had sensed John’s disappointment each month, and she did not want ever to hurt someone she loved like that again. It was better she remained unmarried and found a small home of her own in the village.
She looked at Joy who took a block from Gil, then let it fall to the floor as she giggled. God had heard her prayer and brought children into her life in a way she could not have imagined. And now He was answering another prayer from deep within her heart by giving her the chance to help Lord Warrick with renovating Warrick Hall.
“I would be glad to do what I can,” she said, proud how serene her voice sounded when her thoughts were whirling like a tempest.
Lord Warrick’s hazel eyes widened behind his brass spectacles. “Really?”
She smiled. “Yes, really.”
A flush rose from his collar. “My lady, I didn’t mean to suggest you would speak anything but the truth. I admit I expected you to demur because you would be busy with holiday preparations at Cothaire.”
“Our New Year’s Eve gathering has been held for so many years, everyone knows what to do in preparation.” She did not add that many of the tasks she had done in previous years would now be assumed by the new Lady Trelawney.
Joy cried and raised her hands. Caroline picked up the baby, who was growing rapidly and getting plump. She had guessed the baby was little more than a newborn when Joy was rescued along with five other children at the end of summer. In the past few weeks, Joy had begun to act a couple of months older than anyone had assumed. She pulled herself up on anything and anyone, and she made jabbering sounds, which had earned her the nickname of “little monkey” from Father. Soon she would start saying real words. Caroline wondered what Joy’s first word would be. She secretly hoped it would be “Mama.”
“When does your family arrive?” Caroline asked the baron.
“In about a month. Will that be enough time?”
“It must be, because it is all we have.” She stood as the baby gave a sharp cry. Reaching for the teething stick on the table next to Lord Warrick’s chair, she nearly bumped her nose into his as he came to his feet. He leaned away, and she snatched the teething stick from the table. She handed it to Joy, not looking at the baron. She hoped her face was not as red as his had been a moment ago.
Caroline froze at a distant rumble. The glass in the garden doors rattled sharply.
“What was that?” she asked as Gil jumped to his feet and ran to hide his face in her skirt.
“It sounded like thunder,” Lord Warrick said, lines of bafflement threading across his forehead. “But the sky is clear.”
“Storms can come up quickly at this time of year.” She did not add more as Joy cried out in pain. She put the baby to her shoulder and patted Joy’s back. The little girl flung aside the teething stick and began chewing on a seam along Caroline’s shawl.
“One more thing, my lady,” he said, clearly trying not to look at the widening spot of damp from the baby’s drool on her shawl. “I have no doubts my family will wish to entertain while they are here. Because of that, I must ask another favor. Will you help me learn the niceties and duties of a host so I can avoid any mistakes that might embarrass my family?”
Caroline blinked once, then twice, then a third time. “You want me to teach you the proper graces of Society?”
“Yes, if you are willing.” His unsteady smile warned her how important this request was.
Why? She wanted to ask that question but swallowed it unspoken. Lord Warrick’s explanation did not ring true for her. Other than his late uncle, no member of his family was of the ton, so why would they expect him to know the complex intricacies of the Beau Monde when, as far as she knew, he had never been to London or even attended many gatherings in Cornwall? There must be some other, more important reason he was not sharing with her, but asking that would prove her own manners were beneath reproach.
She could think of many reasons to say no. She needed to discover the truth about the children. She needed to spend time with Joy and
Gil and her family, both its longtime members and its newest ones. That was very important, because she had no idea how much longer the children would be in her life.
Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. The verse from Proverbs, one of John’s favorites, burst out of her memory. She had the time and ability to help Lord Warrick with both of his requests, and, to own the truth, she was thrilled to have the chance to see inside ancient Warrick Hall.
Gil took advantage of her silence to go to Lord Warrick and, grinning, hand him a wooden horse.
“Thank you, young man,” the baron said.
“You welcome.” Running to the other toys, Gil began piling blocks one on top of the other.
“You have taught him well,” Lord Warrick said, drawing her gaze to him. “Would it be any different to teach me?”
“Of course, it would be different. He is a child.”
“And I am as a child when it comes to etiquette. You have seen that yourself.” He held up his hand. “You need not be polite and try to deny it, my lady. I saw the truth on your face when I made blunders upon my arrival today.”
“If I made you feel uncomfortable or appeared judgmental, I am sorry.”
He crowed, “There!”
“There what?” she asked, confused.
“What you said.” He set the toy horse on the floor near Gil, and the little boy pretended it was galloping along a road of blocks. “Gracious and kind. I want to learn how to be as eloquent and cordial in social situations. Will you help me?”
“I will try.” She did not hesitate before she went on, “May I ask you for a favor in return?”
“Whatever you wish.” His words were casual, but she sensed an undertone of tension in them. What was he hiding?
“You know we are searching for the children’s families and are desperate to discover why they were left in a wobbly boat.”
“And by whom, so you know who was heartless,” Lord Warrick said, his voice as serious as a magistrate handing down justice. “I will be happy to do whatever I can to help in the search.”
She nodded, glad he understood. She could not imagine leaving six small, very active children in a tiny boat. Any of them could have tipped it over, and they would have drowned.
“Thank you.” She was happy to have someone else involved in the search that had been fruitless for more than four months.
“So?”
Caroline was startled by Lord Warrick’s abrupt question. “Pardon me?”
“Which lesson shall you give me first?”
“You want to start now?”
“Why not?” He gave her a grin that reminded her of Gil when the little boy was trying to wheedle her into reading him another story before bed. “Perhaps you can begin with what I should have done when I came into the room today.”
“As you wish.” She bent to put Joy down, but halted when the floor rocked under her feet.
Thunder erupted around her. So loud she could not hear the baby cry, even though the little girl’s open mouth was close to her ear. Gil threw himself against her. His small hands grasped her skirt again, holding on as if for his very life.
Broader hands tugged her to the floor that spasmed beneath her. Lord Warrick! He gripped the chair beside her with both hands. His arms surrounded her and the children.
The cacophony receded enough to let her hear the children’s frightened shrieks. She gathered them both closer to her, wanting to shield them from whatever was happening.
A warm breath brushed her ear. She started to turn her head, but a firm hand clasped her chin, holding her in place as Lord Warrick warned, “Wait. It may not be over.”
Was he shouting or whispering? She could not tell.
“What may not be over?” she asked.
His answer vanished beneath another swell of chaotic noise. The glass in the garden doors exploded inward into sharp splinters. She ducked, pulling the children and him toward the floor with her.
What was going on?
Chapter Two
The din rolled away, fading like distant thunder. Beside Caroline, a lamp slid off the table, cracking and spreading oil into the rug. A pair of painted porcelain spaniels bounced across the mantel. One shattered as it hit the hearth, the other remained, hanging precariously, on the very edge of the mantel. Books crashed to the floor.
Joy shrieked in her arms, and Gil babbled in terror. She cuddled them close. Their heartbeats were as rapid as her own.
“Lady Caroline?” asked a taut voice.
She raised her head slowly and looked around. Every book had tumbled off the shelves along the far wall. Ornaments set on shelves or hanging on the walls were now on the floor. Most were broken. Paintings had fallen, too, and frames were chipped and awry. Glass from the garden doors lay splintered on the floor or glittering on the furniture.
“Lord Warrick, please take Gil,” she said.
“Where?” He lowered his arms from around them and drew back.
“Pick him up and keep him away from the glass.”
The little boy yelped when he was tugged away from her, but Lord Warrick said, “Come and help me save that dog on the mantel, young man.”
Caroline rose as far as her knees while the baron went with Gil to push the porcelain spaniel from the edge of the mantel. The room was a mess. What about the rest of the house? Had anyone been hurt?
As if she had asked aloud, Lord Warrick asked, “Are you unharmed, my lady?”
“Yes. You?”
“Relatively.”
She faced him and gasped when she saw blood trickling down his left cheek.
“Lady Caroline, what is wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her side. “Are you injured?”
“No, but you are!”
“Ouchie,” Gil said, poking at the baron’s face.
Lord Warrick gently took the little boy’s finger and moved it away from his cut cheek. Pulling out a handkerchief, he ripped off a piece and pressed it to the laceration where drying blood would hold it in place. “I was nicked by flying glass. Nothing to worry about.”
The door flew open, and her older brother, Arthur, burst in, shouting, “Carrie, are you in here?”
“Over here.” She stood, careful not to put her hand out to steady herself when her knees wobbled beneath her. Broken glass covered every surface. She felt the oddest need to weep as her brother used the nickname he had given her when he was unable to say her name as a youngster. She had not realized how fearful she was for her family’s safety. “Are we under attack again?”
It was not a frivolous question. Cornwall was in a precarious position in the midst of a war being fought on two fronts, Napoleon to the east and the Americans to the west. Most of the French fleet had been destroyed or captured at Trafalgar seven years before, but pirates flying the French flag haunted the Cornish coast. There were rampant rumors of Americans harassing shipping, as well.
“No ships have been sighted in the cove.” Her brother’s black brows lowered when he glanced toward their neighbor. “Warrick, you are bleeding.”
“I know. It is nothing.” Lord Warrick dismissed Arthur’s concern as he had Caroline’s. He took a step toward them but paused when glass cracked beneath his boots. “Anyone badly hurt?”
“Our butler, Baricoat, was going upstairs when the biggest blast hit the house. He twisted his wrist badly when he tried to grab the banister.” He grinned swiftly. “As you can guess, he is not letting that slow him down.” His smile faded as he added, “The house has suffered the most. Windows facing the moor have been shattered throughout Cothaire. Any that are seaward are intact.”
“The village?” Caroline whispered, her voice trembling as much as her knees.
“I sent a few men from the stables as
well as the footmen to check on the villagers. They have instructions to visit the parsonage and Susanna’s house, as well.”
“Thank you.” Again she could not speak very loud. Their younger brother, Raymond, was the local parson and lived in the parsonage with his wife and a child who had been on the same rickety boat as Gil and Joy. She prayed they, along with Susanna, the youngest of the Trelawney family, and her husband and everyone at her house around the curve of the cove were safe and unhurt.
“Maris is working with Mrs. Hitchens to check that we have enough medical supplies.” Arthur’s gaze cut to Lord Warrick. “Mrs. Hitchens is our housekeeper. What of your people? Do you think you will need help? I was told several people saw a bright flash up on the moor.”
Lord Warrick handed Gil to her startled brother. The baron muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath, then added a hasty apology with a glance in her direction.
“You know what happened.” Caroline did not make it a question, because, in spite of his unpolished manners, Lord Warrick must have been furious to allow such a phrase to slip out when she and the children were nearby.
“Not for sure yet.” He ground out the words past clenched teeth. “But I intend to discover as quickly as humanly possible. If you will excuse me...”
“No.”
“No?” he repeated at the same time as Arthur asked, “Carrie?”
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
The baron frowned. “My lady, though I understand your need to ease your curiosity about what has occurred, under these circumstances, the mines are no place for a woman.”
“You said you don’t know for sure what the explosion was.” She held up her hand before he could retort. “There must be anxious families at the mine. Allow me to see to them while you investigate the explosions.”
“Arguing will gain you nothing with my stubborn sister,” Arthur said, shifting Gil to hold the wiggling boy more securely.