by Cheryl Bolen
It pleased her that he took pleasure in her body. Even though she was alone there in the parterre garden, her mind and body filled with the feel of James, and color rose in her cheeks as she remembered how greedily she hungered after her husband and his body that brought her such pleasure. If only she could be more reserved—and less like the kept woman she once had been. Though even with Gregory—whom she had loved wrecklessly—she had never been so abandoned, so uninhibited as she was with her husband. James's very touch was a potent aphrodisiac to her. Nay, even the sound of his voice sent her heart racing.
Throughout the afternoon, she busied herself in the garden. She removed the spent growth from the rhododendrons. She planted sweet alyssum. She enriched the soil. And she savored the feel of the sun.
As she worked in the garden, four Covington brothers came strolling up toward Yarmouth. Seeing them and recognizing them off in the distance, Carlotta got up and met them in the park.
“Have you come to play with my son?” she asked.
“Aye,” the eldest replied, his glance darting from her to the huge, four-storied manor house.
“Follow me, if you will,” she said. “Should you like to see the house?”
The boy, dressed in clean homespun, shrugged. “We might be too dirty.”
“Nonsense! Come in,” she said, striding to the tall doorway and entering. She instructed the footman to find Master Stevie and inform him he had callers. Then Carlotta gave the boys a quick tour of the rooms which were located directly off the entry hallway.
By the time she was finished, Stevie had come downstairs and happily greeted his new friends, all of whom were bigger than he.
“It's a lovely day to be outdoors,” Carlotta said to the lads. “Stevie, why do you not take your friends to see the mews?”
“We've got eleven horses—and one pony,” Stevie said proudly as he turned to exit the house, the four taller boys following him.
Carlotta looked up to see Miss Kenworth standing behind Stevie.
“Should you like me to go with them?” Miss Kenworth asked.
“I dare say that won't be necessary. The Covington lads seem mature enough.”
“Praise the good Lord Master Stephen's so much more well behaved than my brother was,” Miss Kenworth said, pressing her hands to her hips. “Imagine, if you will, a son coming on the heels of four sisters! To say that my mother—and the rest of us for that matter—spoiled my little brother is an understatement. I dare say David thought there was nothing he could not get away with, and I daresay there was nothing he wouldn't try to get away with! Not at all like Master Stevie, who's sweet through and through.”
Carlotta beamed. Stevie's goodness must have come from his father. “I wish I could take credit for my son's admirable traits, if indeed he does possess them, but alas, I cannot. As you must know, my son spent his formative years with my grandmother, who is the woman who also raised me as a mother would have.”
Carlotta cleared her throat, then told Miss Kenworth something she had never told anyone before, not even James. “You see, my first husband's death left me almost penniless. I thought Stevie would be better off with my grandmother, whose own funds were rather limited. I had decided I would snare a husband in order to regain my son and to be able to raise him as the grandson of an earl ought to be raised.
“What I never imagined was that it would be six long years before I received a proposal of marriage. And, I assure you, I never imagined that proposal would come from an earl—or from a man whom I would come to love so dearly.” Carlotta's face colored. “Oh, dear, I'm blabbering my dreary life to you, telling you far more than you ever wanted to know, I dare say.”
“Not at all, my lady. I love fairy book romances like yours and the earl's.”
Fairy book romance? It was all Carlotta could do not to burst into laughter.
“I must say, I've never seen a man more in love than the earl appear to be with you.”
Carlotta's stomach fluttered. Perhaps the poor girl needed Mr. Fordyce's spectacles! “I should like to think there's truth in what you say,” Carlotta said, pulling off her gardening gloves. “Tell me, did you and Mr. Fordyce enjoy your walk the other day?”
Now it was Miss Kenworth who blushed. “I can't speak for Mr. Fordyce, but for myself it was most enjoyable. Mr. Fordyce is a decidedly interesting, intelligent man.”
“I certainly appreciated the way he handled Stevie with the sparrow.”
“He made me feel like a raving imbecile,” Miss Kenworth said. “Why I never gave a thought to freeing the bird, I do not know!”
“Sometimes it just takes another person's perspective to see what should be as plain as the noses on our faces.”
“Aye, that it does.”
Carlotta glanced at the window. “'Tis another lovely day. Why do you and Mr. Fordyce not take another walk? I dare say Stevie will be busy with his new friends until dinner.”
“I couldn't impose of Mr. Fordyce. He has very important work to attend.”
Carlotta sighed. “I suppose I'll have to once again order him to take time to smell the roses.” She began to walk toward the library. “Come along. I think it is very good that you have another young person who speaks in the same tongue as you, so to say.”
Miss Kenworth laughed. “To be sure. I've not yet learned to understand this Somerset dialect.”
“I suppose they think their speech is closer to a Devonshire dialect.”
“Coming from Middlesex, I know neither.”
Carlotta pressed open the swirling bookcase and came presently into Mr. Fordyce's office.
He stood to greet the ladies.
“My dear Mr. Fordyce, can you not guess why we're here?” Carlotta asked him.
His eyes flashed for a second, then he was mute, shaking his head.
“'Tis another beautiful spring day, and my son has left Miss Kenworth in order to play with some neighboring lads. I desire that you amuse dear Miss Kenworth.”
He glanced from Carlotta to Miss Kenworth. “I should not wish to disappoint you, my lady.”
* * *
When Carlotta came down to dinner that night, James was not at the table. Her heart sank with disappointment. Since they had started sharing a bed, her husband had only been absent from their dinner table one night. She liked to think he was beginning to enjoy being in her company as much as she enjoyed being in his.
“Has my husband taken a tray in the library tonight?” she asked one of the footmen.
“No, my lady.”
“Do you know what time he came home?”
The second footman shrugged. “To my knowledge, his lordship has not returned.”
Carlotta's eyes rounded. Not returned? Why, it had been dark for over an hour! Surely James would not think of riding home over this rough terrain in the dark! Now she was going to be excessively worried about him. As if his insistence on going to the mines had not already caused her enough grief!
She was mad enough to scream like a banshee at him whenever he did return. Besides her worry, Carlotta hated eating alone. It quite made her lose her appetite.
The other footman moved closer and handed her the salver of buttered lobster, and she filled her plate from it and the smaller dishes which were close at hand. With each bite she took, her worry over James mounted.
She looked up at the nearest footman. “Would you instruct Adams to let me know when his lordship arrives home?”
Nodding, he scurried from the room.
Carlotta attempted to empty her plate but found she had lost her appetite. With every tick of the clock, her worry over James increased. Throughout the day her stomach had knotted when she had thought of him being down in those wretched mines, and now that he had not come home . . . Where was he? Had he, perhaps, been injured in a fall from his horse? Why, in heaven's name, had he been foolish enough to try riding these hills at night? Her chest tightened. What if he was not riding home? What if there had been a accident at the mines?
/> Her fingers gripped her wine glass. Perhaps she should send out a search party. It wasn't at all like James to be gone this late. He was far too intelligent not to know the dangers of Exmoor—and the Bagworthy Woods—at night.
She looked at the clock on the mantel. 'Twas half past six. If he had not returned by seven, she would send out all the servants of Yarmouth to seek their master.
The very thought of James being hurt sent waves of fear rushing over her. She began to tremble and her heart drummed in a deep, frightening rhythm.
She pushed her plate away and rose from the table.
“Her ladyship does not wish the second course served?” the footman asked.
She shook her head. “I'm not hungry.” Then she swept from the room. She went first to the foot of the stairs, which was near the front door, and met the gaze of the footman who stood there.
He shook his head solemnly. “Lord Rutledge has not returned.”
Biting her lip, she nodded and strode down the marble hallway to James's library. She left the library door open so she would hear James when he came home. Then she began to pace from one end of the Turkey carpet to the other. Every few minutes she would stop to read titles on row after row of gold-lettered book spines. Then she would commence pacing again, her heart racing madly, her hands trembling, her fears growing.
She glanced at the clock above the library's fireplace. Twenty more minutes until the hour. Then she would not hesitate to order everyone at Yarmouth to go out searching for their master.
As she paced, her eyes filled with tears, but she would not allow them to slip from her eyes. James wouldn't like that. And, she thought with a gush of emotion, James was, after all, her master.
The hands on the clock moved so slowly, Carlotta began to wonder if the clock were broken. As soon as she would decide to monitor it, the long hand would swing to another minute. Soon it will be seven of the clock.
By the time it was two minutes to seven, Carlotta lost all patience. She fled the room and began to gather up the servants. “I'm much concerned about Lord Rutledge,” she told them once all of them were assembled in the central hall. “He should have been home by now, and I'm afraid he's come to harm. It isn't like him to stay from home so late. I desire that you pair up and head in the direction of the mines to seek Lord Rutledge.”
As Carlotta spoke, a heavy knock thundered at the front door. The footman whose task it was to answer the front door started in its direction, but she swept past him and threw open the door.
She thought her heart would explode when she saw the black-faced miner standing before her. He inclined his head, then began to address her. “I'm sorry for bein' so late, but his lordship wouldn't allow us to come through these parts by horse at night. . .”
His lordship! At least James was alive!
“. . . Seeing as he's down in the pit, he didn't know when it became dark, and he feared ye'd be worried when he hadn't arrived home by dinner. . .”
She wanted to yell at the man to get on with it! Why wasn't her husband home?
“There's been an accident at the mine,” he finally said.
“James!” she shrieked. 'Twas like a knife tearing into her heart. “What's happened to my husband?”
“Lord Rutledge is unharmed. There's been a cave-in, and two miners have been trapped. His lordship's been down there working to free them.”
“How long ago was the accident?”
The miner's eyes flickered with fear. “Just as we was gathering up our things to go home.”
Carlotta stiffened. Cut off from ventilation, the stranded pair of miners would surely be dead now. Yet James refused to give up. All she could think of was that she had to get James out of there.
“I beg that you take me back with you,” she said.
Chapter 25
Before Carlotta raced upstairs to fetch her pelisse, cloak and gloves and to change into sturdy boots, she sent Adams to request that Mr. Fordyce accompany her to the mine. During every step up the stairs, while lacing her boots and grabbing the cloak, her heart drummed with worry over James.
As soon as her boots were tied, she flew down the stairs, where Mr. Fordyce, surrounded by more than a dozen liveried footmen, awaited.
“All the men wish to be of assistance at the mines,” Mr. Fordyce said.
Carlotta glanced at the black-faced miner, who stood in his shirt sleeves just inside the doorway. He nodded. “Aye, all the extra hands would be appreciated.”
“Then hurry and fetch coats!” Carlotta snapped. “It's cold in these hills at night, and we don't need any of you coming down with lung fever.”
Next, she directed her attention to the miner. “Pray, how long did it take you to reach Yarmouth?”
He shrugged. “I was movin' at a right steady clip. I'd say it took me half of an hour.”
Carlotta was horribly impatient to take off to the mines. “What's your name?”
“Matthew.”
“Come, Matthew. Let us be off. The others will catch up.”
The three of them left Yarmouth Hall on swift feet. As soon as they had cleared the hall, a gust of wind caught Carlotta's hair, blowing it across her face. She pushed it aside to restore her vision, not that one could see particularly well in the darkness. She looked up into the black sky to confirm there was no more than a sliver of moon tonight.
The wind continued to rip and howl from the north, cutting into her. She gathered her cloak around her and pulled its hood over her head, but was otherwise oblivious to her discomfort. Her every thought centered on James and the unthinkable danger that surrounded him. I've got to persuade him to get out of there!
She could not remember ever being so scared in her entire life. She couldn't lose James. Not now. Now that she had discovered how dearly she loved him. Not after all these years of struggle and loneliness. Now that her dreams had come true. All but one, but even that she would gladly forego to have her husband alive and healthy.
Both men who walked with her were solicitous of her comfort and safety, but she was determined not to hold them back. Even if her legs were shorter and her constitution more delicate, she vowed to keep up with them.
Soon she heard the deep voices of the throng of footmen who had chosen to come to the miner's aid, and she decided to make it a competition of her own not to allow them to pass her. No matter how cold or how fatigued she would become, she would not let down.
The moors at night were eerie and full of creature noises. Carlotta was thankful—though still not entirely comfortable—that she was surrounded by men.
Soon they cleared the moors and were mounting a heath that turned into a forest. If she had found the moors eerie, walking through a forest at night was fraught with fear. Nocturnal creatures with their glowing eyes had always frightened her, and though they did their best to flee from her now, she was still keenly aware of their presence. She was also frightened of what she would see past each tree trunk. Added to her imagined fears was the real threat of stumbling over thick, above-ground roots or any of the heaps of irregular organic matter that lined the floor of the forest. But her greatest fear of all was fear for her husband.
“Take my hand, my lady,” Fordyce said to her, holding out his hand.
She gratefully took it. Each step, now, felt more secure. If only she could feel secure about James's safety. She continued on through the wood, and though her face stung from the cold and her leg muscles burned from the unaccustomed strain, she refused to allow herself to slow down.
After half an hour, they cleared the woods, and the miner told them they were almost there.
Within minutes, she heard the churning of the huge wheel beside the stream, and she started to run toward the mine.
As she came up, the captain, his grim face almost unrecognizable with the black, was emerging from the mine. “Lady Rutledge!” He ran a quizzing glance over her.
She did not at all like the solemn look on the man's face. “My husband? Is he all right?”
Her brows lowered with concern, and she spoke softly. “Any luck?”
He sadly shook his head.
“It seems to me if there's already been one cave-in, things have got to be unstable,” Carlotta said, her voice trembling with fear. “Can't you get him out of there?”
“There's not a man among us who wants to leave our men down there without hope.”
Her eyes moistened. “Surely you can't possibly hold out any hope? How long now have those men been without air?”
He shrugged, and she saw the pain on his face. “We can't give up hope.”
She began to wring her gloved hands. I must get James out of there! How selfish she must seem when two other men—men who also had wives who loved them—were surely dead now. She met the captain's somber gaze. “Tell me, Mr. Hastings, do you honestly hold out hope for the two men?”
He glanced away and slowly shook his head.
“Then why not recover their bodies by daylight tomorrow? Why continue to jeopardize my husband—and others' husbands—tonight?”
“It's not my decision to make, Lady Rutledge. I take all my orders from Lord Rutledge, and he's the one who will not give up.”
She had been so worried about James she had failed to notice that entire families of women and children had assembled around the mine. A glance at them made Carlotta feel wretchedly guilty. Then she heard a familiar woman's voice and looked to see Mrs. MacGinnis and a bevy of maids and cooks from Yarmouth Hall coming up, laden with baskets and looking exhausted. Thank goodness, her housekeeper had thought to bring provisions. Carlotta herself had been too upset to think rationally.
“Servants from Yarmouth have brought food—and hopefully drink—for your men and their families,” Carlotta said to the captain.
She turned toward the mine shaft. “Now, if you will, please take me down into the pit.”
* * *
For the last hour, James had known his frantic digging and reinforcing, digging and reinforcing would not save his men. By now, they were long dead. He not only felt their loss keenly, but his heart bled for their families. Loving wives and much-loved children. He swallowed hard, then with his hands coiled tightly around the handle, he heaved the pick into the cold stone.