by Dawn Brower
“Very well, milord,” Mr. Robbins answered.
With that affirmation Collin left the man to his work. He would start sending for supplies on the morrow after he had the list to work with. He might have to wait a sennight for the work to begin in truth, but he didn’t have to wait to do something to help start the repairs. It would make him feel as if he were actually doing something productive.
He went to the small stable, a building that also had no need for restorations. The blasted estate manager had had two priorities, it seemed. His cottage and the stable… Collin would need to hire workers for the entire household once it was repaired. Luckily, he could see to his immediate needs. He saddled his own horse and kept him groomed. He debated whether he should go for a ride as he’d said or opt for a walk. “Do you want some exercise, boy?”
His horse snorted and lifted his head as if to say, “Yes, you imbecile.”
“Very well,” he said and then laughed. It was the first bit of joy he truly felt since he arrived in Peacehaven. Collin went and retrieved the saddle. He took his horse out of the stall and then tied him to the hitching post. Collin retrieved the saddle from where he’d set it and placed it on the horse. It didn’t take him long to prepare the stallion. Once finished, he mounted the horse and then pressed his knee into his side.
He used his horse mostly for riding and had had one of his Uncle Charles’s grooms deliver him after arriving in Peacehaven. He had his matched greys that he used to travel in his curricle. He planned on staying in Peacehaven for some time and wanted to have some comforts while there. He didn’t know if he’d need a carriage, but wanted to be prepared either way.
Collin was lost in thought. He kept the horse at a leisurely walk as he rode the outskirts of his property. Before long, he reached the pond on the back half of his property. Someone must have decided to have a picnic there and they hadn’t noticed his approach. Perhaps he should…investigate.
Charlotte stared at her notebook and frowned. She had finally managed to get her muse to talk to her, but it was a slow painful process. The words came. She hated them all. None of it seemed worth showing anyone, and she was tempted to tear out the pages and burn them. That seemed a little dramatic though, so she refrained. It was a start, and she’d instead use them as inspiration to do better. Some words written were far better than no words at all.
She’d had the cook pack her a cold picnic to take with her. It had been her plan to spend some time outdoors and write as much as possible. So far, she’d done nothing but nibble on a piece of cheese and stare at the pond. Well, when she wasn’t staring at her notebook in anger at her ineptness. Sometimes she even stopped to curse her mother and father for sending her to this inspiration stealing place. None of it helped.
“Surely it cannot be as bad as all that,” a man said in amusement, effectively bringing her back to reality.
Charlotte lifted her hand and used it as a shade over her eyes as she stared up at him. He was on a fine stallion with a rich mahogany coat and black mane and tail. The gentleman’s golden hair shined brightly in the late April sunlight. It was a warm day for April, but he still wore a waistcoat and jacket. She didn’t blame him. The wind could be biting, especially while riding. “Good afternoon, Lord Frossly,” she greeted him. A twinge of happiness spread through her at the sight of him. He was handsome and she wanted to spend some time with him. She wasn’t certain how to do that in the course of her day. It wasn’t as if she could pay a call on him. He was a bachelor without much of a residence to entertain in. “And I must beg to differ. How would you have any inkling how terrible it is without discerning the truth of it?”
He lifted a brow. “You’re quite right, my lady,” he agreed, and then slid off his horse. He tied the reins to a low branch on a nearby tree. Once that task was completed, he strolled to her side and gestured toward the blue and white checkered blanket she lounged on. “May I join you?”
She couldn’t very well tell him no. It would be quite rude, and she suspected the pond was on his property. She could not be certain, but either way, she wanted to have his company. Writing was not going well, and she needed a distraction. “I’d be delighted to have you entertain me.”
“I never promised I’d be diverting,” he said disagreeably, but sat on the blanket anyway.
He had seemed disturbed from the moment she met him. Oh, he’d been affable, even helpful; however, he had a sadness that covered him like a blanket he could not shake off. Sometimes Charlotte wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug the sorrow away. She doubted he’d be grateful though, so she refrained. “I’d like the companionship either way.” She gestured toward the picnic basket. “Have you eaten an afternoon meal? There’s plenty of food. I think Cook believed she was packing for a party of four or more.” Lord Frossly stared at the basket for several moments. What did he think was inside, something poisonous? “I promise it is all edible.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “I, unfortunately, am in a terrible mood. I’ll try to be more sociable.”
“It might help to discuss it.” She nearly groaned. Why did she have to go ahead and offer to listen again? He’d reacted badly the last time she’d suggested it. She hoped he wouldn’t turn into a bigger grouch.
He met her gaze. “I should start with apologizing for my behavior in the bookstore,” he began. “I’ve had nothing but horrid news since my arrival, and it keeps getting worse with each passing day. I took my frustration out on you and should not have done so.”
“You’re forgiven.” She could be congenial, and it helped that his grumpiness had nothing to do with her. It wasn’t as if she had been innocent. “I’ve had bad days myself. I believe that means we’re…normal.” She flashed him a bright smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my lord. We all have days we wish we could go back and change. In time, your woes will become easier. At least that is what I keep telling myself. We have to find joy where we can.”
“You are right.” He smiled softly. “Thank you for understanding. I must admit something to you.”
“Oh?” She furrowed her brows. “From your tone, I probably will not like it.”
“You may not,” he agreed. “It is a confession, after all. Nothing good usually comes of them.”
“Very well.” She motioned toward him with a flick of her hand. “Spill your secrets and unburden yourself.”
Charlotte probably should be concerned about his admission. If it was about her, it would unlikely be anything good. If it helped him to open up to her though, she’d encourage it.
“The day your carriage wheel broke…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. “It was not the first time I’ve come across you.”
“I don’t recall ever being introduced.” She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes a moment. Charlotte thought long and hard but could not place him at any social gathering. She was quite active in society and thought she’d been introduced to almost any marriageable gentleman. “No. I am certain we’ve never met.”
“You are correct,” he said casually. “When you first came to my notice, we were not even that close to each other.”
A sickening feeling settled into her stomach. She feared she knew exactly where Lord Frossly had seen her. A part of her wanted to stop him from explaining, but she held back the urge. It was best to have it all out right away. “Hyde Park,” she said softly, almost horrified.
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Charlotte groaned and lifted her hands to bury her face in them. She was mortified. That stunt had seemed like such a wonderful idea at the time… “I’ll never live that down.”
“It was brave,” he told her. “Not many ladies would dare.”
“Rightfully so,” she said as she lifted her head again. “It’s quite scandalous.” She was a little embarrassed he’d witnessed her reckless behavior.
“I suspect that is why you did it.” He flashed her a wicked grin. Charlotte suspected under normal circumstances he’d be cha
rming, almost roguish. Maybe she’d witness more of that side of him as they became further acquainted. “Would you care to tell me your reasons?”
She shook her head. “Not today. A lady has to have some secrets.” Charlotte opened the picnic basket. “How about we share a meal and learn some innocent aspects about each other first. We can dive into the more complicated parts of our personal lives later after we peel back some of the trivial layers.”
“All right,” he agreed. She handed him some cheese and bread, then poured some wine into a goblet. The cook had packed two… She really had thought Charlotte would be meeting someone. Perhaps she should be grateful for her forethought.
She handed Lord Frossly the glass and poured herself some. The day hadn’t gone as she planned; however, she had to believe this was meant to happen exactly as it had. She wanted to become more acquainted with Lord Frossly, and this was her opportunity to do so. She wouldn’t waste a single moment…
Chapter 6
It had been three weeks since her arrival in Peacehaven, and nothing there suggested her parents would relent on their banishment. She had managed to write and actually liked a little of what she’d created. It might not be a masterpiece, but it was her labor of love. Maybe one day she’d be able to publish her novel. It wasn’t unheard-of for a woman to be an author though some stigma was still involved. Jane Austen published anonymously, and her books only stated they were by a lady. At her death in 1817 her brother had published a eulogy letting the world of her published works, and her accomplishments as an author. Charlotte respected Jane Austen and was fascinated with her books.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. It would hurt not to claim the book as her own, but she supposed it might be better if she didn’t publish under her own name. She’d already been quite scandalous, and her parents would only tolerate so much misbehavior. Maybe she could do part of her name…Charlie Ross might work. It was close enough to her own name to satisfy her vanity and society wouldn’t realize a woman had written it.
She wandered down the stairs and entered the sitting room. Aunt Seraphina had her weekly sewing circle gathered. They had a tea service set up with cakes, biscuits, and scones. They made quilts and other small items for the community. The quilts were usually made as gifts to expectant mothers or for new brides. It was the matrons of the community’s way of helping. Charlotte had to admit it was a nice gesture and loved how welcoming the town of Peacehaven had been to her.
“Hello,” she greeted the ladies. “What are you working on today?”
“We are making ribbons for May Day,” Mrs. Simpson told her. Her spectacles were perched at the edge of her nose as she stared at her project. Her salt and pepper hair was knotted on top her head to keep it in place. “It’s in a week and some of the old ones have frayed too much to be tied to the pole.”
Charlotte tilted her head to the side. “I’ve never witnessed a true maypole dance. The town celebrates?” She hadn’t explored the town much. Had she missed a maypole? “Where is the ceremony held?”
“The pole is on Frossly land,” Mrs. Alban told her. She was the younger of the two. Her hair was blonde and had light streaks of gray. “The earl was kind enough to have everything repaired. It was pretty shabby under the estate manager’s care. This is the first year in the last decade we’re able to have it proper.”
“That is nice of him,” Charlotte said more to herself than the others in the room. She would have to pay him a visit. It had been a sennight since they last crossed paths. Their impromptu picnic had been informative and pleasant. He’d been charming, and she couldn’t help falling under his spell. The earl was handsome and charismatic. If she were to be honest with herself, she had selfish reasons for craving his presence. Charlotte wanted to test his gentlemanly manners and see how far she could push him. Would he fall back on what was expected of him, or would he give in to his roguish nature? She wanted a kiss and was willing to entice him into giving her what she desired.
“It is,” Aunt Seraphina said, breaking Charlotte out of her thoughts. “Especially when all the repairs have to be draining on his accounts. The estate manager bled the coffers dry, so I heard.”
“What?” Charlotte blinked several times. “Surely the earl isn’t bankrupt?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Simpson answered her. She pulled on the ribbon she was working on and then slid a needle through. “The earl’s guardian set up a separate account for the household bills. The largess of the Frossly fortune was not within the estate manager’s reach. Still, he ran off with quite a nest egg. I suspect no one will see him again.”
Charlotte frowned. “That’s terrible.” No wonder Lord Frossly seemed so gloomy lately. He had a lot to deal with. “How bad of disrepair is his estate in?”
“I’m not certain words exist to properly describe the state that awful man left Frossly manor in.” The disgust in her Aunt Seraphina’s tone was laced through each word. “That poor boy has been working every day since he returned to put it to rights. Workers have been in and out repairing everything. I suspect it will look more like it should in no time at all.”
“You are probably correct in your assessment.” Charlotte smiled at her aunt. “He seems determined.”
“Has he spoken to you of his troubles?” Mrs. Alban asked. She focused all her attention on Charlotte and had stopped sewing to await her reply. “It is so sad what happened to his parents. At least he has his sister. I heard she married well.”
Charlotte wouldn’t know. “Lord Frossly doesn’t speak much of his family. He was kind enough to assist me when I arrived in Peacehaven. I’m afraid I am not very acquainted with him, and what little I’ve been made aware of cannot shed any light on his situation.”
She wanted to ask what had happened to his family, but Charlotte had to wait for one of the ladies to offer the information. None of them seemed willing to add any more details and enlighten her. She held back a sigh. Why did no one speak of it? Other than it was tragic, she had no knowledge to help her understand his plight.
“He’s a good man,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Always kind to everyone. It’ll be wonderful to have him back in residence permanently. I understand, as do most of the villagers, why he’s stayed away. He was but a boy when his parents died. I’m not certain anyone really knows what happened to their carriage. A wheel or the axel broke…” She sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes these things happen and there is no understanding it. They all died, even the driver. It was so tragic…” Her voice trailed off, and Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest. He’d come up on her carriage overturned. He had mentioned his parents’s deaths, but no details. Had her situation brought it all to the forefront of his mind? No wonder he’d been silent at first.
“That’s terrible.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“It was,” Mrs. Alban said. “The young earl and his sister, Lady Kaitlin, went to live with his aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Coventry. Then misfortune struck again and his aunt, the countess, died within a year. He has had more tragedy than any young boy should bear. It’s not surprising he went a little wild in his youth.”
She shook her head in silent disgust at it all. They were being regular gossipmongers about the Earl of Frossly. She had to wonder what had brought it all on. None of them had talked so much about him since his arrival.
She gestured toward the long ribbons they were sewing. “How many of those are you making?”
“One for every young lady in the village,” Mrs. Simpson said. “They’ll all participate in the dance.” She lifted her chin and studied her. “Do you wish to dance with them? We can make a ribbon for you.”
Charlotte considered her offer. “I’ve never danced in a May Day celebration. Is it hard to learn?”
“Not at all.” Mrs. Simpson waived her hand in dismissal. “You’ve got a basis with all those dances you learn for balls. I can have my granddaughter help you learn. She’s excited to do her first maypole dance.”
“Well,
then,” she said judiciously. “I’d love to. Can I request a certain color for my ribbon, or is that asking too much of you?”
“What color would you like dear?” Aunt Seraphina asked. “We can try to accommodate your request.”
“Red,” she told her. “It’s my favorite color.”
“Very well.” Her aunt slid a needle through some fabric. “I might have the right fabric for your ribbon then.”
“The May Day celebration isn’t the only thing that is happening May first,” Mrs. Simpson said. “It’s Sera’s birthday. It’s a milestone year—her sixtieth. We should plan a nice tea party for her earlier in the day.”
Aunt Seraphina stopped sewing and glared at her friend. “We will do no such thing. My birthday isn’t what is important that day. We will do what we normally do. There’s no reason to bother with anything else.”
Charlotte disagreed. Mrs. Simpson was right. They should do something for her aunt, and she had an idea. “Don’t worry, we won’t do anything you won’t like.” She winked at Mrs. Simpson while her aunt was preoccupied. “It’ll be all about the May Day celebration.”
“You’re a good girl,” Aunt Seraphina said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you ladies to your sewing. I’m going to walk into town. I need to post a letter to my friend.” She smiled. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Be careful,” they all said in unison.
“I will,” she yelled back at them as she left the room. It wasn’t so bad in Peacehaven. She’d been grumpy about her banishment for no reason. She’d add a postscript on her letter to Pear and ask her to join her for the May Day celebration. Charlotte had a feeling her friend might enjoy the novelty.
Collin stared at the progress the workers were making on his estate. The roof had been completely repaired. No more leaks to rot the inside. The kitchen and servant quarters had been completely redone. They had started on the front of the house a couple of days ago. With the foyer, salon, and library close to completion. He asked them to work on the ballroom next. It might seem foolish, but it had been one of his favorite rooms in the house. His mother and father often danced alone in the room. He’d sneaked from the nursery to watch them, transfixed by how much they enjoyed being with each other.