“Yes, my lord,” she agreed readily, which seemed to both surprise him and mollify him. She didn’t care for his—or Lady M’s—attitudes for what they deemed proper behavior. Beckwith and Lord Hadlee had been the highlight of her evening. And while she was unaccustomed to the beau monde’s mindset regarding public behavior—
“Just like that? No argument?” The earl interrupted her musing.
Emma let out a weary sigh. But gave him what he wanted. “Lady M spent the evening being progressively nastier to any person who attempted to speak with me, that it became rather embarrassing and bade me wish the floor might open up beneath me. You chased away a man with a feral scowl and only because he spoke with me—that man being so bold as to actually talk to me rather as if our minds and persons were of equal rank—the gall of him! And then, if I recall correctly, it was you who actually accosted me in a dark room, laying your hands and your lips upon my person in a most intimate and scandalous manner—which by the way, Lord Beckwith did not do. Please do go on, my lord, instructing me on genteel and acceptable conduct. I am all ears.”
The entirety of the ride, after Emma’s remarks, was made in complete silence.
Chapter Thirteen
Somehow, the next morning, Emma was not entirely shocked when Mrs. Downing coolly informed her that the earl had already left the house and that she would be travelling back to Benedict House by herself.
Praise the Lord! Had been her silent response to this news.
She wasted no time but advised the housekeeper that she could be ready within the hour. She bounded up the stairs immediately after breakfast and packed her own small bag.
Some despicable melancholy made her leave behind the fabulous blue ball gown, spread out on the bed, when she left. She gave one final caress to the tassels at its hem and grabbed up her bag and cloak and left the room.
Almost two hours later, she arrived at Benedict House. They must have seen the carriage sending up a cloud of dust upon the high road, that Mrs. Conklin and SueEllen and Thurman waited for her upon the front steps. Emma only had eyes for Bethany, held so sweetly in the housekeeper’s arms. Although Emma was sure Mrs. Conklin must have told Bethany for whom they waited, her daughter’s eyes did not light until Emma actually stepped from the carriage.
She ran straight to her, Mrs. Conklin coming forward, happy to assist in the reunion. Bethany wailed and giggled, and then squirmed when Emma squeezed her so tight.
“Did you enjoy London, Miss?” Mrs. Conklin wanted to know, hovering over the pair, brushing Emma’s sagging hair out of her face, even as she still had her head buried in Bethany’s little face.
Emma took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to Mrs. Conklin. “Honest to goodness, it was as wonderful as it was awful.”
The housekeeper and the butler smirked at this.
“That’s probably the general perception,” Mrs. Conklin said.
One week after her return from London, in which time his seat in Parliament kept the earl often away from Benedict House, Emma was informed—via Thurman, as was usual these days—that the transaction was completed, and the house had been readied for her immediate occupancy. Emma took this to mean, Leave, now.
Having not a whit of belongings to pack aside from one borrowed valise for their newly purchased garments, Emma had hastily and happily replied to Thurman that she was ready now to depart. If the butler were surprised by this announcement, he gave no pause, but nodded affably and told her he’d have the carriage brought out front.
Hence, Emma and Bethany, having said their goodbyes to Mrs. Conklin and several of the maids, had climbed into the open carriage and had left Benedict House without a backward glance. Mrs. Conklin had fretted at their leaving, wondering that she shouldn’t wait for his lordship to return from London. As Peter and the carriage waited, Emma had only pretended not to hear this and climbed inside, with Bethany wanting to do her own climbing and sit upon her own seat. And so she did, and Emma and Bethany waved merrily at those few staff members come to the yard to see them off.
Twenty minutes later, she stood inside her new home, still mystified by her good fortune, silently blessing Michael Benedict for the beautiful person that he was and praying—half-heartedly—that she might never see the present earl again. She thought she might have come upon Henry, the caretaker, but found the odd little man nowhere about.
Needing then to be busy, Emma carried Bethany up the stairs and made decisions about what rooms to take and searched for and found fresh linens for the beds. She thought it a good time for Bethany to graduate from the cradle to the child’s bed in the front bedroom, and chose for herself the bedroom next to that, facing the east. She liked sunshine upon her first thing in the morning and had been fortunate to have had this arrangement at the King’s Arms Inn formerly. As it had previously been her profession, it took Emma no time at all to make the beds, even while she kept one eye on a very curious Bethany, exploring her new surroundings. She worried for a moment about the effect of these recent upheavals upon so small a child, but considered Bethany’s perpetually cheery mood, and was reminded again of dear Mrs. Smythe’s idea, that a child took its cues from the adult and if she portrayed happiness and strength, so too would the child.
When this task was done, they explored the first floor more, Emma surprised to find that the larder and pantry had been stocked, and fresh vegetables and fruits sat in various bowls and baskets upon the cutting table in the middle of the kitchen. Picking up and squeezing briefly a tomato, testing its firmness, Emma turned then rather sharply at hearing the kitchen door open. She relaxed immediately upon finding Henry in the doorway, his knees bent in such a way as to suggest they were ready to sit, even if the whole of him were not.
“Good day to ye, Miss,” he addressed her. He then spotted Bethany, trying to scamper upon a high-legged stool near the cutting table. “And a little miss, too.”
“Hello, Henry,” said Emma and introduced Bethany only by name. She was unfamiliar with this protocol; did she need to give Bethany’s history to persons to whom it shouldn’t matter?
“I thought mayhap tomorrow I’d take ye into the village, show ye where ye need to be to make yer purchases for this and that and whatnot,” he offered.
Emma’s brow crinkled. “Henry, do you not move on with the family who previously owned this cottage?” She feared what his answer might be because Emma certainly hadn’t monies to pay for his time or work.
“It were arranged by yer earl that I stay with the Daisies, Miss, perhaps for just a few weeks to see ye settled.” he answered.
This came as happy news to Emma, and she wondered at the earl’s thoughtfulness in this regard. Seemed rather uncharacteristic of him. Quickly, she determined that was uncharitable of her and pushed those thoughts out of her head. “I’m happy to have you for whatever time, Henry, and hope not to be an inconvenience to you.”
But Henry only waved her off, watching Bethany and her continued efforts to gain the seat of the stool. “Part of the deal, miss, whether yer trouble or not.”
“Oh...well, that is good,” Emma said, but then caught the old man’s smirk and breathed a little easier. Briefly, she considered that she should ask the earl of the specific arrangement with Henry, to clarify.
And just as his name scurried through her mind, his image appeared before her, standing at the same doorway through which Henry had come.
“Aye, there ye be, milord,” Henry said, by way of greeting. “I’ll be off then, Miss. Until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Henry,” she called as he left the cottage, nodding to Zachary Benedict as he moved by him. She wished Henry might have stayed—the look on the earl’s face spoke clearly of his displeasure, though she could only guess at its cause.
He spoke immediately and brusquely. “I felt you had left London with some air of enmity between us. I didn’t—I do not—care to have it remain.”
And just when she thought she might latch onto that olive branch, he spoke again, giving
her reason to assume he actually did enjoy the hostility.
“But then I’d ridden hard from London at the first break we had, and found you had left Benedict House, without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Emma bristled, at both his tone and his words. Nearly through clenched teeth, she spoke before truly thinking better of it. “My lord, I was not aware that I owed you anything at all. I hadn’t been informed that your father’s bequest came with attached strings.”
This only seemed to perturb him yet more. “Common courtesy alone might have insisted upon some thoughtfulness, perhaps at least waiting until I returned before you left.”
“And you came here now to enlighten me in this regard?” Why—dear Lord, why!—did this man provoke her to this degree of hostility?
But this last bit of unkindness appeared to invoke no rebuke. For just the space of a moment, he appeared rather nonplussed. This, in turn, softened Emma’s frigidity. Truly, she owed him not this animosity.
Emma drew in a deep breath and began anew. “I’m sorry, my lord. I certainly don’t owe you such shrewishness. I do apologize. We seem ever to be at odds. Perhaps I only assumed I would for certain be seeing you again. My excitement that the cottage was ready for us overrode...my good sense.”
By now, Bethany had successfully reached the prize of the stool top and sat herself at the cutting table, pounding the flat of her hands upon the wooden tabletop in her joy. Apparently, her pains to reach this height were so great that she hadn’t even heard the earl and having been at the opposite side of the table, she had not seen him, and now her eyes lighted on him with glee. She lifted her chubby hands and clapped them together at the sight of the earl.
His scowl, so often present in the company of Emma, eased immediately upon seeing the child, and then yet more when he saw her enthusiasm at seeing him. “Hullo, moppet,” he said and strode to her and lifted her up in his arms.
“Zach’ry! Zach’ry!” She chimed, and immediately set to destroying his neatly tied cravat.
Emma nearly blanched at Bethany’s joy—however was she to take the man from her life when all else she’d known was gone as well? Watching the earl entertain Bethany now, Emma felt immediately that strange and uncomfortable feeling one gets when they realize they haven’t any choice but to do something not to their liking, something they deem quite dangerous. Dread, she thought it might be.
With a sigh that she hoped went unnoticed, Emma asked, “Had you come only to reprimand me?”
This brought the earl’s head up, his eyes, less stormy now, leveled on her. He nearly smiled. “I came as well to be sure you were settling in all right. To see if you had need of anything.”
She had a need, that was for sure. She needed to not be so disturbed by the very presence of this man. She needed to think of him not at all when he wasn’t near her. She needed to forget that his lips felt like heaven upon hers. She absolutely needed to stop thinking endlessly upon the possibility of more kisses.
“We’ve arranged our rooms upstairs,” she said instead. “Bethany will be moving into a child’s bed now.” Shrugging, she didn’t know what else to say. “I see that the pantry and larder have been supplied. Thank you.”
He nodded at this, thoughtful for a moment. Then a strange grin lifted his mouth and made him appear near boyish. “I hate to ask, Emma, but do you even know how to cook?”
She stared, dumbstruck. Her lips moved to answer but no words came forth right away until a bare, “Well, no,” finally did. She would learn. Eventually, she guessed. But with Mrs. Smythe soon to be here, she hadn’t thought to worry about her own present inadequacies. She didn’t know if or what she might tell him about the coming of the Smythes and Langdon. Would he disapprove? Refuse them? Could he?
He chuckled outright at her response.
Emma smiled herself. “It cannot be very hard... can it? A lot of cutting and chopping and—and,” she wavered and then glanced at the vegetables in the baskets, “and a boiling of things.”
Zachary nodded helpfully. “Sounds not difficult at all.” His carefully held façade burst then and he erupted in outright laughter just as Emma did herself. Bethany chimed in, having no idea what they conspired in laughter over, but happy to participate all the same.
“I don’t suppose you would be any help to me,” Emma accused when their laughter had begun to fade, but there was a hopeful element to her tone.
The earl looked mildly affronted. “Me? No. Even when I served with Wellington, I had staff to cook for me.” He set Bethany down then as she was wiggling to be free and take up again with the stool. “But you might be right—it shouldn’t be that hard. ‘Get the food hot’ seems to be the basic premise of cooking.”
“Exactly,” Emma agreed, clinging to this tenet as something on which she could build. “I can light a fire,” she told him proudly. She thought for a second then guessed, with less surety, “Bread might be more difficult a task.”
“Mmm,” he agreed with a nod. “And puddings, likely, take some greater amount of knowledge.”
Emma grimaced. “And gravies and pies and porridge and stews—I suppose they might all be rather tricky.” Thank heavens that the Smythes were coming. Soon, she hoped.
“Beginning to sound like a problem,” Zach decided in an even tone.
“Hmm, yes.” She chewed her lip determinedly. “But nothing that cannot be remedied, I imagine. We certainly won’t starve in the meantime.”
“No?”
Emma frowned at him.
“I mean, no, of course not,” he amended with a grin.
At this, she laughed again. Aside from his constant affability with Bethany, she’d seen not so much more of his personality than his rude and overbearing person. This was a pleasant, wholly unexpected side of him. Instantly, she was wary; she desired his kisses when he’d been a less than desirable character, and if he turned charming on her now, what more might she crave?
“’Tis a good thing I arrived when I did,” he said into that small span of silence. “I suggest we head immediately for Perry Green and see what sustenance they have to offer.”
Her mind screamed an abrupt, No!, but as he was smiling so handsomely at her, and as he’d showed a boyish charm with his wonderful laughter, she acquiesced.
Perry Green was a small but thriving market town in eastern Hertfordshire, though presently it boasted only one main thoroughfare, High Street. Aside from this, there were two rear access roads, Back Lane and Weir Lane, which allowed vendors to place their wares inside the mostly Georgian-styled buildings. As Hertfordshire was conveniently close to the English capital; much of the area was owned by the nobility and thus the local economy of Perry Green was regularly boosted by this wealth.
This would be Emma’s first good view of Perry Green, and she truly hoped it was all she’d promised it to be to the Smythes and Langdon.
On High Street sat the Crown Inn, a coaching inn which served mostly nobility on their passage from London to their country homes. While Emma had always thought the King’s Arms a respectable and well-tended inn, she’d not much to compare it to, her visitation of other inns limited indeed. Thus, she was pleasantly surprised to find the Crown Inn so well-appointed and filled with so elite a crowd. In the next instant, however, surveying the large victuals barroom with its open fireplace, and all the grand people sitting about, she felt uncomfortably like the very poor and non-elite person that she was.
The earl apparently sensed or felt this not at all and steered her to a table near the windows, requesting of the steward a higher chair for Bethany. His very elegant appearance and the obvious air of nobility made things happen rather quickly and very shortly then Bethany was set into a chair which fit perfectly against the table, the seat and arms small enough that she was held snugly within.
Perhaps the earl perceived Emma’s discomfort then—she felt his eyes once again watching her keenly—because he didn’t allow her to have to make decisions but expressed himself to the steward, ordering the
ir meals and beverages. This time, Emma was rather glad for his sometimes high-handedness. It occurred to her suddenly that she had never once sat at this side of the service trade. She felt conspicuous and ill at ease and so, rather without thinking, blurted, “I daresay I might rather learn to cook.”
Zachary Benedict laughed outright at this, a loudness above the general din of the room, though he seemed not to care. “They are no different from you or I,” he said, having correctly interrupted her timid expression.
“They are no different than you,” Emma clarified, “but I remain situated well below you.”
The earl leaned forward across the table. “My mother taught me from a very young age that we all put on our pants the same, one leg at a time.”
This caught Emma off guard, and she fastened her bright eyes onto the earl. “Your father subscribed to that truism as well.”
“Ah, then mother’s work paid off at last,” Zachary remarked.
A woman appeared at the table then, dressed finer than any server at the King’s Arms had ever been, and set before them a mug of lemonade for Emma and one of ale for Zachary. She announced her name quite boldly as Molly and trained her eyes appreciatively upon the earl. “If you have any other need, my lord, please ask for me,” she offered before sashaying away from the table.
“What if I were in need of something?” Emma asked, before she thought better of it, a quirky grin teasing her face.
Zach’s shoulders shook as he chuckled at this bit of nonsense. “Then I would imagine you could ask any gentleman present and likely they would jump to do your bidding.” There was only the slightest hint of reproach in this remark. He sipped briefly of his ale and then surprised Emma by taking up her mug of lemonade to offer it to Bethany, helping her sip easily of the fruity brew.
They were then amused by Bethany for quite a while, as she had taken a serious liking to the drink and was persistent in her efforts to have more of it. Soon, however, their meals were delivered, a mutton stew for Emma and roasted duck for Zach, Emma vocally lamenting the fact that she might never cook like this.
If I Loved You (Regency Rogues: Redemption Book 2) Page 18