“Isn’t that unusual? I was under the impression that most aunts kept a close watch on their nieces.”
“It isn’t that Aunt Cora is neglectful. It’s just that she herself has always spent a great deal of time in the forest. She knows the countryside well, and after I came to live with her, she made a point of sharing her knowledge with me. As she aged, I spent more and more time outside alone, entertaining myself.”
“Did your father’s family have no objection?”
“None,” Anna answered shortly. She noted a slight widening of Lord Ashington’s eyes and realized he had picked up on the brevity of her answer. Not wanting him to question her further, she quickly changed the subject.
“I wonder if I might visit the kitchen, my lord? I’d like to make sure the kitten is being cared for.”
The earl patted his lips with his napkin and laid it beside his plate. “By all means, Miss Marshall. James will escort you. After that, perhaps you would be kind enough to join me in the library for a few minutes. I have a proposition for you.”
Phillip watched as Miss Marshall followed James from the breakfast parlor toward the kitchen. Although her gown was clearly not in the latest of styles, it appeared to be made of a good quality fabric that was soft enough to sway with her hips as she walked. She was quite appealing, which didn’t make Phillip at all happy. The last thing he needed was to become attached to a female from the area surrounding Ashworth.
Come to think of it, he couldn’t imagine why he had asked her to join him in the library. And why had he said he had a proposition for her? He didn’t, but now he’d have to think of something or end up looking like a fool.
Which he probably was, he reflected with a grimace. There was no accounting for this confounded feeling of attraction to the female who was pretty but certainly no lovelier than the women of the ton who consistently attempted to attract his attention.
Besides which, he didn’t trust Miss Marshall. How could he, considering he’d had to rescue her from a snowstorm at which time she’d clearly stated that she’d gone out to meet a man, then tried to pretend she’d been on a mission of mercy?
On the other hand, her conversation at breakfast had been enjoyable. Fortunately there’d been no flirting on her part, which was something Phillip had come to expect from females. Not one to indulge in false modesty, he was well aware that he was considered a catch on the Marriage Mart.
He should be feeling nothing but relief because Miss Marshall showed no signs of wanting to catch him in a parson’s mousetrap. He had no desire to marry for a few years yet, and when he did take a woman to be his wife, he would do so with a view toward practical considerations. Marriage, in his opinion, would be tolerable only if the bride brought with her a large dowry or perhaps some land that adjoined one of his various estates.
In the meantime, of course, he was stuck here at Ashworth with a female he’d asked to join him in the library. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the table and stood. First, he needed to make doubly sure all the servants were safe and adequately housed until the weather cleared up.
After a brief interview with the butler and then the housekeeper, he felt confident that everyone on the estate was well cared for. He did not subscribe to the view that masters should pretend their servants did not exist, and he always went out of his way to ensure that those who worked for him never went cold or hungry.
Ten minutes later, he stepped into the library and paused to stare. Miss Marshall had arrived ahead of him, and she was reaching up to take a book off the shelf. Her posture, stretching as she was to reach a shelf above her head, served to emphasize the fullness of her bosom. He wrenched his gaze away and cleared his throat.
When she became aware he’d entered the room, she turned, book in hand. A tinge of pink brightened her cheeks. Why was she blushing? He hoped she didn’t think he’d been staring at her figure, even though he had. Perhaps she was just concerned because he’d caught her taking one of his books off the shelf.
He nodded toward the leather-bound volume in her hand. “Have you found something new or are you revisiting an old friend?”
Her shoulders dipped a bit, as though she had been braced for a verbal blow but could now relax. A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. “An old friend. Shakespeare.”
He returned her smile and motioned for her to precede him to the grouping of chairs in front of the fire. “Which play? Or do you prefer his sonnets?”
She took a seat on the far left in a chair that was angled toward the others in the grouping. “I’m considering rereading A Midsummer Night’s Dream as an antidote for the current weather we’re experiencing.” She nodded toward the window. “It has started snowing again.”
He glanced toward the window. Sure enough, the snow was coming down at an alarming rate. “This will cause hardships for many people in the neighborhood. I wish there was something I could do to help them.”
He looked back toward Miss Marshall, only to find her staring at him with a puzzled expression in her eyes.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon, but I have always understood that you dislike your neighbors to the extent that you would not lend aid to them under any circumstances.”
He raised his brows. “You believe in plain speech, I see.”
“As I said, I beg your pardon. I’m just repeating what I’ve been told. Have I misunderstood? Is there not some degree of animosity between you and the people hereabouts?”
He selected a chair opposite Miss Marshall and dropped into it. “You’ve heard correctly. There once was a great deal of antipathy between me and my neighbors, and I fear their antagonism toward me is too deep-seated to ever dissipate.”
“And why is that, my lord?”
“Do you really think this topic is any of your business, Miss Marshall?” He expected her to puff up in anger at his question, which he’d intentionally made rude. She was probing a sore spot he didn’t wish to discuss. He was startled when she merely smiled.
“Yes, actually, I do think it’s my business. After all, I’ve lived in this neighborhood since I was eight years old and I’ve always been warned to stay far away from the Earl of Ashington. In fact, I’ve been told never to set foot on your property for fear I’d be shot on sight. Now you indicate that you feel no antipathy toward your neighbors, and I believe I have a right to know why they’ve always warned me to steer clear of you.”
He sighed. “As is often the case, our ill feelings originally arose from a misunderstanding.”
“Oh?” She gazed at him expectantly.
She obviously wanted more details, details Phillip was loath to give. But she was staring at him, waiting. “It’s rather a long story,” he said at last.
She nodded toward the window and the falling snow. “I’m not going anywhere soon.”
“Well,” he said, casting his mind back to days he really didn’t want to remember. “As you may know, my father’s first wife died while giving birth to their only child, Jack. My parents married a few years later and I was born. My sister followed two years later. Mother died when I was almost six but our father left me and Rachel here to be cared for by the servants while he took Jack with him to live in London.”
“Why did he take your older brother with him and leave you and Rachel here?”
“My half brother,” Phillip stated firmly. He wanted no misunderstanding there. “Jack was Father’s heir and also his favorite child. He had loved Jack’s mother, it seems.”
“And he didn’t love your mother?”
Phillip set his teeth and smiled. “So I understand.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need for sympathy. Rachel and I were quite content living here until my grandfather died and my father came into the title. At that time, our father decided to rid himself of his unpleasant Aunt Gertrude, a spinster who had lived at the London townhouse with Grandfather until his death. My father’s method of getting his unwanted relative out o
f London was to send her to Ashworth to live. His excuse was that he needed someone to look after Rachel and me.”
“I’m assuming your aunt’s presence did not work out well for you and your sister.”
“Aunt Gertrude was furious at having been forced to leave London, and she expressed her displeasure by taking her spite out on the servants here and everyone in the neighborhood. She was haughty and condescending and quickly alienated all who came in contact with her.”
Miss Marshall cocked her head to one side and regarded him through slightly narrowed eyes. “But that doesn’t explain your antipathy toward your neighbors.”
“True. And for that I take full responsibility except…” He paused.
“Except for what? I would assume your neighbors did not blame you for the actions of your aunt.”
“I should have guessed what she was doing, but in my own defense, I was still a child. I didn’t realize she had instructed everyone in the neighborhood to stop speaking to Rachel and me. I merely understood that Rachel was terribly upset because her friends would no longer allow her to come into their homes, nor would they visit her when invited to come here. I experienced the same rejection, but I didn’t care that much for myself. It was Rachel’s pain that turned me against the people who were hurting her.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “How terrible for both of you. And so you retaliated by doing what?”
“There wasn’t much I could do at that age but later, after I came into the title, I made it clear to the people hereabouts that they were not welcome to set foot on Ashworth land. They were not to hunt here. They were not to visit my home here. They were not to speak to me should they pass me on the road. I withdrew all patronage from the church and from any charities that my family had once supported.”
She gazed at him with widened eyes. “No wonder your neighbors speak of you in hushed tones. First your great-aunt was cruel to them, then you.”
Phillip looked deep into her eyes and gulped. She had gorgeous eyes. Eyes so blue and so deep, so sparkling and pure, that he could gaze into them all day. Then she looked down and he realized he’d been staring like a lovesick boy. He cleared his throat and struggled to recall what they’d been talking about. Oh yes, his aunt’s and his own rudeness to the neighbors. “I know we were unkind and I regret that. I tried a time or two to make amends, but my attempts were turned away. I have concluded that my neighbors have no desire for a thawing of relations.”
“There must be something you could do to change that,” she murmured, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Oh no.” Phillip shook his head. “I’ve been rebuked quite enough by my neighbors. I’ll not give them another chance to turn their backs on me.”
“What about Rachel?” Miss Marshall asked.
“What about her?” he returned.
“Would she not be happy to have relations in the neighborhood return to a friendly state?”
He lifted his chin and gazed down his nose. “I believe we’ve discussed my family in sufficient detail for the moment, Miss Marshall. No doubt you are eager to begin reading.”
Her brows shot up. “We’ll change the subject if you wish, but I’m here only because you asked me to join you in the library. You said you had a proposition for me.”
“So I did,” Phillip murmured. What on earth had he been thinking? And what was he to say? Then inspiration struck. “Since Rachel has been detained, I’m hoping you can help prepare the house for Christmas. I’ve always left it up to Rachel and the servants in the past, but since we have no idea when her carriage can make it through the drifts outside, it seems prudent to start without her.”
“No doubt the servants will know what needs to be done. I certainly have no idea. My Aunt Cora and I do very little to celebrate Christmas.”
“Why not?”
Color quickly tinted her cheeks. “We simply don’t.” She looked down at the book nestled in her lap and cracked it open. “I think I’ll read for a while if you have no objection to my remaining in the library.”
“None at all. Have you decided on a play?”
“Perhaps I’ll read Much Ado About Nothing.”
“As you wish.” He picked up the newspaper he’d brought with him from London and held it up between him and Miss Marshall. He wished it were as easy to block her from his thoughts as it was to block her from his view.
Chapter 3
Anna flipped through the thick volume of Shakespeare’s plays, trying to decide on one that would hold her interest, but with no success. She was too conscious of the Earl of Ashington sitting just a few feet away, hidden behind his newspaper.
She wished she didn’t like him. She also wished she wasn’t enthralled by the fact he was so different from what she’d expected. And most of all, she wished she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. But that decision had been made long ago, and she had no intention of changing it.
“Have you decided on a play?” The earl had lowered his paper a bit and was regarding her over the top.
Anna realized she’d been absently leafing through the volume in her lap, turning pages without paying any attention to the words written on them. “Not yet,” she murmured. She closed the book and laid it on the table beside her. “I find I’m not really interested in reading Shakespeare at the moment. I think I’ll look for something different.”
“I’d offer to help but I’ve never paid attention to the arrangement of the books in here. However, if you need assistance in reaching one on a high shelf, let me know.”
Anna felt a smile forming. Obviously, the earl could be charming when he tried. “Thank you. I may take you up on that offer.”
She walked to the far right of the room where the shelving began and found several histories and a row of books on farming. She moved to her left and almost instantly spotted an interesting title two shelves above her. She stretched, then stood on her tiptoes and stretched again. She wasn’t aware that Ashington had moved until she felt the heat of his body when he stepped up behind her. That heat was immediately followed by what she’d come to think of as his signature scent—the sharp and appealing fragrance of pine combined with an earthiness she had trouble identifying. When he spoke, his breath stirred the hair behind her ear and sent shivers down her spine.
“I see you’re having a bit of trouble, Miss Marshall. If you’ll point out the book you desire, I’ll be happy to retrieve it for you.”
Anna felt the strongest urge to lean back, to rest her body against his sturdy frame, but she caught herself in time. What would he have thought of her then? He already considered her a bit wanton, out looking for a beau during a snowstorm. And he certainly wasn’t aware of her true social status, so whatever her desires might be, she had to keep herself well in hand.
“There, the one on herbs.” She pointed the book out, then ducked under his arm when he reached for it. Had she not moved, he would have leaned directly into her body, pressing against her as he stretched upward. She wished she hadn’t felt it was necessary to move.
He pulled the book down and looked at the cover. “Is this the one you want? A book on herbal remedies?”
“Yes, please.” She reached for it but he didn’t appear to notice.
He opened the book, silently read a few words and frowned. “Why on earth would a young woman like you be interested in remedies for gout?”
Anna sighed. Rather loudly. She hoped his lordship got the point that she didn’t consider her reading preferences to be any of his business. “My aunt is considered a healer in these parts, and she’s taught me much of what she knows. I spend a good bit of time in the forest searching for ingredients to make potions or poultices or whatever might help those who are ill or hurt.”
He frowned, then rubbed the furrows away with the tips of his fingers. “I recall now. Once, when I was a little under five years old, I had a terrible fever, and Mrs. Ballard sent for your aunt. She gave me something foul tasting, but I soon felt better.”
/>
“That, of course, was before I came to live with Aunt Cora, but I believe her interest in healing goes back to when she was a young woman.”
“Really? I wonder if she always—” Ashington paused when footsteps sounded in the hallway. Within seconds, Gunther appeared in the library door. “Excuse me, Miss Marshall, but the cook is asking to see you if you would be so kind as to accompany me.”
“Certainly.” Anna glanced at the earl and realized he had a frown on his face, whether from puzzlement or irritation she couldn’t judge. She dropped a quick curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ll see what the cook needs. Perhaps my kitten is causing a ruckus. If so, I’ll ask permission to move it to one of the storage areas out of her way.”
The earl’s frown faded. “That would make sense,” he said. “Feel free to make whatever arrangements seem appropriate to you and the cook.”
Anna dropped another curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned quickly before he could note the blush coloring her cheeks.
As Anna had suspected, the cook was experiencing no problems with the kitten, which was happily drinking from a saucer of milk set beside the hearth. She did, however, have a sick potboy on her hands and wanted Anna to suggest a remedy. “For he’s been throwing up his boot heels, Miss, and I’m sorry to say that I don’t know what to do to make him better. His stomach has been quiet for the last half hour but I’m afraid to let him around anybody else because I’m afraid it’s catching.”
The potboy had been relegated to a storage room off the kitchen where he’d been provided with a pallet on the floor and a pail by his side in case his nausea returned. When Anna stepped into the room, she instantly recognized the child she’d treated the previous summer when he’d wandered into a patch of poison ivy. Little Mark was the son of one of the gardeners and a sweet boy but lacking in common sense.
A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness Page 3