Читать книгу: «A Regency Courtesan's Pride», страница 4

Her eyes widened just a fraction as she considered his words. ‘What might you have in mind?’

He grinned, and the sparks were once more hovering in the air. Attraction and interest. Not the searing fire of the previous evening, but it wouldn’t take much to set it ablaze.

‘How about a sleigh ride?’ He pointed to the equipage stored behind her phaeton.

‘In this weather?’ She glanced out into the courtyard.

‘When it clears.’

‘All right.’

He hesitated. ‘Merry, I conversed with some unusual young women this morning. In my chamber.’

She frowned. And then gasped. ‘Beth and Jane.’

‘I didn’t get their names. However, they seemed very obliging.’

‘They didn’t’ She covered her mouth with her hand.

His lips wanted to smile. He held them in check. ‘No. They didn’t.’ But they would have, and she knew it.

‘Oh. Oh, dear. I must apologise. They are housemaids in training. I should have told them to leave your room to Brian.’

Housemaids in training. A new twist on an old profession. She must have seen the disbelief in his face. ‘I will speak to them,’ she said stiffly. ‘And if the weather breaks, we will go for a sleigh ride. In the meantime, I have some business affairs needing attention.’

He imagined she did—but which business?

‘In the meantime,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please make free of the library where you will find books and a nice warm fire.’

They stood in the doorway, looking out at the world turned into a white desert, the house barely visible in a sudden flurry of snow. He inhaled. She was right, snow did have a scent all of its own. Why had he never noticed?

He took off his muffler and wrapped it around her neck and up over her mouth and nose. ‘Then at least let me escort you safely back to the house.’

Over the top of the scarf laughter spilled from her blue eyes. She looked like some Far Eastern princess, saucily peeping out from behind a veil. Or she would, if not for the manly driving coat and the man’s felt hat.

He grabbed her hand, tucked it beneath his arm and they began the trek up the hill. He liked the feel of her leaning on him for support. She wasn’t a fragile flower of a woman, but there was absolutely no denying her femininity.

And today she was acting with the propriety of a duchess. He had the strong urge to unravel the puzzle he’d found. And part of that was learning who might want to cause her harm.

He barely noticed the icy fingers of wind tearing at his coat, or the snow cold and wet on his face, because for the first time in a long time he was doing exactly as he pleased.

Chapter Five

Merry hurried along the corridor. She knew why she was hurrying. It had nothing to do with talking to the women and everything to do with escape. From him.

Not because she was attracted to him, because that part she could handle. Indeed, it was rather pleasant being looked at with desire. But it was the other part that caused her unease. Every now and then, when he looked at her with those intense dark eyes, she had the feeling he could see her innermost thoughts, whereas he seemed to hold himself very much at a distance because he really didn’t approve.

The sooner he was gone the better.

She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door to what had once been the nursery. Voices from an open door let her know where she would find Caro and her charges. She entered the day room. Caro faced the two women sitting at desks along with Thomas, Caro’s six-year-old son, writing his letters on a slate. The women each held a book. Beth was reading, slowly sounding out the words. She stopped the moment Merry entered.

Looking at the two women, one would never guess their original profession. Their faces shone with good health and cleanliness. They wore the modest practical clothing of the women who worked at the mills.

‘Good morning, ladies,’ Merry said smiling.

‘Good morning, Miss Draycott,’ they chorused.

‘Good morning,’ Caroline said. Her gaze held curiosity. Wondering about last night, no doubt.

‘If I could have your attention,’ Merry said, to the room at large. ‘Because of the snow, we have a guest at Draycott House. I gather you ladies met him this morning. I think it would be best if you remained in this wing until his departure.’

Beth giggled.

Jane frowned. ‘Ashamed of us, then, are you? Is that how it’s to be?’

Heat stung Merry’s cheeks. Jane was not the easiest woman to deal with, despite the fact that she’d sought out Caro’s help on her own account. Jane had come north from London and was far more worldly than Beth, or the other girls they had rescued. And she’d appointed herself as their leader. The other girls had fled after the fire—Jane and Beth were all that were left of the soiled doves they’d been trying to help.

‘I am not ashamed,’ Merry said firmly. ‘It is for your protection. I don’t know this gentleman very well and I do not want any misunderstanding.’

Jane curled her lips. ‘She wants to keep him all to herself, that’s what it is.’

‘Enough, Jane,’ Caro said.

Jane sniffed. ‘I don’t care about no fancy man. What I wants to know is when do we get a proper job, instead of cleaning your grates?’

In other words, was her meeting successful? The townspeople had called the house in town Draycott’s whorehouse and had thrown bricks and stones through the windows. Finally a torch had been thrown, starting a fire and forcing them to flee. The meeting yesterday had been supposed to bring the other mill owners over to her side.

The two women looked at her hopefully. ‘It’s bloody awful here,’ Jane said. ‘No shops. Nought to do ‘cept readin'.’

‘I like it,’ Beth said stoutly. She’d grown up in the country. Most of the other girls they’d rescued were town girls, daughters of shopkeepers and millworkers who had taken a wrong turn and been cast out on to the streets to make their way as best they could. All had turned to the oldest profession known to women.

When Caro, who had narrowly missed turning to the same calling out of desperation, had proposed Merry use her money and her influence to help some of these women, Merry had readily agreed. She hadn’t expected the resentment of the community. They seemed to believe the presence of these women would taint them and their families.

They’d driven the girls off.

She glanced over at Caro, who looked sad, but offered a supporting smile. ‘I wasn’t able to meet with them yesterday.’

Jane’s mouth turned sullen. ‘Too busy enjoying yerself with yer fancy man.’

‘He is a gentleman,’ Merry said. ‘He provided me assistance on the road and he will be leaving as soon as the snow is passable.’

‘Gentlemen are the best,’ Beth said, as if repeating a lesson by rote. ‘They’s polite and don’t have no pox.’

‘'Course they do,’ Jane said.

Caroline rapped on her desk with her ruler. ‘Ladies, please. This kind of talk is not helpful.’ She glanced at Thomas, who had stopped writing and was listening with a furrow between his fair brows. ‘Miss Draycott will find you work and a place to live as soon as she is able. In the meantime, you are being paid to learn to read and write.’

A groan from Beth made Merry smile.

None of the girls had found the concept of reading and writing particularly relevant. Only by offering them a wage had she been able to convince them to try when they’d moved into the house in Skepton. They’d been making great strides until forced to run for their lives. Caro insisted these two continue while they stayed with Merry. If nothing else, they would be able to read a newspaper and their employment contract before they signed it.

If they could find jobs.

‘What about the grocer’s in the High Street?’ Beth asked. Her father had owned a shop, but when he found out she was pregnant, he’d turned her out. The boy had run away to sea and left her to fend for herself. If she couldn’t support herself respectably, she would never get her child back from the orphanage. ‘He’s got a sign in the winder for a shop assistant.’

No one in Skepton seemed willing to risk employing Draycott’s whores, no matter how clean they were or how well behaved. The townspeople claimed they would be a bad influence on the men as well as the women.

Merry pressed her lips together. ‘I told him of your experience, but he said he’d changed his mind.’ She’d even threatened to stop purchasing from him, but then he told her his fear of the mob tearing his shop apart. What could she say?

Jane’s lip curled. ‘See. I told you it was all a farradiddle.’

‘They think we’ll steal them blind,’ Beth said.

It was an outbreak of burglaries that had turned the townspeople violent, even after Caro told the constable she could account for all her girls at the time of the crimes.

‘I’m leaving at the end of t’month,’ Jane said. ‘There’s good money to be made in London. Abbesses always looking for new blood. Once the weather breaks, I can walk there in a fortnight.’

‘How much does a girl make in Lunnon?’ Beth asked.

‘A fortune if you finds the right man,’ Jane said. ‘Dripping with jewels and furs, some of the girls are.’

Beth’s eyes grew round.

‘It is not quite like that,’ Caro said. ‘Very few girls meet that kind of man. And often they cast them off, the way they throw out old clothes.’

‘What would you know about it?’ Jane sneered.

Caroline coloured. ‘I have eyes.’

Merry didn’t care much for Jane. Gribble had found her slipping a silver teaspoon in her pocket. Caro had reminded her that she might have done the same, if she had been in Jane’s situation.

Damn it. If Merry didn’t do something soon, these two women would slip back into their old ways.

A feeling of inadequacy swamped her. Grandfather would have been able to deal with the mill owners and the shopkeepers. He wouldn’t have been locked out of the meeting.

Because he was a man.

If only Prentice would stand up to them.

As a manager, Prentice had very little clout. He could speak on her behalf, but even though he was the manager of the largest mill in Yorkshire, he wasn’t the owner.

The only way she would ever have a voice in those meetings was if she was married. And then that voice would go to her husband.

Which brought her right back to the mad idea she’d had this morning—and rejected before it was fully formed. How she could have let such an idea creep into her mind, she didn’t know.

‘I’ll find a way to bring them around,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’ But how?

Merry squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the document, forcing herself to read the figures again. The mill was in trouble.

How had it happened so quickly?

The door opened and Caro glided in as if she walked on air. Even on a good day, Merry galumphed around, as Grandfather always said.

But then Caro was as small and delicate as Merry was tall and big boned.

She smiled at her friend. ‘Lessons over?’

‘Yes. I’ve left them with some needlework. There are sheets in need of turning.’

‘They really don’t have to work for their board, you know.’

‘I know.’ Caro clasped her hands together. ‘But it does them good to keep occupied as well as giving them a feeling of worth. They are not bad women. Only misguided.’

‘Of course.’

‘Although I’m a bit worried about Jane. I think she’d sell her grandmother for a shilling.’

‘Probably less.’

They laughed.

‘How soon can we rebuild the house?’ Caroline asked. ‘Is it possible?’

‘Not until the snow clears, I’m afraid.’

‘I suppose Mr Prentice did his best?’ Caro sounded doubtful.

‘I’m sure he did. Although he doesn’t feel as strongly about finding the girls work as we do, he has always followed my instructions.’

‘As far as you know.’

‘Your biases are showing.’

‘He’s too nice. Too friendly.’

Merry sighed. ‘He’s young. He tries too hard and I wish Grandfather’s old manager had stayed on. He was crusty, but he knew everything there was to know about wool. He would have known how to handle the other mill owners.’

‘Did he retire?’

All the old anger returned in a hot rush. Her hands curled into fists. ‘He didn’t want to work for a woman. Said if I got married he’d be happy to come back.’ She’d been terribly hurt.

‘Oh, Merry. That is ridiculous.’

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m making a mistake.’

‘Why should you give up something you’ve worked so hard at all these years?’

‘Grandfather always used to say I was just as good as a son. But honestly

Caroline winced. ‘You are as good. Clearly you are.’

It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed the appropriate roles for men and women, and in the past they’d been in accord. Merry glanced down at the figures in her book. Was she wrong after all?

‘We will find a way,’ Caro said. ‘I didn’t have a chance to ask you how your game of billiards went. You were in high form last night.’

Merry felt heat creep up the back of her neck. ‘He won.’

‘Then I suppose you will be wanting a rematch this evening?’

Hardly. ‘Perhaps you’d care to join us for a game of cards.’

‘You need four for cards,’ Caro said.

‘We could ask Jane.’

Caroline giggled. ‘Poor Tonbridge. He wouldn’t know what hit him.’

Jane had fleeced the other girls of their pin money the first night she arrived at the house in town. Merry had the feeling she would not succeed with his lordship, but was not going to put her theory to the test.

‘Perhaps I’ll ask him to play chess.’ And there would be no removal of garments either. Her insides fluttered pleasurably as the image of his naked chest popped into her mind. Perhaps she should go straight to bed.

She almost groaned at the unfortunate thoughts that idea conjured. It would be better if she’d never known the pleasures a man could bring to a woman.

‘You will join us for dinner, though?’ Merry asked. ‘I can hardly entertain him alone.’

‘Naturally. I will see you in the drawing room at six as usual.’

Caro glided silently out of the room and Merry turned back to her accounts. It was only to be expected that the mill wouldn’t be as profitable as it had been under her grandfather. The army no longer needed the number of uniforms they’d required during the wars and the clothiers had cut back on the quantities of cloth they bought from the mill. If things didn’t improve, soon, she’d have to cut back on the number of workers she employed. With the price of bread continually rising, even those fully employed were barely surviving.

Nothing but problems, no matter which way she turned.

She began adding the column of figures again. The door opened. With a sigh, she looked up.

Tonbridge. The aristocratic lines of his face stark in the cold light from the window. Gorgeous. She blinked.

‘Ready for our sleigh ride?’ he asked. ‘I have taken the liberty of requesting the horses put to.’

Oh, she had promised, hadn’t she? She glanced out of the window. No help from the weather. It looked like a perfect afternoon.

‘It would be good to get some fresh air,’ he said, seeing her hesitation. ‘I want to take a look at your phaeton. Make sure it isn’t a hazard to other travellers.’

‘Oh, no, really. You did enough yesterday.’ The image of him heaving the carriage out of the way returned. One would never guess he hid such strength beneath the dark burgundy superfine of his coat. Why did she have to think about that now? ‘Jed will see to it.’

His gaze drifted to the papers. He hesitated a fraction, then gave her a boyish grin. The kind of grin that no doubt made ladies of the ton swoon. And didn’t do such a bad job on her either. ‘All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.’

Her heart gave a small thud of excitement. Her knees had the consistency of mashed turnip as the force of his charming smile hit her full on. Escaping from her account books sounded terribly tempting. Temptation seemed to personify this man.

‘All right. Why not?’ Decision made, she leaped to her feet. ‘But the sleigh hasn’t been used for years.’

A vague impression of the sharp bite of the wind on her cheeks and the feel of her parents’ large, warm bodies on either side of her teased at her mind.

And laughter. So much laughter.

‘It’s been well maintained, like everything else in your stables,’ he said.

‘Jed wouldn’t have it any other way. I know he is mortified by that axle.’

A shadow flickered over his face. ‘It can happen to the best-maintained equipages, as he well knows, and so I will assure him if you wish. Would Mrs Falkner care to accompany us? The sleigh easily holds four.’

‘I will ask her.’

She suddenly felt lighter, as if the problems looming over her these past few days had disappeared, or at least become less monstrous. ‘It will be fun.’

Chapter Six

Cloaked in a fur-lined rug, with a hot brick at her feet and Tonbridge’s large form beside her, Merry felt toasty and warm. She curled her fingers in her swans-down muff and breathed in the crisp clear air.

The snow glinted and sparkled like fairy dust. ‘This was a good idea,’ she said, glancing at Tonbridge.

Once he’d manoeuvred the horses between the gates, he smiled at her. ‘It’s a long time since I drove a sleigh.’

She’d been surprised when Tonbridge insisted on driving them, and then decided it was just as well that his hands were kept busy with the reins, since the seats were not very wide and the thought of his hands on her body was keeping her far too warm. Just feeling him alongside her sent delicious tingles over her skin.

Not surprisingly, Caro had refused to accompany them on their jaunt and Merry had blithely said a groom would go with them. So much for decorum.

The day was too lovely for such thoughts. She wanted to absorb the warmth of the sun in through her skin. Feast on the brilliance of a cerulean sky and rolling hills of pristine white. The vastness shrank her problems to nothing. She leaned back with the muffled thud of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of the bridles filling her ears.

‘The Yorkshire countryside is magnificent,’ he murmured.

‘Most days I’m too busy to notice,’ she admitted. Too wrapped up in business matters.

He tipped his head back to look up into the sky, his eyes creasing at the corners as he squinted at the light. ‘An eagle,’ he said. ‘See it?’

She looked up and saw the bird, wings outstretched to catch the wind, wheeling high above them. ‘It will be lucky to find any prey with so much snow on the ground.’

‘Oh, he’ll find a vole or a mouse or two. Did you know one of my ancestors was responsible for the King’s mews? Back in Tudor times?’

‘Mine probably cleaned up the droppings.’

They laughed and the horses’ ears twitched.

The tension flowed from Merry’s shoulders. He’d made her feel comfortable. She didn’t feel the need to hide the smile curving her lips or to say something blunt to keep him at a distance. She could be herself. She let go a sigh. ‘I wish every day was like this.’

‘Me, too.’

He turned at the crossroads, entering the main road. No tracks marred the snow. No vehicles had passed this way since the previous evening. The wrecked phaeton soon came into view. Snow had drifted around it, but the shafts sticking straight up reminded her of a sunken wreck.

It looked sad and lonely. ‘I hope it can be repaired,’ Merry said.

He frowned. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be driving around the countryside without a groom. Footpads are not unheard of in this part of the country. And there are rumours of Luddites again.’

‘I know everyone in the Riding.’

He shot her a look from beneath his brows that said he thought she was a stubborn foolish woman. She glared back.

He drew the horses to a halt and handed her the reins. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’

‘You surely aren’t thinking of pulling it out of the ditch?’

‘No. I want to look at the axle.’ His frown deepened.

‘Leave it to Jed.’

He didn’t reply, just climbed down and trudged through the snow. Stubborn man.

It was ridiculous. The snow had drifted well up the wheels. There was nothing to see. And what was the point of him getting soaked and cold? He was spoiling the afternoon.

She had a good mind to drive off and leave him there.

He headed back, stepping in the tracks he’d left. He went around to the back of the sleigh and grabbed a shovel.

‘Leave it be.’

He ignored her. Blast the man. Merry wound the reins around a strut and jumped down. She followed in his footsteps, the snow clumping on the skirts of her coat, making it hard to walk. By the time she reached his side, she was sodden. He had one of the wheels cleared of snow.

‘This is foolishness,’ she said.

‘Is it?’ He crouched down. ‘It is just as I thought.’ He looked up at her, his face solemn. ‘This was no accident.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Do you suppose I drove off the road on purpose?’

‘No. Look at that axle. It’s been sawn halfway through from below. The rest of it snapped, but it wasn’t an accident.’

Her stomach fell away. ‘Why?’

He rose to his feet. ‘Yes, Merry, why? Who would want to cause you serious harm? You could have been thrown from the carriage and killed, or died in the snowstorm.’

Her heart stopped. Bile rose in her throat as she stared into the concern on his face. The world seemed to spin around her head as she tried to breathe.

Slowly her heartbeat picked up again. She managed to take a breath. ‘I can’t think of anyone’ Her voice tailed off as she remembered the mill owners’ faces at the guild hall. Angry red faces. And one very worried-looking Mr Prentice.‘Oh, dear.’

Was it possible one of them hated her so much he wanted her dead? Or all of them? Men she’d known all her life? The backs of her eyes burned. Her chest hurt. She wanted to bury her face against Tonbridge’s shoulder and weep like a child.

‘Who, Merry?’ he demanded, his voice almost a growl. ‘Who wants to hurt you?’

She turned her face from his irate gaze. ‘You are mistaken,’ she said dully. ‘It must be an accident.’

‘The evidence is clear and it seems to me you know who did this.’

The urge to unburden herself ached in her throat. She bit her lip against its allure and felt the chill of the air on her teeth. ‘There are several people who don’t like me very much at the moment.’

‘People?’

He wasn’t going to let it rest. ‘Other mill owners. Town councillors. But, honestly, I don’t think any of them would have done such a dastardly thing. They are all respectable men. Pillars of Skepton.’

‘Is anyone else angry at you?’

Her teeth started to chatter. Cold. Shock. Damn it, fear, too. ‘Certainly not. Next you will be telling me this is my fault.’ She spun away from him. ‘This is none of your concern, my lord,’ she called back as she stomped away. ‘Let us return home before we freeze to death.’

‘Merry, wait.’

She kept walking. She couldn’t stop, because if she did, she might fall down, her knees felt so weak. Because if she stopped, she might truly believe someone had deliberately tried to end her life.

He caught her by the arm and pulled her around to face him. ‘Oh, hell,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He wiped her cheek with his gloved thumb. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Her breath stuck in her throat at the gentle concern in his face and the softness in his dark brown eyes. ‘Of course you didn’t scare me. The wind brought tears to my eyes.’

He chuckled, a soft low warm sound that comforted rather than mocked. He pulled his hand from his glove and placed his palm against her cheek. Warmth infused her skin, not just where he touched her, but all over, as if he had the power to heat the blood in her veins from her head to her feet.

‘You are cold,’ he said. ‘You should have stayed in the sleigh.’

Her teeth chattered and her body shook. ‘No, I shouldn’t.’

He swept her up in his arms as if she were nothing but a half-bolt of cloth. ‘My dear Merry, allow me to help you back to the carriage.’

‘Put me down.’ But the words were half-hearted and mumbled against his coat. Somehow her arms had gone around his neck and he was walking. Beneath his hat, his dark hair curled against his temple. His ear was very nicely formed, she decided, not too large, nor did it stick out from his head. In profile against the bright blue sky, his nose was a little crooked. A very small imperfection, scarcely noticeable unless you looked closely. Somehow it made him seem less of a god and more human.

Her heart tumbled over.

Oh Lord, she really did like him. She loved the feel of being in his arms, of being held close to his chest, like something precious. She felt feminine. Cared for. Protected.

He glanced down with a smile. ‘Ready?’

Dash it, they were back at the sleigh already. He lifted her up on to the seat and walked around to the other side and climbed up. He arranged the rug over her knees and tucked it up under her chin. ‘Is there any warmth left in that brick?’

‘A little,’ she said. She had no idea, her toes were too cold.

‘But not enough, I am sure.’ He put his hand under her chin, turned her face towards him. ‘Tell me, Merry.’

The strength of command in his voice shivered all the way down to her toes. The intensity in his dark brown gaze trapped her.

‘Who would want to do you harm?’

His hands cupped both sides of her face. She looked at the firm set of his mouth, anything not to have to gaze into his searching eyes.

‘You do know,’ he said. ‘You foolish female.’ He lifted her face, then those wonderful lips descended on hers, gentle, comforting. ‘Tell me, Merry,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Let me help you.’

Then his mouth firmed, it wooed and tormented until she could no longer think of anything but the delicious sensations ravaging her body. Her insides quivered with the joy of it, her heart thundered and she angled her head for better access to those wonderful lips. She pulled her hands from her muff and put them on those powerful shoulders.

His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, not demanding, sweetly requesting. Resistance had no place in her mind; the joy filling her took up every inch of space. Trembling deep inside she granted him entry and he swept her up on a tide of passion.

She clung to him, and let her senses drift where they would. Delightful waves of desire washed over her, thrilling and beautiful.

Slowly he drew back, his brown eyes smoky beneath half-lowered lids, his breathing as ragged as her own. ‘Tell me.’

The man had no mercy. And she had no will. Never had she felt so weak. So vulnerable. Not since the day her parents died and she’d learned love was a fleeting thing. She shivered.

‘Damn,’ he said under his breath. ‘You are still cold. I need to get you back to the house.’ He paused, his dark gaze hardening. ‘But I will have the truth of this.’

She briefly closed her eyes against the pull of the insidious weakness. Brushed his demand away with a half-laugh. ‘You make mountains from molehills, my lord.’ She sounded breathless. And, God help her, afraid. The moment he released her, the bone-chilling fear had returned. Someone had tried to do her harm. A warning, or had they actually intended her death?

It didn’t bear thinking of.

He picked up the reins. ‘Call me Charlie. Make no mistake, Merry, I will not let this rest. You will let me help you.’

The heir to a dukedom was used to getting his own way. And he wanted to shoulder her burdens. It felt good. For once having a man want to protect her felt freeing rather than constraining.

‘Very well,’ she said, the words spoken before she really had time to think. ‘There is one thing you could do for me.’

Engaged in the process of turning the horses in the road, his head whipped around, a question on his face.

‘Marry me,’ she said.