Desires of a Baron (5 page)

Chapter Five

This was not when Lucy wanted to do this, but Seth and his schemes were leaving her little choice. She wasn’t so naïve she didn’t see through the charade he and Mr. Appleton had tried to fool her with. If she didn’t just address it now, those two might never leave and that wouldn’t do.

She gestured for him to sit down in one of the two dining chairs they had. “Seth,” she started, curling her hands into her skirts. How did she say this in a way he’d understand? “I know you mean well, but I can’t marry.” There, that was simple enough.

Seth pressed his lips together. “Yes, you can, and Mr. Appleton seems the perfect sort.”

Lucy tried not to snort. “We barely know him,” she said evasively. That was true enough.

“
No,
you
barely know him.”

Lucy arched a brow.

“I spent the afternoon with him. I know lots of things about him.”

Lucy didn’t even want to know what her son had deemed important enough to ask Mr. Appleton. She released a deep breath. “Seth, I’m sure he’s a nice gentleman, but he has no interest in becoming my husband.”

“How do you know?” Seth retorted. “You have hardly spoken to him.”

“
No, I haven’t,” she agreed. “But I don’t need to speak to him to know that he has no interest in marrying me.”

“
Perhaps he would if you spent a little time with him.”

Lucy suppressed a groan. “That won’t be happening.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to give him a chance,” Seth argued, the color heightening in his cheeks.

“
I can’t,” she said more sharply than she’d meant to. “Gentlemen of rank don’t usually have honorable intentions toward unmarried mothers.”

“
He doesn’t have a title. His brother does.”

She frowned at Seth’s flippant tone. “I know.” Which was all the more reason not to get tangled up with either of them. She froze.
Either of them.
  Where had that come from? Seth might have found Lord Norcourt’s false compliment about Seth giving Mr. Appleton a nasty facer just as inappropriately humorous as she did, but Seth hadn’t suggested anything about Lord Norcourt. He was still quite taken with Mr. Appleton. Catching sight of the curious expression on Seth’s face, Lucy said, “It doesn’t matter which one has a title. Neither is interested in making a fallen woman his wife,” she said quietly.

Confusion marred her son’s innocent face and Lucy steeled her spine for the questions he might ask. But she deserved them and she’d answer them. He deserved that. She’d shielded him too long.

“Have you met Mr. Appleton and Lord Norcourt before?”

Lucy was taken aback and a little confused by his question. “No.”

“Then how do you know?”

She licked her lips and idly ran the tips of her fingernails into one of the deepest scratches that covered the top of their dining table. “When I was a girl your age, I had two playmates. One was the heir to a viscountcy and the other was his brother.”

“But Lord Norcourt isn’t a viscount,” he interrupted. “He’s just a baron.”

“
Indeed, but while he’s
just
a baron as you put it, he’s still titled and Mr. Appleton is still his brother.”

“
Were those boys cruel to you?” Seth asked.

“
No, only one,” Lucy said carefully.

“
Was it the heir or the spare?”

Lucy sent him a sharp look. “That’s unimportant.” A wave half-filled of sadness and half-filled with bitterness swept over her. Paul Grimes, the younger brother treated her very well and had been genuine. Sam, the heir, however, had not. And foolish girl she was, had made the wrong choice. She pushed away the memories, then met her son’s sad eyes and forced a wobbly smile. “Seth, you need to understand that I made a poor choice many years ago which I can’t explain while they’re still here; but what I can tell you now is that because of that I cannot marry either of those two gentlemen and we need them to leave immediately.” Not that she’d have had a chance to marry either of them had she not had a bastard. She was born the daughter of a servant—not the kind of lady any man of their station would ever consider for a wife.

Seth looked like he wanted to argue but was halted when the tall, imposing form of Lord Norcourt entered the room. “May I borrow a horse?”

Lucy stared at him as if he were addled and bit her tongue to keep from saying something that might be considered disrespectful. “We don’t have one, my lord.”

He stood still, a blank expression on his face. “Can Simon stay?”

Lucy felt her eyes widen. “Wh-what?” She cast a quick glance to her son who was shaking his head. “Why?”

“One of my horses has thrown a shoe,” he said as if that explained everything.

Which it did. It was too late now for Lord Norcourt’s coachman to take the horse to the village to get it shod. “I suppose you’ll want a place to sleep, too.” She tried to hide the unease in her voice, but Seth’s wince told her she’d failed. Lord Norcourt seemed unaffected, however.

“No, ma’am. I’ll walk to the village.”

Lucy blinked. Surely she hadn’t heard him right. “You will?”

“Yes. But Simon won’t make it.”

“
I know,” Lucy whispered, still in shock. It had been a long time since she’d been in the company of Sam and Paul, but she remembered well enough that Sam had always believed he deserved special treatment over his brother solely because of his title, even if he hadn’t yet inherited it. Oh, for heaven’s sake, this was completely different. Irritated with where her wayward thoughts kept leading her, she stood and said, “All right. He can stay and so can you.”

Chapter Six

Giles couldn’t think of a more awkward arrangement. It was bad enough that Simon was spending the night here, but he was hurt and it couldn’t be helped. That could be overlooked. But a healthy and virile gentleman staying overnight? It’d have her reputation in tatters within the week. He couldn’t be responsible for that. “Thank you, but no.”

A shadow crossed Miss Whitaker’s face. “Just as well. The village is just a mile or so in the direction your coach was traveling before turning down my drive.”

“I trust you can explain this change to my brother, lad?” Giles asked the boy.

Seth bobbed his head with vigor and instinctively, Giles reached out and tousled the boy’s hair. “When will you return, my lord?”

“Sunup.” And he meant it. He couldn’t explain why, but just the thought of seeing one Miss Lucy Whitaker again tomorrow made his body surge with excitement and he didn’t want to waste a single moment he might be afforded in her company. Preposterous, he thought with a simple shake of his head.

“
Are you feeling unwell, my lord?” Lucy asked.

Giles started and instinctively brought his hand to his unsettled stomach. “I’m fine.”

She furrowed her brows and took a step toward him “Are you sure? You look flushed.” She reached up to touch his forehead and he jerked back. But not fast enough, for she skimmed her fingertips just above his eyebrow. “You’re quite warm. Feverish, almost,” she commented, retracting her hand.

Giles choked on his own tongue. Of course he was feverish, his pulse raced like a criminal on the run just by being in her presence. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are.” Lucy reached for him again.

He took an uneasy step back and nearly sighed with relief when she pulled her hand back. “I’m fine,” he repeated, grunting.

“No, you’re stubborn,” she said, crossing her arms.

Giles blinked at her. Nobody had ever called him stubborn before. He’d been called aggravating, dimwitted, and a nuisance before, but never stubborn. “Was that a compliment?” he asked sincerely.

A slow smile spread across her lips and she shook her head. “I suppose it was.”

Giles returned her grin. “Thank you.”

She lowered her head a fraction and touched the fingertips of her right hand to her forehead. “You’re welcome.” A moment later, she looked up and cocked her head to the side, her vivid blue eyes staring right at Giles in a way that made those dratted tingles crawl up his skin anew. “Seth, why don’t you go check on Mr. Appleton,” she murmured.

Giles sidestepped to the left to allow the boy to pass, then turned his attention back to Lucy.

She was smoothing her skirts, a gesture he’d often noticed ladies do when they were uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable. With him. He swallowed and took a step back.

“
Lord Norcourt,” she said, licking her lips.

Giles stared unblinkingly at her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” she said with a swallow.

“
A favor?” What the devil kind of favor could he possibly do for her?

“
Yes, a favor.” She smiled at him and gripped her hands in front of her. “As you already know, it’s just Seth and me who live here and well, it wasn’t too far away that we found your brother, and…” She made a harsh sound in her throat. “Well, as you saw, he was beaten badly, what if the men who did that come back to find him?”

Giles continued to stare at her. What the blazes did she mean? “If they come back?” he asked though he felt like a fool.

“Yes. What if they come back, looking for him?”

“
They’ll find him,” he said automatically.
Why is her mouth hanging open?
he wondered.

“
Lord Norcourt,” she said in a tone he couldn’t place.

“
Yes?”

She sighed. “And what shall I do then?”

Let them take him.
He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the inappropriate response that had come to his mind. Then froze. Since when had his responses—whether appropriate or not—come to his mind so quickly? Never. What had happened? Had he finally been cured of whatever curse had been put on his mind? If he’d known it would take merely the swipe of a beautiful lady’s fingers to free his mind, he’d have been more encouraging of the ladies in Paris. From the recesses of his mind, he heard his name. “Yes?” he said, blinking.

“
My lord, I don’t think you understand.”

“
I usually don’t,” Giles admitted.

Lucy ran her hands over the front of her skirts again.

Taking pity on her, Giles said, “Ma’am, I am a simple man. If there is something you must say, just say it.”

***

If ever there were a time to have the floor beneath her open up and swallow her whole, now would be perfect. Why did the dratted man have to play games? It was obvious he’d been quite pleased with her earlier unintentional compliment, but why did he have to make a dramatic production out of accepting her invitation to stay the night? It was obvious that he wasn’t feverish, and even more obvious that he didn’t like the idea of being thought weak, which is why she’d thought of the idea of playing on his male pride to convince him to stay.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t working so well.

She offered Lord Norcourt her best attempt at a shy smile, but the truth was, she’d been smiling at him so much since he’d arrived that he had to either think she was a simpleton or besotted. Which she wasn’t! Clutching her skirts, she steeled her spine and met his green eyes.

“
Lord Norcourt,” she tried again. “If those men return, I would be powerless to stop them from taking your brother.”

Lord Norcourt seemed unaffected.

“I suppose he’s not a favorite relation of yours,” she ventured. Memories of the hatred and disdain Sam, the heir, held for his younger brother Paul, the spare, filled her mind and a bitter taste flooded her mouth. Apparently Lord Norcourt was exactly the same and now the idea of him staying in her home—sick or not—was less appealing than it had been before he’d first arrived. “Now that I think about it, I think we’ll be fine. They—”

“
Could hurt
you
,” Lord Norcourt cut in, his eyes as big as saucers. Then, if it were possible, they got larger.
“And Seth.”

Now it was Lucy’s turn for her eyes to widen. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Lord Norcourt shook his head vigorously. “No. I’ll stay.”

“
Truly, that’s not necessary. I’m sure they won’t be back,” Lucy said, inwardly cursing herself for ever trying to convince him to stay. She should have just let him go. Damn her caring instinct.

“
No,” he said fiercely. “I’m staying.”

Chapter Seven

“
Do you think the house might collapse?” Seth grumbled as he pulled his pillow over his head and repositioned himself on the settee where he’d tried to sleep.

Lucy grinned. “If it hasn’t happened yet, I think we might be safe.” She rolled out of Seth’s bed. “Why don’t you lie in the bed for a while and see if you can sleep?”

Seth grunted and made his way to the bed where he flopped down in an undignified heap.

Lucy tucked the blankets around her son then slipped out of the room and into the hall where she leaned against the wall and said a silent prayer that Lord Norcourt’s coachman would return soon. She was more than ready for her uninvited guests to leave so she could go to town in search of another post. That would be impossible as long as they were still in residence. Not to mention that she’d been unable to sleep last night and it had nothing to do with Simon’s snoring.

“Everyone’s safe,” Lord Norcourt, the reason she’d been unable to sleep, declared.

Lucy opened her eyes to look at him. Standing in the hall and cloaked in shadows he cut a fine figure. She shivered. “Thank you.”

He made a strangled noise, but didn’t say anything. Either he was embarrassed for some unknown reason or perhaps he didn’t know how to graciously accept a thank you. She nearly snorted. He was a lord, so naturally it was the latter reason.

“
Would you like some breakfast?”

“
Please.”

Lucy made her way to the kitchen, aware he was directly behind her. If his heavy boot falls hadn’t been enough of an indication, the heat his body radiated would have let her know just how close he was. Inside the kitchen, she moved to put some distance between them and went to the window above her worktable and opened the curtains. Taking longer than necessary to move the curtains just so, she racked her brain for what she’d be able to make for breakfast. Nothing she had was acceptable to feed a lord. Sighing, she turned around and gasped.

Quickly, she turned toward the door to her little room where she stored her food.

“
Is something wrong?” Lord Norcourt asked.

Yes, you’re carelessly burning the last of my tallow candles!
She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. “No, my lord.” She took a deep breath. A gentleman of his station didn’t know what it was like to do without or the struggle of having to make a few meager supplies last until the means could be scraped together to get more. She clenched her hands together to keep them from shaking and took another breath.
Just feed them and they’ll go away.

But she had nothing to feed them. Though she worked in a bakery and knew how to make breads and cakes, she couldn’t afford the ingredients necessary to make anything of the like in her own home. “You don’t happen to have a fondness for gruel, do you?” she muttered in a self-mocking tone.

“Don’t mind it,” Lord Norcourt said.

Lucy straightened and chanced a glance over her shoulder at him. He stood with his left shoulder leaning against the wall and his arms crossed, impaling her with his stare.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

“
What for?”

“
My suggestion. I—I—” She swallowed. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been to market recently and I fear I don’t have anything your lordship might enjoy.”

“
Gruel.”

She pursed her lips. Was he mocking her? “Perhaps you’d enjoy some kippers and coddled eggs from the inn in Shrewsbury.”

“Gruel will be fine.”

Lucy didn’t know if it was his mocking words or his tone and superior stance, but something in her snapped. “You wish for gruel, and that is exactly what you shall get.”

A blank expression came over his handsome face. “I like gruel.”

“
No, you don’t,” she said with a harsh laugh. “Nobody
likes
gruel. We just eat it when we’re forced to.”

Lord Norcourt’s body went stiff as a fire poker. “Force?” he barked, a stricken look coming over his face.

She put her hand on her hip. What was it about him that made her react this way? “You know what I meant.”

He shook his head. “No, I do not.”

Frowning, she said, “Lord Norcourt, why do I feel that you’re purposely being diffi—” His lowered lashes and slumped stance halted her words. Was it possible that he was being genuine? Shame washed over her. She didn’t know how or why she suddenly understood, but she did. She still didn’t understand completely, but his earlier statement about being a simple man resounded in her head. He was the sort who was very literal and said exactly what he meant. No games. She could see that now and appreciated him more for being that way, for there’d never be any pretenses with him. Noticing his eyes were still downcast and his cheeks still tinged pink, she snapped her fingers to catch his attention. “If gruel is what you like, then gruel is what I shall make for you,” she said, favoring him with her best grin.

Trying to ignore the way she felt like a fool for such an idiotic statement, Lucy reached for the metal water pail that was on the shelf near where Lord Norcourt was standing.

“Allow me,” he said, his hand reaching out and covering her hand that held the handle of the bucket with his.

Lucy started, but didn’t release her grip on the pail. “The well is just behind the house,” she said as easily as she could considering her heart was slamming against her ribcage and a warmth akin to a small fire blazed up her arm.

He nodded his understanding and gave her bucket a slight jerk.

Lucy’s body pulled forward. “I can’t let go,” she whispered.
Nor did she want to.
Her face flushed at the thought and she jerked at her hand that was still trapped under his.

It all happened so fast, but a second later there was a loud clanging sound reverberating throughout the room as the pail hit the cold stone floor. Lucy brought her hand to her chest.

“Sorry,” he grunted. “I—I—” He closed his mouth and snapped up the bucket then stomped outside.

Lucy buried her head in her hands.
No. Not again. Anything but this
, she thought as memories of the first time she’d had interest in a gentleman flooded her mind. A lord, no less.

She dropped her hands to her side and went to the pantry to busy herself until he returned with the water. Distance. That’s all it would take to make her heart stop thumping and settle her blood. And she’d have distance soon enough. In fact, sooner than she’d originally thought. She didn’t have to stay here until the coachman returned with their horse. As soon as breakfast was ready, she’d leave to look for another post. They should both be gone by the time she returned.

“Here.” Lord Norcourt plunked the heavy bucket of water on the table so hard a little splashed over the side.

“
Thank you.”

He grunted his response.

Doing her best to ignore the imposing figure that watched her, she went about making gruel. When it was finished, she called her son to the room.

“
Shall I go wake Mr. Appleton?” Seth asked.

“
It’s little wonder he hasn’t woken himself already,” Lucy muttered, nodding her affirmation. From the corner of her eye, she caught Lord Norcourt smiling a little at her jest. “I’m sorry.”

He waved his hand in front of his face. “Don’t.”

A moment later a grinning Seth returned.

“
Aren’t you missing someone?” Lucy asked.

“
He has to piss,” Seth said offhandedly.

Lucy’s jaw dropped in mortification and she barely registered that Lord Norcourt said something to her son.

“Excuse me,” Seth said to her quietly. “I didn’t mean to be—” he looked to Lord Norcourt who bent and whispered something in his ear— “indelicate.”

Stunned at what had just happened, Lucy mumbled an acceptance and looked to Lord Norcourt who seemed oblivious to her state of surprise.

“I beg your forgiveness for being tardy,” Mr. Appleton said as he entered the room just then. He ran a hand over the top of his combed hair then straightened his collar. “A gentleman must always remember to attend his
toilette
when in the presence of a fine lady.”

His brother scowled. “You’re missing half of your wardrobe,” he remarked.

Simon shot him what Lucy took to be an annoyed look and ignoring Lord Norcourt, pulled a chair out. “Ma’am.”

“
Thank you, but I won’t be eating.”

All eyes swung to her.

“Why not, Mama?”

She gave Seth what she hoped would be a quelling stare.

No such luck.

“
You don’t have a post to get to since you were late to work yesterday and got sacked.”

Mortification came over Lucy in overwhelming waves.

“You have new employment now,” Lord Norcourt intoned.

“
Pardon me?” Lucy asked, confused. Was he asking her or telling her?

Lord Norcourt clasped his hands behind his back. “I have a post for you.”

Lucy’s face burned with indignation and she pursed her lips. She could only imagine what kind of post he had in mind for her. It wasn’t that she minded being boarded off into the country to do some menial post at his estate. It was the fact of whose estate it’d be. “No, thank you.” She raised her chin. “I will find my own post.”

“
Nonsense, my mother will be happy to have help,” Mr. Appleton said with a flick of his wrist.

Giles stiffened at the mention of their mother, but said nothing.

“Again, no, thank you,” Lucy said. “I don’t think I’d be a very good lady’s companion.” That was true enough, she wouldn’t and it had nothing to do with the fact that if she worked for the dowager Lady Norcourt that she’d have to see Lord Norcourt again.

“
She doesn’t need one,” Simon said with a somewhat mocking twist of his lips. “My mother remarried after the old Lord Norcourt cocked up his toes and now she runs the lending library in London.”

“
The lending library,” Lucy echoed.

Simon nodded. “She’s always saying she could use help.”

The lending library would be a wonderful place to work, but she couldn’t work for Lady Norcourt. That had trouble stamped all over it. “No, thank you. I don’t need anyone’s charity.”