Edith Layton (7 page)

Her work load was greater, but being busy made her happier than she could remember being in years. Her life actually seemed more important somehow. The Earl of Drummond never left the bedchamber, but she felt his presence everywhere in the house. She found herself wondering what he’d like for dinner, what he’d say about the news in the paper, what he’d think if she wore a rose-colored ribbon in her hair. He never complained, though his inactivity clearly galled him. He might be a high-born lord, but there were times—too
many to suit Alexandria’s sense of what was right—when she forgot his rank and only thought of his charm and appeal. So she made sure she was never alone with him. It turned out she never had a chance to be.

She and Mrs. Tooke regularly shared merry breakfasts and luncheons with him. The boys entertained him when they got home. The doctor visited frequently. The earl had been with them less than a week, and he’d completely changed the pattern of their lives.

He was as rare, fascinating, and impermanent as a swiftly falling comet that suddenly streaked across their sky. And so she shouldn’t have been surprised that everything around them kept changing, just as it had since the day they’d found him.

The boys woke at dawn, as usual. They ate, hitched Thunder to the cart, and rode off to school. Alexandria and Mrs. Tooke prepared a tray and brought it up to their guest.

“Ah, the second wave. Good morning,” he said happily when he saw them. The boys saw to his personal needs before they left, and it was the women’s task to feed him. He hated being so dependent and they all knew it, but he tried to make a pleasantry of it and so did they.

They’d brought the paper for him to read when they had to leave to do their chores, and he read bits of it aloud now, commenting as he did. The man may have been half dead only days before, Alexandria thought, eyeing him closely, but now his color was good, his eyes clear, and his bruises fading. If it weren’t for the splint on his leg, no one would guess he’d ever been in danger at all.

They were chatting about the news from London when a sudden clatter and clamor outside made Alexandria’s head snap up. She stared out the window. A coach was pulling up the drive—no, two! With two liveried outriders on fine horses beside them. There hadn’t been so much commotion out there since Mr. Gascoyne had died. There had never been such elegant traffic.

“What is it?” Drum asked, pausing mid-jest.

“Company,” she breathed in wonder, leaning on her elbows to see out the window. One of the coaches had a crest, the other was travel stained, but still polished so brightly the sun’s reflection on its glossy surface brought tears to her eyes. That glossy coach held so many cases and boxes on its top it looked like moving day. “For you.”

Alexandria and Mrs. Tooke hurried down to the drive. A neatly dressed wiry man stepped out of one of the carriages. He bowed as they came near.

“Good afternoon,” he said carefully. “I’m Austin Grimes, the Earl of Drummond’s valet. He sent for me. I believe he’s here?” But the look in his colorless eyes as he glanced around showed he could hardly believe it.

He addressed Mrs. Tooke. She gestured to Alexandria. “I’m only a visitor myself. Here is Miss Gascoyne, his hostess.”

“Yes, he’s here,” Alexandria said. “But before you go up to see him, there are some things it would be better we settled right now.”

Grimes was grave as she told him about his master’s medical condition, and all the doctor’s warnings. Then she told him where he could go.

“You’ve packed enough for a family of eight, and I’m sure the earl appreciates it, but that’s all he can do from here. There’s not an inch more room in my house, as you can see,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of her cottage. “Even the stables are stuffed. But the doctor said you could stay on with him at his home. It’s a nice house, but not on a grand scale. Nothing here is. Even he hasn’t got room for five more people, so I’d suggest your…companions return to London—with most of that baggage.”

She waited for his reaction. She got the feeling she could have waited another year.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a little desperately. “It must have been a long, hard journey. But your master’s doing well. It’s just that there’s not a speck more room here, you see.”

He waited to see if she’d add more. When she didn’t, he thanked her, and went up to his master’s bedchamber. She was left to look at the other servants. The coachman stayed atop their carriages, looking down at her warily. The two outriders dismounted and stood by their horses, dust covered and obviously weary. “There’s just room in the kitchen for the two at a time,” she told them, “but you can come in that way, in turn. We’ve cider, tea and cakes.”

Now they looked uneasy as well.

Mrs. Tooke folded her hands in her apron. “You may leave the coaches where they are for the time being,” she told them, her voice firm and clear. “Tether all the horses near the stable or let them graze in the field nearby. There is hay and water, but no room for them inside. Then you may use the pump to wash up, and I’ll bring out some refreshments for you.”

“Yes ma’am!” They nodded in unison, looking relieved, and went to do as she said.

“They’re servants to a nobleman,” Mrs. Tooke explained to Alexandria as they went back into the house. “They like to be told what to do, and don’t want to put a foot wrong. We’ll ask his lordship what’s to be done with them, but until then they need direction, you see.”

“Well, now I do,” Alexandria said, abashed. “There are some things books can’t tell you. Mr. Gascoyne knew everything about etiquette, but he never dealt with this class of people.”

“He did deal with them,” Mrs. Tooke said. “And with their sons, just not well. He knew a great deal, I’m sure. Forgive me for saying so, but he was never very good with people of any class, high or low. That’s why he had to come here, wasn’t it?”

Alexandria nodded, looking wistful. “That’s true. He was never happy with the nobility. He said blood was no indication of character, though the nobility believed it was. He wasn’t happy with the middle class either. He said ‘Money doesn’t make the man, though the man usually thinks it does.’ That was one of his favorite jokes.” It was easy for her to remember that. He hadn’t had many jests. “The other thing he always said was that peasants were peasants, and there was no help for it, or them,” she added, looking so unhappy Mrs. Tooke frowned.

“And so he approved of…?”

“Himself. And his friends—I think,” Alexandria said. “But he was a charitable man for all that. Don’t think I’m complaining. I’d be an ingrate if I did.” She looked pensive. “I think he was one of those men who say one thing and do another. Like Mr. Bailey at the
store in town. He says he has no use for children, but when the boys fetch the groceries for me they always find extra sweets in the parcel when they get home.”

“Mr. Bailey does detest children. Those sweets are to win your approval,” Mrs. Tooke said.

“No,” Alexandria scoffed. “Why, he’s almost as old as Mr. Gascoyne was.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Tooke said, “the age when a man hopes free sweets win smiles, especially if he has those and nothing else.”

Alexandria turned wide eyes on her guest. “Never say! But he’s never said a thing to make me think otherwise!”

“Yes he has, but you wisely haven’t heard them. Just as well,” Mrs. Tooke said. “He’s much too old for you.”

Now Alexandria scoffed. But she did it silently as she went to help Mrs. Tooke get refreshments for all their unexpected guests.

“N
O,” A
LEXANDRIA SAID AS CALMLY AS SHE
could, though she was ridiculously close to tears, “no, thank you. It’s not necessary. No. It’s preposterous!”

The boys looked disappointed. Mrs. Tooke looked thoughtful. The doctor scowled.

Drum looked at Alexandria with compassion.

“Please understand,” he said. “I don’t mean to insult you. But I’m a lazy, self-indulgent creature. All I’m asking, and I know it’s presumptuous, is if you could see your way clear to allowing me to do this? It would make my life so much more pleasant,” he added piteously. “I’ve had such pain and suffering, it would be pleasant to have something go right for a change.”

She gritted her teeth. He wasn’t the sort of man to feel sorry for himself. He was amusing himself at her expense.

“If it helps you in the process, then good,” he went on. “I don’t see how it can do any harm.”

“It’s absurd,” she said. “You’ll have your valet. There’s no need for you to have two more of your servants staying on here. Servants in a
cottage
?” Her voice went up. She heard the shrillness in it, and took a deep breath.

“No,” he said smoothly. “Servants in a barn.”

“In a barn, then,” she said, trying for patience. “It’s just as silly, and don’t say they’re needed to take care of all the horses,” she added hotly, “because there wouldn’t be so many horses here if it weren’t for them.” She took another breath. “Listen, my lord. You’re sending your coaches back to London, and I suggest you do the same with your grooms.”

“They’ll act as footmen,” he said.

“Grooms, footmen, it makes no difference!” she burst out. “That’s two more men and two more horses. Three servants for one man? There’s no room for any more cattle
or
people here, and it’s the height of absurdity
and
arrogance for you to suggest your men build on to the barn to make room for themselves!” She heard someone in the room gasp, and tensed even more.

“Height of imposition, perhaps,” he said smoothly. “But arrogance? I certainly didn’t intend that. I have to stay on here for weeks more. Surely adding on to your barn can’t be a wicked thing? I’m not asking to add on to your house, which is charming as it is. Besides,” he added, “all that hammering would give me a headache and I’m sure the doctor wouldn’t approve.

“But making your barn bigger?” he asked. “Those men were once my companions in arms. We’ve pitched camp in other circumstances where I needed them with me, but tents would look awkward here. They’re also
resourceful and handy. They took measurements. We drew up plans. All they need is materials. I’ll provide them. Then they can extend the barn, double it in a matter of days. Another day and they’ll have sturdy sleeping lofts constructed. That way there would be a place for them to sleep as well as room for Mr. Grimes to stay on in.

“It would mean we wouldn’t have to impose on the doctor,” he explained. “It would mean you wouldn’t have to fetch and carry for me anymore, and I can get on with my affairs while I’m here. And when I leave I’d be able to leave more than dirty sheets behind me. Where’s the harm in that?”

The boys looked at her with hope. The barn was tiny, in need of repair. An addition to it would mean more room for their animals, even for them to play.

But it was wrong. Alexandria knew it in her heart, and sought words to explain why. It was impossible, because the truth was the harm would only be to her pride and happiness. Because while she was taking care of him she felt like an equal, not a servant. If he threw his largesse around, she’d feel like a paid nurse. That was what she would be.

She’d taken him in out of pity. She was
not
a beggar. She had worked hard and now was rightful mistress of this place, with enough to sustain herself and the boys. It wasn’t a castle and she wasn’t wealthy, but now that she was answerable to no one but herself she’d again never allow herself to feel like a supplicant in her own house.

She’d already compromised her principles. They’d just finished quarreling about another touchy point, and he’d won that one. He’d insisted on paying for
their food, arguing she had more mouths to feed now. It was true, she didn’t have enough money to feed them all—at least, not well—so she’d had to give in to that. Now he was asking to improve her home in ways she could not.

She knew it would as easy for him as buying a new jacket, and that it would be impossible for her to afford. It would also be like getting something for nothing, perilously close to charity. She’d had enough of that. She didn’t have much, but her pride was her armor against a world that knew her circumstances. She could never tell him so, but it gave her an idea of what to say.

“And what will the rest of the world think?” she asked haughtily.

She saw his confusion, and felt much better. “My dear sir,” she said, “when you do leave here, what do you think people will say about the fact that I entertained a nobleman for weeks at my home and after he was gone he left me with an entirely new structure?”

She had the pleasure of seeing him lose his cool composure. Only it wasn’t the way she’d wanted him to.

Drum threw back his head and roared with laughter. Mrs. Tooke hid a smile and the doctor grinned. The boys looked as confused as Alexandria did.

“Oh, my dear Miss Gascoyne,” Drum finally said, wiping his eyes. “A
structure
, is it? Where does that weigh on the scale of respectability, do you think? From your reaction one might think a gentleman leaving a lady with a ‘structure’ is almost as bad as him leaving her with a babe. I don’t think you mean that. A barn won’t adorn you, though perhaps it’s a more intimate
gift than a box of candy, I agree. Still, I don’t know many ladies who get barns from their”—he glanced at the boys and added innocently—“gentleman guests. So I can’t say.”

The boys snickered. Alexandria, red-faced, shot them a quelling look.

“I can’t say,” Drum repeated, “but I can guess. I imagine people will think the Earl of Drummond is as bad as any other idle aristocrat, always altering the world to suit his own needs. Confined to bed for only a month, and building a
whole barn
for his convenience? They’ll be shocked and appalled. I’ll look like a spoiled, jaded eccentric. It will add to my reputation enormously, and not touch yours at all. Given my arrogance, along with a superior knowledge of this cruel old world, permit me to say I think most people will wish I’d broken my leg on
their
front doorstep.”

Everyone in the room laughed. Except Alexandria. He’d made her look silly. And why not? she thought with resignation. He mightn’t really be a spoiled eccentric, but he was a man with a title, money, and power. Her pride couldn’t compete with that. Who cared about her pride but her anyway? She’d been a fool to think she could deny him anything he wanted. But she could at least stop playing the fool.

“Fine,” she said, lowering her head. “Do it then. I see my objections were unreasonable.”

She turned on her heel and left the room, and so didn’t see his frown as he looked after her.

Alexandria was taking out her frustrations on the weeds in her kitchen garden when the boys came to tell
her there was a surprise waiting for her upstairs. She left the garden and went up the stairs with dread and anticipation. She couldn’t imagine what it was, and certainly didn’t want another present from her imperious guest.

She had avoided him since their confrontation the night before, her excuse being she was too busy. She’d seen to it that she was. But he’d been busier, his servants going up and down the stairs all evening, until she shooed them out of the house for the night. They’d rolled themselves up in blankets and camped on her doorstep, or as near to it as not. They’d slept in the barn. She’d kept looking out the window, worried about the dampness and inconvenience they must be suffering, but they didn’t seem a whit the worse for wear this morning.

They’d been at work since sunup, making marks, hammering in posts, stringing twine grids, laying the groundwork for when the lumber arrived. Even now she could see that the barn would be bigger than the cottage when it was done. Although she tried to quash the thoughts because it made her original protests seem foolish even to herself, she couldn’t help getting excited thinking about the chickens she could have now, the extra storage space. Maybe a room for the boys to play or study in if the finished structure were snug and sound enough…

She paused at the doorstep to her bedchamber, her eyes widening. A tall, dark, elegant gentleman was sitting in a chair by the window. She was so startled it took her a second to realize he wasn’t a stranger. It was only when she noticed the man was wearing a long
colorful dressing robe over his shirt that she saw who it was. That, and the fact that he had one long leg propped on a stool—one long splinted leg.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” Drum said, smiling, gesturing for her to come in. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

He looked very different from the bedridden invalid she’d known. There wasn’t a particle of vulnerability left to him. Hauteur, power and elegance marked his every gesture. She restrained an impulse to curtsy. Her eyes went dark and she lowered her gaze. “I was very busy,” she said, then added, “I see you’re feeling better.”

“I am, thank you. A man’s attitude toward his sickness can go a long way to curing it. I’m shaved and dressed, after a fashion. Having my own clothes and sitting in a chair makes me feel like a healthy man again. Not that you didn’t do your best for me, of course,” he added quickly, “But Grimes knows my ways, and I don’t hesitate to impose on him.”

She only nodded, holding her hands clasped in front of her like a housekeeper waiting for her orders.

He gazed at her and felt a pang of sympathy and humor, intermixed. He knew many beautiful women, as well as homely ones, but none so dowdy as his hostess this morning. She wore a dreadful old gown. It might have had a floral pattern, once upon a time. It had traces of vague roses on it, and fit loosely, and didn’t fit her inherent natural elegance at all.

She’d stopped by the window, standing with the sunlight behind her and he suddenly realized the fabric of her gown was so old and thin it was transparent. He saw the outline of the swell of her slender rib cage, the sweet arc of a breast rising above it. He looked away
quickly. The pretty pink circle he saw might have been that of a faded flower but it also might have been the flowering bud of a pert and lovely breast.

He damned the sudden spontaneous rise of his own flesh in response, the flash of warmth that suffused his groin. It was instinctive and he knew it, but he couldn’t afford to look further. Women of fashion wet down their thin gowns to get the same effect from a man but he knew this woman would probably rather drown herself entirely than do that. In fact, he was sure it would horrify her if she knew what he’d glimpsed. It would definitely endanger him if he kept looking. This was one woman he couldn’t toy with.

He sternly repressed all traces of his physical response and discounted any mental ones as he reminded himself of facts that would still his unruly desires. Desire was not destiny. He wasn’t a randy boy. Lust could be easily sated with no risk. He knew his worth. He was a nobleman of ancient lineage who needed a wife. That lady had to please his father as well as suit his own rank and station. He had enough money to buy a harem, but charming as this woman was, he simply couldn’t afford her.

He looked at Alexandria’s face to see if she’d noticed his unsought reaction to her body. She’d turned her head and was gazing out the window. He took the opportunity to study her, surprised to see she wasn’t her usual neat self. There was a smudge of gold on one cheek. The boys said she was gardening, so it must be pollen. Some lucky bee would find her delicious, he thought. There was a streak of dirt on one white arm, leaves and twigs in her mussed hair, and she avoided his eyes.

No wonder she avoids me,
he thought with guilty compassion, seeing how she glanced everywhere but at him.
It isn’t my lechery. She never noticed that. It’s because she tries to hide her feelings, but they’re too easy to read.

An admiring glance embarrassed her, a compliment thrilled and alarmed her, a flirtatious glance entirely disarmed and flustered her. Strange thing, he reflected, because she usually had the calm assurance of a woman up to snuff, as men described a female who knew the score and had played a game or two herself. It was clear she hadn’t.

A pity he could offer her no more than flirtation, he thought, and if he was really kind he should offer considerably less. But maybe someday, somehow, he could help her. It was clear she needed some help, after all.

There was the matter of her curious isolation, for example. He’d been here for days and she’d had no company except for the doctor and Mrs. Tooke, who’d been brought by the doctor’s summons. She took care of the boys like a mother, ran the house like a drill sergeant, and went over their lessons with them as well as any schoolmaster he’d ever had. Mother, soldier, and teacher, but never lover? She was a mass of contradictions. A simple country woman with more education than most men he’d met. A beautiful woman without suitors, and seemingly no desire to find any? Or at least, no resources to help her do it. He was always fascinated by a mystery, and it bothered him to see her go to waste.

“I can move around the room now too,” he said, to break the sudden silence that had fallen over them.
“Well, not really. Grimes moves me. But not as much as you do. Did I really insult you?” he asked suddenly. “I never meant to alienate you. I have, haven’t I? I had company all morning, but wondered where you were. Mrs. Tooke was a delightful companion at breakfast. I met with my men. Grimes was here, of course. The boys came before they went to school, but they said you were busy. Busy avoiding me. I’m sorry for that. Can we be friends again? I’ve missed you.”

That made her look at him in surprise. “Missed me?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“I don’t lie,” he said seriously, looking into her eyes directly. Something in her gaze made him lower his. He brushed at an invisible spot on his silken robe. “I’ll embellish the truth, of course,” he added, “and avoid it sometimes too. But I never lie.”