Less Than a Gentleman (7 page)

Jane winced as she accidentally snipped off a live flower. “I . . . uh, had to relieve Haversham from his duties as a butler.”

Caroline’s mouth dropped open. “Oh.” The colors of the flowers wavered before her eyes, and she blinked. She’d been laboring in the heat for too long.

“Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

“I—I’m fine. I hope my behavior this morning didn’t cause . . .” Her voice drifted off. Why did she feel so odd, so empty? She hardly knew the man.

Jane watched her closely. “He’s a handsome man, don’t you think?”

“I . . . suppose. What will happen to him?”

Jane smiled. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll return soon. He’s rather . . . attached to this place.”

Did that mean he was an indentured servant like Betsy? What were his duties exactly? He certainly didn’t appear to have any experience as a butler. As curious as Caroline was, she was reluctant to ask Jane about him. She didn’t want to admit how much he dominated her thoughts.

Her gaze wandered to the latticework that he’d climbed the night before. She hadn’t dared tell anyone that she’d found herself wrestling in bed with a naked man.

“I’ve been meaning to apologize,” Jane said softly. “I understand you were rudely awakened last night.”

Caroline gasped. Had Haversham confessed his crime? Surely he hadn’t mentioned the part about their wrestling?

Jane concentrated on her garden gloves as she removed them. “He assured me that nothing happened.”

“Exactly. Nothing happened. And Haversham apologized.” Heat flooded Caroline’s face. Why was she defending him?

Jane gave her a sympathetic look. “Still, after all you’ve been through, it must have frightened you.” She dropped her gloves into her basket. “These are dangerous times, so we lock the house up at night. The only way Haversham could enter was to climb the latticework. He thought the bedchamber was unoccupied.”

“I see.” Though Caroline wondered why he had jumped to the conclusion that she was there to trap him into marriage.

“I wanted to warn you,” Jane continued. “He may need to enter that way again.”

“I understand,” Caroline assured her. “I’m perfectly happy to sleep in the nursery.”

Jane shook her head. “It would be too crowded. We’ll move you to the guest room.” She motioned to the small balcony above the morning parlor. “It has a smaller bed, but I believe you’ll be quite comfortable there.”

The room overlooked the garden like Matthias’s room, but there was no latticework below the balcony. No way to access the room from outside.

Caroline smiled. “It looks perfect. Thank you.” At last she could look forward to a night of peaceful slumber.

C
HAPTER
S
EV
EN

A
n hour after sunset, Matthias eased into the kitchen, surprising Betsy and Dottie as they ate their evening meal. “I hope you have some stew left for me.”

Dottie grunted as she hefted herself to her feet. “Didn’t you say you’d be gone for a few days? I should have known better than to believe a rascal like you.”

Matthias grinned as sat at the table. “How could I stay away from your cooking?”

Dottie’s mouth twitched as she ladled the last of the stew into a bowl. “Somehow I don’t think it’s my cooking that’s brought you here.”

No, it wasn’t. All day long Matthias had looked forward to confronting the little vixen who had wheedled her way into his house with her lies and deception. By God, he would wring a confession from her before the night was through.

Betsy set a square of cornbread in front of him. “You smell like smoke.”

“Aye. We’ve been burning boats and bridges.” He slathered some butter on the cornbread and took a bite. It melted in his mouth. “Damn, Dottie. You’re the best.”

She snorted as she handed him a bowl of stew. “That is true, but I can’t take credit for the cornbread.”

He glanced at Betsy, and she shook her head.

“Miss Ludlow made it.” Betsy poured him a mug of ale.

“The false Agatha?” He looked askance at the cornbread and nudged the saucer away. “Did she put poison in it?”

“Don’t be silly, boy.” Dottie sat down to resume her eating. “Why would that sweet girl do something like that?”

“
Sweet?
” Matthias gulped down some ale to wash away the taste of the vixen’s cooking. “She’s a liar. With sharp teeth.”

“I like her,” Betsy said quietly as she sat across from him. “She doesn’t act as if she’s better than us.”

“Yep.” Dottie buttered her cornbread. “She’s a sweet girl, all right.”

“She’s deceiving my mother,” Matthias growled.

“She’s made your mother very happy,” Dottie argued.

“She’s made us all happy,” Betsy added. “She cleaned the nursery today, so I wouldn’t have to. And she helped your mother in the garden.”

“More proof that she’s lying,” Matthias grumbled. “The real Agatha Ludlow would never engage in physical labor.”

Dottie snorted. “So now you find fault with her for working hard?”

Actually, he was impressed, but since he didn’t want to admit it, he ate his stew in silence.

“She helped us cook dinner,” Dottie continued, “even though I told her she didn’t need to.”

Betsy nodded. “And she helped me carry all the dishes to the Great House. She doesn’t want her family to be a burden on us.”

So the little vixen had a guilty conscience and was trying to atone for her crime with hard labor. Did that mean she regretted her lie? Matthias shoved that thought away. He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for her.

But if she had behaved like the real Agatha, she wouldn’t have helped the servants. She would have made them miserable with her selfish demands. What if Caroline Munro was actually a kindhearted person?

He finished his stew and eyed the cornbread. It would be a shame for it to go to waste, especially when there was so much hunger in the world.

“Eat.” Dottie shoved the saucer closer to him.

He took another bite. Damn, it really was good. And if she was making his mother happy . . .

He shook his head. He wouldn’t excuse her deceit. Even if she was beautiful. And hardworking. And kind and helpful to the servants. He’d still wring a confession from her tonight. Before he was done with her, she’d know the full power of his wrath.

He smiled as a vision flitted through his mind. She would fall to her knees, begging forgiveness, and he, being a gentleman, would be merciful and allow her to remain at the house. In gratitude, she would sink into his arms, and he would hold her close to comfort her. With a gentle sigh of surrender, her pretty mouth would open, and he would . . .

He winced, quickly reining in his errant thoughts. Apparently, he was less than a gentleman.

Dottie gathered up the dirty dishes. “If you spend the night here, I can make more bread in the morning for your boys in the swamp.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Dottie smiled, then motioned toward the bathing room. “You should wash up before seeing your mother. There are some clean clothes in the cupboard.”

Ten minutes later, he stood in the garden, studying the balcony to his bedchamber. The window was slightly ajar. Most probably, Miss Munro was sleeping in his bed again.

As hard as she had worked all day, she might be sound asleep. Was it necessary to confront her tonight? He could unmask her in the morning just as well. And he should do it with his mother present. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to hold her. Or comfort her.

Aye, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that being alone with Caroline Munro was dangerous. He shoved his damp hair back from his brow and entered the house through the back door. Betsy usually locked up before retiring to her small room on the third floor, but she was washing dishes now in the kitchen. The arrival of Miss Munro and her family had increased the workload for Betsy and Dottie, but they didn’t seem to mind. They liked her. Even though they knew she was lying.

He strolled up the stairs to his mother’s bedchamber, then knocked on the door and peered inside.

“Matthias!” Jane whispered excitedly as she climbed out of bed and rushed toward him. “I didn’t expect you back tonight.”

“Disappointed?”

“Don’t be silly.” She looked him over. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I came back to confront the false Agatha. I’m reasonably certain I have discovered her true identity. She’s—”

“Don’t tell me,” Jane interrupted.

“Don’t you want to know who is sleeping in your house?”

“She’ll tell me when she’s ready. I want her to trust me.”

He scoffed. “How can you trust
her
when you know she’s lying?”

Jane gave him an annoyed look. “Have you even attempted to see this from her perspective? She’s trying to take care of two children and a sister who’s about to give birth. The British burned their homes in Charles Town and on the Pee Dee. The poor girl is desperate to provide a safe haven for her family. Desperate enough to agree to marry a man she’s never met. A man, who could, as far as she knows, be an absolute monster.”

“Why, thank you, Mother.”

She huffed. “You know what I mean. Under the circumstances, I find her quite admirable.”

He shifted his weight. Had she really agreed to marry him? In that case, the little vixen might actually be a fortune hunter after all. “She knows me as a penniless servant. I would like to remain so.”

Jane gave him a wry look. “If you persist in lying to her, you can hardly object to her lies.” She wandered back to her bed and perched on the edge. “Do you know if she’s from a good family?”

“Her father’s a major in the army.”

“Ah.” Jane’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Then she’s an excellent match for you.”

He frowned. “I told you. I will not marry as long as—”

“Are you staying for the night?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose she’s in my bed again.”

Jane smiled. “The guest room will suit you nicely.”

A
sliver of moonlight shone through the open window in the guest room, casting a silver sheen over the mosquito netting that draped the bed. Matthias kicked off his shoes as he closed the door with a slight click.

The sound of rustling sheets emanated from the bed.

He turned, narrowing his eyes.

“Is someone there?” a female voice whispered.

He scoffed. His mother was up to her old tricks. At least tonight he wasn’t naked. “I beg your pardon, Miss . . . Ludlow. I’ll be on my way.” He stuffed his feet back into his shoes.

“Haversham? Is that you?”

“Aye. I’ll leave—”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

The netting swayed, and the scent of magnolia wafted toward him, tempting him. In the dim light, he caught a glimpse of her white nightgown as she slipped out of bed.

“I was afraid you had lost your employment. Although Jane mentioned that you were somehow attached to this place.”

“Aye. I’m afraid she’s stuck with me.” He fingered the door latch, debating whether to leave. Was there any harm in merely talking to her?

“Then you’re an indentured servant? Like Betsy?”

Her question caught him by surprise. So she thought he was not only a penniless servant, but an indentured one. “Would you think less of me if I were?”

“No, of course not. My father came to the New World as an indentured servant.”

“He did?” Matthias had a hard time imagining the huge Scotsman as a servant.

“Aye. ’Tis nothing to be ashamed of. Father always says a man can succeed in America if he’s willing to work hard. Though I have to admit, my father didn’t serve the entire seven years.”

“Why not?”

“ ’Tis a long story. Were you intending to sleep here? I could move to the nursery.” She passed through a beam of moonlight.

Matthias caught his breath. She was in a dark corner now, where she’d left a bundle of clothes on a chair, but for a few glorious seconds he’d seen her clearly. She’d looked like an angel with the moonbeam glowing around her and her hair tumbled about her shoulders in curly disarray.

His voice sounded choked. “Don’t go.”

“ ’Tis late,” she whispered from the dark corner.

“I know. I’ll sleep elsewhere.” He hesitated with his hand on the door latch. What had happened to the confession he had wanted to wring from her? Suddenly, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone mistreating her. No longer did he want to intimidate her. He wanted her to trust him. “I would like to hear more about your father.”

“You would?”

“Aye.” He wandered toward the window and looked out at the garden below. Moonlight sparkled on the pond. “When did your father come to America?”

“In ’47.” She wandered toward him, clasping a shawl around her shoulders. Her nightgown, most probably borrowed from his mother, wasn’t long enough for the length of her legs, so he was afforded a view of shapely calves, delicate ankles, and slender feet.

He sucked in a deep breath. Could an angel affect a man like this?

She stopped next him and peered out at the garden. “Father’s ship landed near Williamsburg, and he was purchased by a professor from the College of William and Mary. The professor was an excellent teacher, but not very good about practical matters. It wasn’t long before my father was entrusted with all his business affairs.”

“And then?” Matthias grew increasingly curious. He might actually know the professor. Before joining the army, he had studied at the College of William and Mary.

“Since the professor’s wife had died, his daughter was running the household,” Miss Munro continued. “She and my father fell into a struggle over which one of them was actually in charge. And at the same time they were falling in love. She’s my mother, of course. And Grandpa gave my father his freedom as a wedding gift.”

“Who was the professor?”

“Tobias Oglethorpe.”

Oglethorpe was her grandfather? Matthias leaned against the wall just beyond the beam of moonlight. Oglethorpe was the best teacher he’d ever had. “That’s a good story.”

“I’ve always liked it. When I was young, I would beg Mother to tell it to me, over and over.”

“Of course, most people in Charles Town would know that Agatha Ludlow’s father was never an indentured servant.”

Miss Munro winced, then gave him an injured look. “Is that why you encouraged me to tell the story? So you could trap me?”

“No. I liked your story. But shouldn’t you be honest with Mrs. Thomas?”

A pained look crossed Miss Munro’s face. “Jane has been so kind to us. I feel . . . terrible.” She turned abruptly and headed back to the dark corner.

“Then tell her the truth.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. The tears in her eyes made his stomach clench. “Tell me.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know whom to trust anymore.”

“You can trust me.” He smoothed away her tear with this thumb. “Mrs. Thomas will not make you leave. You’re safe here.”

Another tear escaped. “That was all I wanted. A safe place for the children. And my sister.”

“I know.” He held her gently by the shoulders.

She clutched her shawl tightly as she searched his eyes. He stared back, willing her to trust him.

“My name is Caroline. Caroline Munro.”

A sensation of victory burst inside him. “Miss Munro.”

“Yes?”

“A pleasure to meet you.” His gaze lowered to her mouth.

“I . . . appreciate that, sir.”

He leaned closer.

She jumped back. “I should go now, so you can sleep.”

“No. Stay. I’ll go.” He hurried to the door and closed it firmly behind him. Good God, he had almost kissed her! He must be losing his mind.

He bounded up the stairs to Haversham’s old room on the third floor. As he undressed, he found himself smiling. He hadn’t needed to force a confession from her. She’d trusted him enough to tell him the truth. Even though she thought he was a penniless, indentured servant, she trusted him.

And it felt damned good.