Lost Lords 6 - Not Quite a Wife (8 page)

“Barring a medical emergency, I’ll be there,” he promised. “Will Kirkland attend?”

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t heard about it yet, but he’ll be back here soon. He did express a desire to meet my friends and coworkers.”

Daniel nodded. “He and I can practice being civil to each other.”

“Civility is our goal.” Laurel left, hoping that her brother and her husband could become friends again. Friendship was too precious to waste.

K
irkland was playing the piano softly and wondering if Laurel would appear so they could dine together, when she bustled into the music room, face flushed and her hair showing considerable independence. She looked so charming that he had to force himself not to cross the room and embrace her.

He rose, keeping the piano safely between them. “You look as if you’ve been very busy. If you have too much to do, we can delay another day.” He liked referring to the two of them as “we.”

She shook her head. “Staying longer would be an anticlimax when everyone is saying good-bye. Speaking of which, there will be an informal going-away party tonight at Zion House. Do you wish to attend?”

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Your friends need to see that I don’t have horns, hooves, and a pointed tail. By the way, I heard that Daniel has returned.”

“I just spoke with him, and he’s also choosing civility. He’ll be there tonight if he isn’t called out on an emergency.” She smiled ruefully. “He still has some doubts about my sanity, but he does wish us well.”

“I’m glad.” Hesitantly, since he wasn’t used to showing emotion, he added, “I hope that someday he and I can be friends again.”

“I hope so, too.” She tucked a tendril of bronze hair behind her ear. Her elegant, delectable ear . . . “Violet is willing to see if she can make me fashionable in London.”

He nodded. “You have countenance, which is even better than fashion, but it will be good to have a familiar face near you.”

“I thought the same thing.” Laurel’s expression turned serious. “She thinks that Captain Hardwick has men watching her, with the goal of abducting her.”

Kirkland frowned. “He’s capable of that. She’ll be safer in London.”

“She and I can discover the city together,” Laurel observed. “Shall we go down to supper, my lord? It will be a light meal because of the party. Mrs. Wicker wouldn’t let me in the kitchen, so she must be making something special.”

“I look forward to the gathering.” He offered Laurel his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted, her hand curving lightly onto his coat sleeve. He could barely feel the brush of her fingers, but even that slight touch warmed him. They were making progress—she was touching him even without an audience.

Where would they be after a month under the same roof?

After they ate, Kirkland waited for Laurel while she changed and fixed her hair. She appeared in the same celestial blue gown she’d worn to call on her parents, but someone, presumably her new maid, Violet, had cut the bodice dramatically. Too much so for Laurel, who had tucked a demure white fichu around the neckline. Even covered up, she was beautiful.

And she was wearing her wedding ring. His gaze locked onto the gold band. “I see you found your ring,” he said, his throat tight.

“It was never lost,” she said quietly.

He raised her left hand and kissed the gold band on her ring finger, then wondered if he’d exposed too much of himself. If she knew how he really felt, she’d bolt. Releasing her hand, he said lightly, “It’s good to see it again.”

“I’m not wearing gloves tonight so that everyone can see the ring and know that we really are married,” she explained as she led him out into the large walled garden that joined the houses.

It was still light, so he looked around appreciatively as they followed a wide, curving flagstone path to the other house. Besides flowers and shrubs, there were vegetable and herb gardens and fruit trees espaliered against the stone walls. “The garden is handsome and also practical, I see. Your work?”

“It’s the personal project of Anne Wilson, the matron of Zion House. She puts residents to work out here. Women who have been abused find it soothing to work with plants and flowers.” Laurel gestured toward the vegetable beds. “Being able to produce some of our own food is useful as well.”

They paused beside a handsome wooden bench set under an arch covered with flowering vines. “I see there are places to relax and enjoy the quiet as well. Another benefit for those in need of sanctuary?”

Laurel nodded. “Violet sits out here every day for at least a few minutes. She says that she likes the freedom to just sit without worrying about being punished for not being busy.”

He brushed his fingertips over the beautifully carved wood of the bench’s back and arms. “Were the benches made locally? I’ve not seen any like them.”

“One of Zion House’s few male residents did the carving. He’s a sailor who carved to amuse himself on long voyages,” she explained. “He does beautiful work.”

“How did he come to live here? I had the impression that Zion House residents were all women and children.”

“He was in the navy and lost a leg in a sea battle with the French. He’s one of half a dozen men, mostly former soldiers and sailors, all of them handicapped in one way or another. They live in remodeled mews on the alley that runs alongside that wall.”

“Separated from the women because men can’t be trusted?” Kirkland asked dryly.

“Let’s say that it’s wise to reduce temptation on both sides,” she replied. “It’s useful to have male residents. Despite their disabilities, they can do much of the heavier work, and they also serve as guards.”

“Guards?” he asked, then guessed the answer. “To protect women against abusive husbands.”

“Exactly. We almost had a murder here once, until one of our former soldiers stepped in. He’s missing an arm, but he still knows how to be a soldier.” She frowned. “Most of the females who leave here can find decent positions in service, but it’s harder to find jobs for the men.”

“Work is the key, isn’t it?” he said thoughtfully. “It sounds as if Zion House needs to start its own businesses to provide jobs. Starting with a woodshop.”

“I’ve thought about doing that, but I’m not sure how to go about starting businesses and I haven’t had time to learn.” She glanced up through her lashes. “Start-up money would also be required.”

“And you’re already stretching every penny until it squeaks?” he said with amusement. “I can give you more funding, and I know a man in Birmingham who has set up several small manufactories. I think he could be persuaded to come to Bristol to help you do the same.”

“That would be marvelous!” Laurel’s eyes glowed.

“While you’re in London, perhaps you’ll have the time to research what would be suitable and successful in Bristol,” he suggested. “Then you can write a proposal and we can get to work.”

“I’ll do that.” She hesitated. “What if our reconciliation fails?”

He hated that she was even thinking of the possibility. “I’ll still provide the funding and aid needed,” he promised. “I like using my money to do good, Laurel. I just don’t have the time to find appropriate uses. I’ll leave that to you.”

As they approached the sanctuary house, Kirkland heard music. “Dancing tonight? Will there be enough male partners?”

“No, but that won’t stop anyone from dancing! I can’t remember the last time I danced,” she said wistfully.

“It will be my pleasure to partner you,” he said. “That will also help us persuade your friends that we’re happy together.”

“That you don’t have horns and hooves,” she said with a smile as she took his arm in a possessive wifely way.

He opened the door and voices and music flowed around them as they stepped into the small foyer. To the left, adjoining reception rooms had been opened into a decent-sized ballroom. At the far end was an elderly piano with an elderly but skilled female pianist. Seated beside her, a grizzled man with a wooden leg played zestfully on a fiddle. Chairs were set against all the walls, most of them occupied by older women and a few men, while the center of the space seethed with children and women.

“Do all these people live here?” he asked with amazement.

Laurel scanned the room. “Many, not all. Some lived here once and now have work and homes elsewhere, but they’ve come back for the party. Some are volunteers who help out here regularly. Elizabeth Ware, that pretty blonde with Dr. Holt, is one.” She nodded toward the left. “Violet is over there.”

Kirkland followed his wife’s gaze to a dark, strikingly attractive girl who dressed with ladylike restraint rather than flaunting her exotic looks. She must have learned early that it was wise not to attract male attention. A pity she hadn’t been successful at that.

Someone called, “There they are!”

The music and chatter stopped dead and every head in the room swiveled toward them, including the pianist’s and the fiddler’s. Kirkland had confronted spies, traitors, and the Prince Regent in difficult moods, but he’d never felt so thoroughly examined. Or judged. There were children of all sizes, women of all ages, and a smattering of weathered-looking men. No Daniel, at least not yet.

Laurel’s hand tightened on his arm. Raising her voice, she said, “Good evening, my friends. Allow me to introduce my husband, James Kirkland.”

Kirkland offered his best smile. “It’s a great pleasure to meet the friends who have become my wife’s extended family.”

As the crowd gave a kind of exhalation of relief and started to move again, a pleasantly authoritative woman approached. “Mr. Kirkland, welcome to Zion House. I’m Anne Wilson, matron of this establishment.”

He bowed deeply. “And one of Laurel’s closest friends. We discussed the possibility of your visiting us at our home in London. I do hope you’ll consider it. You would be very welcome.”

Her eyes sparkled, and he thought he’d made an ally. “I hope that will happen,” she said. “Let me give you a tour while Laurel is busy exchanging hugs with everyone.”

He glanced at his wife and saw that an older woman with ravaged features and peaceful eyes was embracing Laurel. Leaving her to her farewells, he followed Anne Wilson out of the ballroom. When they were in the quieter foyer, Anne said, “You don’t actually have to do the tour, but I thought you might like to step away for a bit.”

“Plus, you get an opportunity to evaluate whether I’m good enough for Laurel,” he said with amusement. “The answer is that I’m not.”

“It’s not a matter of being good enough,” Anne said thoughtfully. “More a matter of how well you suit. You’re not what I would have expected in her husband.”

“Which is why we separated,” he said with regret. “But we are older and wiser now. At least, that’s the hope. And I would like the tour. Zion House is very important to my wife, and I wish to know more about it.”

She nodded approvingly. “You’re wise to do so. If you asked her to choose between you and her work here—well, you might not like the results.”

He suspected that she was giving him oblique advice. “I’ll bear that in mind. How many people live here?”

“Usually between thirty and fifty, though in really cold weather, sometimes more. We don’t like turning anyone away.”

He whistled softly. “The house is large, but even so, how do you manage?”

“As best we can. The goal is keep everyone safe, and help them develop the skills to support themselves and their children as well.” She led him down a short passage. “We have a nursery for the small children and an infirmary run by our own residents.”

“Laurel said that you’re the person who developed the garden?”

“Yes, people enjoy working there, and it’s good to provide some of our own food.” She led the way up a narrow service stairway. “The floors above are mostly sleeping quarters, though some rooms are used for lessons during the day.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“Everything!” She chuckled. “Reading and writing for those who were never taught. Needlework, cooking, cleaning, laundry. Sometimes music and drawing. Almost everyone has a skill they can teach, and everyone is better for learning more. Laurel set up all these programs. She’s a born teacher, though she spends most of her time managing the infirmary and Zion House.”

“Will they collapse without her?” he asked.

“I hope not,” Anne said seriously. “Laurel has trained others in the various skills needed, but she is the heart and soul of this place. She can’t really be replaced. I believe we’ll manage, but it won’t be easy to adjust to her absence.”

Kirkland wished the matron thought there would be no problems. They might need Laurel, but so did he. “She’ll be returning soon,” he said. “At least that’s the plan.”

Anne frowned. “I wish I was sure Laurel would really be back in a month.”

Kirkland wished he could be sure that she wouldn’t.