Love's Tangle (13 page)

“That is why I have come.”

“You are well, though, I take it.” He had risen from the chair but remained by his desk.

“Perfectly well, but if I am to stay longer at the Hall, I need employment.”

His eyebrows rose and she hoped he wouldn’t be tempted to tell her the position of dairymaid was now filled. But he said nothing and she went on, “I had thought of needlework but it appears you have all the seamstresses and embroiderers you could possibly need. But the library—I think it a room that would benefit from attention.”

“You would know, of course,” he said lightly, “having already plundered its depths.”

She flushed slightly but continued to push her point. “You would not mind if I began to catalogue the library contents?”

“You will first have to equip yourself with a cache of feather dusters.”

She relaxed. It looked as though the duke did not intend to over-rule her. “Mrs. Lucas has promised me as many as I need.”

“You will need suitable clothes too. I hope you don’t mean to wear the gowns that arrived this week.”

“How?...” she began to ask. “It was you that sent them?”

The customary saturnine expression flitted across his face. “Who else?”

She felt unbearably flustered, thinking of the silk stockings and the lace nightgowns. “I didn’t know,” she stammered. “I thought one of the female members of the household. They fitted so perfectly.”

His smile this time was genuine. “Exactly!”

She blushed bright red and then remembered her manners. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Should we not drop the title? Call me Gabriel—it is my name.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” she repeated. “It was most kind in you.”

He had enjoyed putting her out of countenance but he had also gone out of his way to make her feel at home in a world which was new and strange to her. Instinctively she moved forward, meaning to clasp his hand in gratitude, at the same time as he began walking towards her. But when she was within a few feet of him, she came to an abrupt halt. It was as if there was a force field between them that neither could cross. His eyes rested on her—unwavering, penetrating, as though he could not wrench his gaze away. For what seemed an age he stood without moving and simply looked. She felt her skin gather heat until her whole body was aflame. A pain deep within dissolved her stomach to water; her legs, too, gradually lost all strength. And still he continued to look and she to bear his scrutiny, caught in a spell they could not break.

She forced herself to speak, to take control of the situation. “I should leave you in peace. I will go to see Mrs. Lucas.”

Her voice seemed to jerk him from the dream in which he walked. “Ask her for anything you wish.” Then as an afterthought, “And change that hideous dress!”

She managed a brief smile before hurriedly escaping from the room.

****

When she had gone, Gabriel remained motionless. His strategy wasn’t working. He had ridden more miles than he cared to remember this last week and stayed in hostelries that had no right to the name, all to ensure he saw as little as possible of Miss Milford. He’d hoped that by staying away he would weaken the pull she exerted. But the first time he’d come face to face with her in—what was it, seven days, eight days?—he’d been unable to keep his eyes from her. She wore her dowdy mouse costume but it hardly mattered. She was far too attractive and he was far too tempted.

She wasn’t classically beautiful but her face entranced him, the cloud of dark hair framing the pale, pale skin and those misty green eyes, eyes that looked directly at him, deep into his soul, as though they would plunder his every secret. He liked her too—he liked her spirit and determination, liked that she wouldn’t be beaten. But liking and lust were a dangerous combination and he had no idea how to deal with it. He could not spend another week in fruitless wandering and the prospect of traveling to Brighton no longer enticed him: the same people, the same houses, the same social round. It was unbearably tedious but his erstwhile companions were awaiting his arrival and he supposed he must go. Just not yet. For the moment he would rather take his chance at Allingham, despite the dangers of living so close. At least she had found herself an occupation which would keep her busy and at a distance. He must do the same.

****

Some days later when he passed the library, she was at work. If he had known she intended such an early start, he would have chosen a different route that morning. But she was already seated on the floor, several piles of books and papers at her elbow. Her skirts were spread around her and her hair tied back in loops across her ears. She looked demurely business-like but when she heard his step and looked up, her generous lips widened into a smile and her eyes danced with fun.

“Have you any idea, Gabriel, how many books you possess on pig keeping?”

Good manners prevented him from walking on and instead he hovered in the doorway. “No, tell me.”

“So far, it is twenty-three and I’m still counting. You do keep pigs at Allingham?”

“The home farm produces some excellent bacon so I imagine we do but I’m not personally into pig husbandry.”

“One of your ancestors evidently was.”

“One of yours too,” he reminded her.

It seemed a good idea to stress their family connection but the mention of her changed station appeared to make her ill at ease. She smoothed her skirts and then fidgeted with a few strands of hair that had come loose.

To cover her discomfort, he said in a rousing tone. “How long do you intend to immure yourself in this dark and dingy place?”

She sat back on her knees. “It’s not at all dingy and I like the shadows. They’re restful.”

“I have to break it to you that they’re not shadows but cobwebs. Look.” And he brushed one away which had been dangling dangerously close to her face. “I have an army of servants yet I also have cobwebs. But at least no spider.”

She jumped to her feet. “Urgh. Is it on my face?”

“No,” he laughed, “though you do have a very large smudge just here.” And he rubbed at her cheek with one finger. Her face was soft to his touch and her skin like the finest porcelain. He wanted to run his finger down her cheek into the small white hollow at the base of her neck. That would be the craziest thing yet. It was all very well to dally with high born ladies while their husbands drank and gambled the hours away, for they knew the stakes. They were natural courtesans. This girl, though, was as innocent as the month of May.

She flopped down on the floor once more, secure in the knowledge cobwebs and their accompanying spiders had been banished.

“I found these old maps, do look,” she invited him. “I couldn’t be sure but they appear to be of the Caribbean.” She patted the cushion beside her. “What do you think?”

He had little option but to take the place she’d indicated. “Yes, they’re maps of the Caribbean. And this is one of the islands. Jamaica?”

“Why would you have a map of Jamaica in your library?”

“The Claremonts had a plantation there.”

Her forehead wrinkled in surprise. “And do they still?”

“No, it was sold when my parents died on the island.”

She looked crestfallen but reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “I am so sorry, Gabriel, I knew they died young but I had no idea it happened so far away.”

“How could you? But don’t distress yourself, it was long ago. I was no more than four years old.”

“Then you didn’t travel with them?”

“Jonathan and I were left behind at Allingham. Jamaica was far too unhealthy a place for young children, you understand.”

“But your mother and father? Why did they make such a dangerous voyage?”

“My father was supposed to go alone. There had been a good deal of unrest among the slaves and the overseers demanded someone with authority come out from England to settle the disputes before they flared into outright rebellion.”

“And your father volunteered?”

Her words produced a scornful expression and when he spoke his tone was scathing. “I doubt there was much voluntary about it. My father had to make amends for his unwise marriage. I told you he eloped, didn’t I? So it fell to him rather than to his older brother to brave the oceans. The heir had to be preserved.”

“And your mother? Surely it was not a place for a lady?”

“It was not a place for either of them. They caught dengue fever and died within a sennight of each other. She refused to let her husband go alone. But that’s love for you.”

There was a sourness in his voice that made her unsure how best to respond. Eventually she said, “That is a very sad story. You were only a small boy at the time, but I hope you have some memory of them still.”

He said nothing. There were memories but he did not want to bring them to life and he steered the conversation back. “You should not bury yourself in this mausoleum all day.”

“I don’t. I walk every morning and most afternoons. But what of you?”

“What of me?”

“You should not bury yourself either. You seem always to be at the bailiff’s office these days.”

He pulled a wry face. “I’ve been trying to get to grips with estate management but Joffey isn’t the best mentor.”

“The fact you are trying says much.”

“Is it possible I’ve earned a special commendation? If so, it must be the first time in my life.”

“Not as a boy? Was your tutor not encouraging?”

“My tutor, our tutor, was thoroughly indifferent. But he could hardly be blamed—he had little say in our upbringing. Charles Claremont ruled all.”

“That sounds forbidding but were you
never
happy at Allingham?” she asked shyly.

“There were some lighter moments. The estate made a splendid playground with plenty of hideouts like the one I showed you. When Jonty and I managed to escape the iron hand of Uncle Charles, we roamed at will.”

“It seems he was a very strict guardian.”

“He was a bitter and tyrannical man—a despot in fact.”

The words were stark and she looked appalled. He tried to sugar the pill. “There was very little to like about my uncle but living with Aunt Louisa would make any man surly, particularly if he’d been forced—as now seems likely—to abandon the woman he loved.”

“He showed you little affection?”

“None whatsoever. And Aunt Louisa, if anything, was colder. We were nuisances to them, burdens they had been left with by my parents’ death. And they made us feel that burden every minute of every day. To be fair, being an unwilling guardian to two spirited boys is a test of anyone’s temper.”

“You were very naughty, I imagine.”

“We were guilty of mischief but only what every boy worth his salt gets up to. I remember we stole one of his guns once which sent him into a paroxysm. Luckily it wasn’t loaded. But we did get to stage a military parade up and down the drive for at least an hour before he caught us.”

“And then you became real soldiers.” A dark shadow crossed his face. “Tell me about life in the army,” she said hurriedly.

He began to drum his hands on the carpet. “Strangely enough, it was wonderful. Terrifying for much of the time, but wholly exhilarating. I would not have missed the Peninsular campaign for the world. The privations only served to make me realize I was alive.”

She looked wistful. “Men may face danger and hardship but in some ways they are more fortunate. A woman could never experience one half of what you have known.”

“Not always fortunate. There are some things a woman escapes and a man cannot—the bonds of inheritance, for instance. I was forced to leave the army, forced to sell out after Charles decided to break his neck.”

She stared at him. “That sounds as though you think your uncle’s action was deliberate.”

“It’s not unlikely. He died two months after the Battle of Vitoria. That was where Jonathan fell.”

He was seared by the old recurring pain but for some reason he wanted to keep talking. “My brother was always his favorite—far more biddable, far less difficult than me. Charles never had children of his own and Jonathan became his project.”

“It’s strange he had no children.”

“Ironic. That hit me the other day. Aunt Louisa must have been barren and the one child he had, he refused to acknowledge.”

“But I was a girl, so not much use as an heir.”

“Neither was Jonty in the end. That was Charles’ final disappointment in life, I guess.”

“Perhaps he lost more than an heir,” she suggested tentatively. “The strict discipline he imposed on your brother could have masked a genuine warmth.”

“Hardly. It was as though Jonty was a cadet and Uncle Charles his commander.”

“And you?”

“I was considered worthless.”

“But you became a soldier,” she protested, her voice shocked. “That is hardly worthless. And now you are a great landowner with hundreds of people depending on you. If your uncle were here now, he would be made to eat his words.”

Without thinking, he moved closer. “You have a fearlessness about you that I admire greatly, Elinor.”

An awkward silence fell between them and her voice was unusually bright when she spoke again. “These old maps are fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured.

“You’re not looking!”

“Indeed I am.” He was unable to resist gazing at her. Her eyes this morning were of the palest green and her fine black brows a splendid frame. He saw her cheeks fire red and dropped his glance immediately. But he continued to sit beside her as she leafed through a sheaf of old engravings she had found.

“The land your family owned must have been extensive.” She was pointing to a detailed drawing of the plantation. “Look at the size and number of the fields and see how many cabins have been built for the slaves.”

She picked up another of the engravings and waved it in the air. It was the image of a black woman dressed in a long flowered skirt and a matching bandana. “She does not seem too unhappy …I wonder …oh but…” And she held up the next sheet of paper for them both to see. It was a sketch of an overseer, his hair matted, his face scowling against the sun, hands large and rough and holding a whip.

“His body is contorted with anger.” She shivered slightly though the library was already warm from the morning sun. “I would not wish to be under the control of such a one.”