More Than a Mistress (10 page)

He ought to be ashamed.

When they reached the wooden landing at the top, Charlie rapped his knuckles on the peeling green paint on the door on the narrow landing.

‘Come,’ a deep voice said.

Charlie ushered Merry inside. The room overlooked the mill floor on one side and the courtyard on the other. The elderly man behind the desk with red cheeks, a nose covered in broken veins and a full beard sprinkled with grey covering most of his lower face, hauled his bulk to his feet. ‘By gum, Miss Draycott. I weren’t expecting you! Not so soon after the meeting.’

If ever again, Charlie thought, searching the other man’s face for signs of guilt or disappointment. He looked genuine pleased to see them.

‘Come in, lass. What can I do for you? My word, young lady, don’t know when I’ve seen you looking more gradely.’

Bliss had that effect. She glowed with it. Charlie felt more than a little pride, though he kept his face completely expressionless as the mill owner turned to him with curiosity in his gaze. ‘I don’t think we’ve had t’pleasure, sir.’

‘Tonbridge,’ Charlie said. He put out a hand.

The older man’s eyes widened. ‘Mountford’s heir, if I’m not mistaken.’ Curiosity deepened in the muddy brown eyes.

‘Miss Draycott has done me the honour of accepting my offer,’ he said. Not a complete lie. The offer was merely not the one this man would expect.

He hoped. He was none too sure what the townspeople thought of Merry Draycott. He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of her himself.

‘By gum, lass,’ Broadoaks said, grinning. ‘Your grandfather would be in alt. My heartiest congratulations.’ He took Merry’s hand in his big rough one and patted it. Charlie had the urge to snatch it away, but held still. Finally the elderly merchant stuck out his hand to Charlie. ‘By thunder. A Mountford. Congratulations.’

Beneath the older man’s assessing gaze, Charlie felt a bit like a prize Arabian stallion. It wasn’t the first time he’d been accorded that kind of inspection, but usually it was the mothers who looked at him that way.

He managed a grim smile and shook the meaty paw. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Ah, you are a Mountford, all reet. By gum, a chip off the same block as your father.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ll wager Chepstow is crowing from the rooftops about this.’

A cold weight settled in Charlie’s gut at the sound of the familiar name. He glanced at Merry.

She winced and shook her head.

Charlie’s bad feeling travelled up to his chest. ‘Chepstow?’

‘The earl. From over York way,’ Broadoaks said, oblivious to the chill sweeping the room. ‘The Purtefoy family are her ma’s family. Not pleased with the marriage they weren’t. Always was a thorn in your grandpa’s side, lass, the way they treated your poor ma. But you showed them.’

‘You are related to the Earl of Chepstow?’ Charlie asked, hearing the growl in his voice, the building anger, but didn’t care to hide it. The earl was a crony of his father’s. A man with political clout of his own. And Lady Allison’s father.

‘He’s my uncle,’ Merry said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Guilty.

Charlie’s anger rose from his chest to the skin at the back of his neck. Had she played him for some sort of dupe? The hart in one quadrant on the shield on her gatepost came from Chepstow’s coat of arms, he realised. The rest of it, some sort of puffery. Hell. Why hadn’t he recogised it?

Broadoaks’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘Something wrong, my lord?’

Charlie stared at him. Wrong? It couldn’t be worse.

Merry shot him a pleading look. ‘We can talk about this later, Tonbridge. We came to ask Mr Broadoaks a question.’

Charlie gave the old fellow a smile that said he was about to impart a secret. ‘If you’d keep the betrothal between us for now, we’d be grateful. The settlements are not yet final.’

‘Aye, certainly, my lord. Business comes first.’ He winked at Merry. ‘Make sure you drive a hard bargain, young lady. Do your grandpa proud.’

Merry blushed, as well she might, the sly little baggage.

Charlie took a deep breath, reining in his temper, tamping down the suspicion he’d been gulled from the first moment they met. If it wasn’t for the fact that there was no way she could have known he’d be travelling along that stretch of road two nights ago, he might have thought she’d planned the accident herself.

She couldn’t have known.

While some of the glow seemed to have gone out of Broadoaks’s smile, he waved expansive hands. ‘Even so, this news calls for a celebration. A glass of wine? Some brandy?’

Merry smiled. ‘Not this early in the day, Mr Broadoaks.’

Making the decisions again. Ruling the roost. Indicating he was under her thumb. Charlie gritted his teeth. ‘Perhaps another time. Our business is pressing.’ Not nearly as pressing as the words he had for Merry after this meeting. ‘Let me explain.’

Merry looked startled, no doubt surprised he had taken charge of the conversation.

The old man’s eyes sharpened. ‘Aye. Sit ye down, both of you. Tell me what service Benjamin Broadoaks has in his power.’

Charlie gave Merry a warning glance. ‘The matter of a home for women in need.’

Broadoaks’s face turned the colour of puce. His gaze swivelled to Merry. ‘Now then, lass. The matter was put to rest the day before yesterday.’

‘I think not,’ Charlie said. ‘You know as well as I, Miss Draycott has no intention of letting the matter die. The real question is how did you and the other mill owners plan to stop her if setting light to the house didn’t work?’

Broadoaks recoiled. His chair creaked in protest. He stared at Merry. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’

Merry bit her lip. ‘Someone put those men up to it.’ She looked at Charlie. ‘And now—’

‘Someone tampered with Miss Draycott’s carriage on her way back from her meeting with you and the other mill owners. She was lucky she wasn’t killed.’

Broadoaks lunged forwards, his beard stiff with indignation. ‘Now wait a minute, your lordship. I won’t say I like the idea of a flock of whores setting up shop in the middle of town as bold as brass, but it ain’t a matter to kill someone over. Nor did I have owt to do with t’fire. Were some of the lads from the Muddy Duck got fired up about t’women taking their work.’

‘They are not whores,’ Merry said. ‘Not any more. How will they ever get free of that life unless someone gives them a chance?’

‘Hmmph,’ Benjamin Broadoaks replied. ”Tis same old argument. We don’t want them here.’

‘Not quite the same,’ Charlie said, before Merry could speak again.

Broadoaks eyed him warily. ‘Now, young fellow, surely you see the right of this. Miss Draycott here has a soft heart, but we are men of the world. We know—’

‘The Durn estate will pay for the rebuilding of the house. The asylum will be named for the duchess. I will act as her agent in this matter and Miss Draycott will head up the Board of Directors.’

Merry’s look of gratitude was like a knife to the gut, because it was a bloody lie. He wanted to throttle her. He flashed her a charming smile. ‘That is all you want, isn’t it, my dear?’

From the way her face stiffened, he was pretty sure she heard the sarcasm in his voice.

Broadoaks didn’t seem to notice. He sank back in his chair with the look of a man about to be hung. ‘That puts the cat in with the pigeons.’

‘You have a problem with the plan, Mr Broadoaks?’ he asked quietly.

The old gentleman fought through his beard to tug at his shirt collar. ‘No, my lord. The wives won’t be best pleased, I’ll admit to that, but they’ll come round once they know a Mountford’s behind it.’

His father would know nothing of the matter. Or at least he wouldn’t have known, if Merry wasn’t related to the Purtefoys. Now Charlie wasn’t quite so sure if he could bring this off without the betrothal becoming common knowledge. He’d been well and truly caught. Just as Robert had. An ironic smile formed on his lips. ‘Good.’

‘How is Mrs Broadoaks?’ Merry asked a little breathlessly. Fearing his wrath now she’d been found out, no doubt. ‘Well, I hope?’

Broadoaks’s eyes twinkled a little. ‘My missus doesn’t change, Miss Draycott, but she is well, thank you for asking.’

Merry grinned.

Charlie glared at her and then at Broadoaks. ‘I still want to know who is behind the threat to Miss Draycott’s life.’

The old man closed his eyes briefly. ‘I know nowt about it. Nor do any of the other owners, I’d vouch my life on it. Aye, no good looking down your nose at me, my lord. Why would we be involved? We had her set to rights. No. You look elsewhere. I’ve not heard any gossip neither.’ He looked at Merry. ‘Only you know who might want thee feeding t’worms.’

Right now Charlie wanted to do a bit of worm feeding himself. ‘Who
would
know?’

‘Beyond me, my lord.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d try talking to the innkeeper at t’Muddy Duck. He might know what set them off.’

‘The Muddy Duck is in the Skepton Town Square,’ Merry said.

‘Not a place for a woman,’ Broadoaks said heavily. ‘You know, lass,’ Broadoaks went on, ‘if you’d put that house of yours on t’other side of town, people might not have been so fratched by the idea.’

Apparently, Merry didn’t care who she angered, as long as she got her own way. Damn her. ‘Do you have a suggestion, Mr Broadoaks?’

Merry gasped. Charlie shot her a warning glance.

She pressed her lips together. At least sometimes she showed a little sense, because he was in no mood to tolerate an argument.

The elderly gentleman pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his brow. ‘There is a house, a small one, over on west side of town. Regular folks live there. It would do for two or three women.’

‘To keep the numbers down,’ Merry said with a marshal light in her eyes.

‘Within reason, I’d say,’ Broadoaks said.

‘I—’

‘We will think about it, Mr Broadoaks,’ Charlie said. He smiled at Merry. ‘Won’t we, my dear? Advice is always appreciated.’

‘Well—’

‘We won’t take up more of your valuable time, Mr Broadoaks. I believe I have business at the Muddy Duck.’

Broadoaks rose to his feet. ‘Tell t’innkeeper I said for him to tell you all he knows.’

In those few words, the old man had admitted Charlie to the inner sanctum. The local gentlemen’s club. He knew it from the chagrin on Merry’s face. He shook hands with the fellow. ‘It has been a great pleasure, sir. I hope we meet again soon.’

‘Ah, and good luck to you, my lord.’ He darted a glance at Merry. ‘Needs a strong hand on the bridle, a woman like her do.’

So she might, but that hand wasn’t going to be Charlie’s. Finally he’d seen right through the scheming little wench and he felt more than a little foolish. Not to mention angry.

He ushered her out of the office and down the steps.

She turned to him. ‘I—’

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along, not hard enough that anyone would notice, but firmly enough so that she knew he meant business. ‘We will talk in the carriage.’

Several times in the past few days, Merry’s escort had looked less than pleased. Now he’d withdrawn into a cool remoteness that put the distance of miles between them.

The distance of a duke-to-be from a lesser mortal. She had no trouble recognising it, since she’d seen the same kind of look on her fellow students’ faces at school when she was intemperate or bold enough to express her opinions or join their conversations. The reason she’d sought solace with Jeremy.

She lifted her chin as she’d done in those long-ago days. ‘What bee’s bustling in tha’s bonnet then, lad?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, you don’t think I’m fooled by that rubbishy accent, do you?’

She stiffened. ‘There is nothing wrong with the way I speak.’

‘Isn’t there? Perhaps the names of Purtefoy and Chepstow might give you a hint as to why it doesn’t ring true.’ She shrugged.

Anger flared in his eyes. Anger she could deal with. Better that than indifference. ‘My mother’s family has nothing whatsoever to do with me.’

A muscle flickered in his jaw. His lip curled in derision. ‘I’m not green, Miss Draycott. Or wet behind the ears. Nor do I have my mother’s milk still on my lips, my dear. I know exactly what you are up to. And it won’t wash.’

Inside she shrank from the bitterness in his quiet voice; on the outside she kept her back straight and her expression disdainful. ‘Doing it rather brown, Charlie. You forced your way into my business uninvited, you know.’

‘You asked me to pretend to be your fiance.’ He said the words as if they tasted of poison.

‘For a few days,’ she said warily.

‘Let us hope Broadoaks is good to his word and keeps a still tongue in his head or Chepstow will be on my father’s doorstep tomorrow morning. And won’t that stir up an ant’s nest?’

What on earth was he raving about? ‘The Earl of Chepstow barely acknowledges my existence.’

‘Believe me, that will change if this betrothal comes to his ears. He’ll care enough to learn I have been living at your house. A house full of prostitutes, no less.’

‘They are not prostitutes.’

He raised a cynical brow. ‘I know when I am being propositioned.’

She gave him a slit-eyed look. Did he mean her?

‘I’m talking about Jane,’ he said.

‘I told you, I don’t think she is going to stay. In fact, I had already decided to talk to Caro about her leaving as soon as we get back.’

‘Stop avoiding the issue at hand.’ He leaned against the seat back, a hard smile thinning his lips. ‘Oh, Merry, I’ll admit you are good. Chepstow’s niece, for God’s sake. All that straightforward honest stuff really had me fooled. But I’m wise to you now. So let’s just deal with the business at hand and we can end this farce and go our separate ways.’

Chapter Eleven

I
t was if a hive of bees had stung her all over. The hot and itchy feeling was swiftly followed by a sweep of cold. She inhaled a few deep breaths through her nose and the cynical twist to his mouth became more pronounced. She wanted to hit him. Scratch his face. She curled her hands inside her muff and bit down on her tongue. The old hurt and misery boiled in her chest, the memory of things she’d never told Grandfather, knowing he would be cut to the quick. Not for himself, but for her.

A burning sensation scoured the backs of her eyes and bile rose in her throat. Damn him. She would not let him make her cry the same tears she had shed as a lonely schoolgirl in the gardener’s shed.

There, someone had cared to offer comfort. Here she was on her own.

Glad of his need to focus on his horses as they passed a cart, she forced a smile, even managed a couple of flirtatious bats with her eyelashes and turned in her seat. ‘Ah, I see your problem.’

He shot her a quick dark glance.

Her smiled broadened. ‘It is all right to seduce a woman of the lower classes, but a noble-born wench requires a different set of rules. Not because she is any better, but because her family has the power to do something about it.’

He stiffened. ‘You go too far, madam.’

‘Do I? Well, rest your mind easy, your lordship. I wouldn’t marry you, if you were the last single man on this earth. What would I want with some useless nobleman, only interested in horses and gambling and the cut of his coat?’ She glared at his exquisitely cut driving coat with its layer of capes and gold buttons, at the artfully placed whip points in the lapel, and did a bit of lip curling of her own. ‘All right for a bit of fun in bed, but about as much use as tits on a bull, as Grandfather would say.’

His jaw dropped. ‘Good God, woman. Your grandfather should have been shot for talking like that to a gently bred female.’

Smile fixed, she straightened in her seat. ‘Get it through your thick skull. I am not gently bred just because I am related to the Earl of Chepstow. Draycotts are common hard-working people. My grandfather watched sheep from the age of four until he was ten. My father worked in the mill all his life. If I had been a boy, I would have worked there, too.’ Instead of going to Mrs Driver’s Academy for the daughters of gentlefolk and finding out exactly how unacceptable she was to the upper classes of England.

‘Don’t act insulted,’ he said stiffly. ‘You know you should have told me.’

She pulled all the pieces of her that seemed to have scattered themselves in the air around her—the pride, the hurt, the anger—and settled them back where they belonged with one deep breath. She clenched her hands together inside her muff and willed herself to feel nothing.

‘I am not acting insulted,’ she said, her voice deadly calm. ‘Angry, yes, but since we are almost at the Muddy Duck, I suggest we make our enquiries and then return to Draycott House. You may continue your journey to Durn immediately.’

He frowned. ‘You will wait in the carriage. I will make enquiries.’

‘Certainly not. If someone is out to harm me, I want to know who it is.’

The curricle pulled under the arch and into the small courtyard. An ostler ran out to take the horses’ heads.

‘If we are to carry off this
betrothal
,’ he spat the word, ‘in the eyes of the world, you will remain in the carriage. Any inn laying claim to the sobriquet of the Muddy Duck is no fit place for a respectable woman.’

‘I thought we had already agreed I am not the slightest bit respectable,’ she said. Blast. That sounded bitter when she had intended it to be simply sarcasm.

Tonbridge frowned at her. ‘If you are my fiancee, then you are respectable. Do as I bid, Merry, or I promise I will go right back to Broadoaks, swear it was all a hum, a lie, so that you could get your own way, and leave you to face him and his friends.’

She gasped at his perfidy. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Would you care to test that assumption?’

She stared at the granite line of his jaw and into the dark of his eyes. No laughter. No yielding. They’d won the day with regard to the house because of him, because Broadoaks wouldn’t risk the enmity of one of the most powerful landowners in England. One word and Tonbridge would ruin it all. It was blackmail.

She would not be blackmailed.

Caro had been right to caution her about involving him in her problems. And now there was no going back without losing all the ground she’d gained on Caro’s behalf. She gritted her teeth. There were other ways to show him he wasn’t going to push her around. She awarded him a tight smile. ‘As you wish.’

‘Good.’ Charlie jumped down. ‘Turn them around,’ he called out to the ostler. ‘I won’t be more than a minute or two.’

Merry watched him disappear inside the inn in a swirl of black coat. A three-storey building built in Tudor times, the inn looked tired, its roofs sagging and covered in moss. The curricle lurched as the man manoeuvred the horses in the tight space.

A hollow feeling filled her chest. Hurt because he assumed the worst.

Drat him. Why would she, a Draycott, wish to marry him, just because he was heir to a dukedom? He was judging her by his own standards.

A pang of realisation turned her stomach over. Naturally it would make him look bad if the betrothal became public. If she cried off, people would wonder why a low-class woman hadn’t found him worthy. Was that why he’d been so angry? Or was it because people would believe he had actually asked for her hand?

Her. Common as muck, Merry Draycott.

The latter. Definitely the latter. The emptiness seemed to grow.

The carriage ceased moving and Merry watched the door through which he had entered. Would he find out who had damaged her carriage? Lord, she hoped so, then he would go and leave her in peace. She winced. The locals were unlikely to tell tales to a stranger. Perhaps Prentice would have been a better choice for this task. She’d speak to him the moment he arrived tomorrow with his report on the mill.

He couldn’t have done anything with Mr Broadoaks, though. Clearly only a duke or his blasted heir could persuade the wily old mill owner to go against the indomitable Maria Broadoaks.

Minutes had passed. Where was he?

She hated waiting. Hated not knowing what was going on. She grabbed the side of the carriage and jumped down. ‘Back in a moment,’ she said to the ostler.

The courtyard needed a good sweep. If it was her yard, she’d see it done, too. She glared at the ostler, who appeared not to notice, and picked her way around the dung. The door opened before she could put her hand on the latch.

A frowning Charlie took in her presence. ‘I told you to wait in the carriage.’

‘You’ve been gone half an hour.’

He grabbed her elbow. ‘That’s because it takes time to get questions answered.’

She didn’t like the grim note in his voice. ‘What did you find out?’

‘I’ll tell you once we are on the road, as I promised.’

She glared at him.

‘Someone ought to have taken a birch twig to you as a child,’ he muttered.

Her lip curled. ‘What makes you think they didn’t?’

His eyes widened. ‘Damn it, Merry.’

Now what did that mean?

Back in the curricle and heading back for Draycott House, Charlie couldn’t stop wondering who could possibly have beaten Merry. While she was utterly infuriating, and had put him in an impossible position with regard to her family, he really couldn’t bear the thought.

‘Well?’ she said.

The anger simmering beneath the surface of his skin would have to wait. The current problem required all his attention. He formulated what he had learned into some sort of order.

‘Don’t sweeten the medicine,’ she said.

He huffed out a breath. ‘The landlord said someone got the men stirred up the night of the fire. A small group of them in the corner were muttering about jobs being lost. Men who haven’t worked for a very long time. They blame it on the changes in the mills, the new machines. One moment it was the usual complaints and the next a mob ready for mischief.’

‘Did he recognise the ringleader?’

‘He said not.’

‘Did you believe him?’

Charlie made a wry face. ‘I offered him a pony to tell me who led the charge.’

She gasped. ‘Twenty-five pounds is a great deal of money,’ she said, then she shook her head. ‘But Yorkshiremen have their pride. And very stiff necks. I will ask Mr Prentice to talk to him when he comes in the morning.’

Damn. Couldn’t she give him any credit? ‘He won’t get any more information than I did. The man swore he didn’t know and looked me straight in the eye. I believed him.’

She pressed her lips together as if to stop herself from saying more. He didn’t like that. He preferred her open and honest.

His stomach fell away. He couldn’t seem to reconcile the woman he thought she was with the person who had emerged in that meeting. She hadn’t been the slightest bit open and honest with him. She’d hidden her noble connections, when most people would have trotted them out to impress. How could he not suspect her motives? And of all people, her uncle had to be Chepstow. The duke’s friend. And the father of Charlie’s intended betrothed. What a mess.

‘I don’t think there is any more to be done,’ she said. ‘Mr Broadoaks will see there is no more trouble and you can be on your way to Durn in the morning.’

‘Eager to be rid of me.’

‘As eager as you are to be gone.’

He damned well ought to be eager. ‘There is the little problem of our publically announced engagement.’

Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. ‘We agreed. You will cry off as soon as we sorted this out.’

‘And what will your relatives have to say about that?’

‘They have nothing to say. I am not answerable to them.’

But he was answerable to his father. And he’d gambled Robert’s future on a roll in the hay—something Robert would no doubt find humorous and ironic, if he were here to enjoy the joke. It wasn’t the slightest bit funny. ‘If your family learn of this we will be in the soup.’ Especially since he’d proposed to the wrong cousin.

‘I can stand the heat.’

Damn her, now she made him sound like a coward. He cursed under his breath. ‘I wish you’d told me you were related to an earl. I was blind-sided by Broadoaks back there. And we still don’t know who is responsible for the attacks on your person. Until we do, our betrothal must stand.’ And the longer it stood, the harder it would be to keep it a secret. As she must have known.

She flashed him a glance of dislike. ‘The mill owners have agreed to support the house so there is no reason to continue the pretence. No reason for you to stay.’

He could think of another reason. Not that it was very noble minded. He widened his legs, touching her thighs with his, a simple shift of position that could be interpreted as innocent. ‘Perhaps I can convince you otherwise later this evening?’

A low blow. But anger still rode him hard.

She edged away from him, but the narrowness of the seat kept her pinned against his side. ‘You, sir, are a blackguard and a scoundrel.’

‘So it seems.’ They passed beneath the old medieval gate and beyond the cobbled streets of the town. It was colder out here on the moors, the wind fresher. It would have been kinder to bring the closed carriage. And more fun.

The thought of being closed up in such a confined space made his blood run cold. He reached down and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. ‘Warm enough?’

‘Perfectly,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Thank you.’

Perhaps it was as well she disliked him. It would make it easier to resist her temptation, make it easier to depart once he discovered who had sawed through that axle. What if the bastard tried again? A woman alone, unprotected, would not stand a chance.

She ought to be married.

His gut twisted at the thought of Merry in another man’s arms, even though it was quite clear he was not her first encounter. Why did he give a damn about this aggravating, infuriating woman?

Was it her apparent honesty that had somehow pierced a hole in his wrought armour and continued to do so, even knowing the open gaze hid a devious streak? Or was it her odd blend of strength and vulnerability, which caught him in strangely soft places inside that others had never touched?

‘I’m not leaving until I find out who tried to kill you and bring them to justice and that is final.’

A gasp made him smile.

He looked down into her outraged expression, took in the parted lips, and the urge to protect her rose up stronger than ever.

The woman only had to look at him with those bright sapphire eyes and smile, and his blood ran hot. One thing was clear. He needed to get her out of his blood. And soon. He should have accepted her offer and made her his mistress. Used her desire to impose his will. His body tightened. It wasn’t too late.

‘The more our engagement becomes common knowledge, the more of an idiot you will look when it is called off,’ she said with the attitude of a magician who had conjured a rabbit from a hat.

Quick-witted Merry, fighting a rearguard action. She brought her guns to bear without hesitation. ‘I will stand the reckoning,’ he said.

Father wouldn’t like it, of course, but well…too bad. The heir to a dukedom would never be cast off the way Robert had. Not for the triviality of breaking off an engagement to a nobody. People might assume that the duke’s pockets were to let for a while, given Merry’s fortune, or assume he couldn’t hold his nose and bring the marriage off, which would be all about vilifying Merry, but since she didn’t move in London circles, either way the damage would be minimal.

‘I don’t need your help,’ she said.

‘I’m staying.’

‘Not at my house.’

He laughed at the snap in her voice. ‘Are you saying you will throw me out in the snow? Now that doesn’t sound like true Yorkshire hospitality.’

‘Impossible,’ she muttered. She hunched beneath the blanket, glowering at the road, clearly brooding on her next line of attack.

A crack sounded off to the right. A shot.