Date: 2018-04-30 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Suspense; Historical; Historical Romance
Description: Struggling to support her family after her husband's death, Caroline Harding attracts the attention of the ruthless Captain Francis Grafton who offers her a devil's bargain to pay back her debts to him. Outwitting her enigmatic employer and unwillingly gaining his approval significantly changes her life for the better, but can she win his loyalty and his heart when he appears to care for nothing but profit?

THE LORD OF LOST CAUSES

Kate Pearce

Table of Contents

Introduction

Note to Readers

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Excerpt-Educating Elizabeth

About Kate

Other Books by Kate

Copyright Page

Introduction

Struggling to support her family after her husband’s death, Caroline Harding attracts the attention of the ruthless Captain Francis Grafton who offers her a devil’s bargain to pay back her debts to him. Outwitting her enigmatic employer and unwillingly gaining his approval significantly changes her life for the better, but can she win his loyalty and his heart when he appears to care for nothing but profit?

Note to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have ever wondered what a mash up between Pride and Prejudice and North and South might look like, then Millcastle is the series for you. It straddles that uneasy time period between the end of the Regency and the beginning of the Industrial Revolution when two very different societies attempted to coexist.

I hope you enjoy reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you want to know when the next book comes out, please join my mailing list, or friend me on Facebook or Twitter.

Best

Kate

Chapter 1

Millcastle, England 1831

“If you will just wait a moment, Mr. Keswick, I’ll have the money for you directly.”

Billy Keswick blew his nose in his grimy handkerchief. “Can’t wait much longer, lass. I have rents to collect from fifty households before dinner, so you’d best be quick about it.”

Despite his warning, he took a seat at the table and planted his booted feet squarely on the scarred wooden surface. He was a rotund man with a reddish complexion and a straggly mustache stained with tobacco. He was also the man who inspired terror in the motley inhabitants of the dilapidated properties in the Three Coins area of Millcastle, where Caroline and her family had been reduced to living.

Caroline desperately searched the dresser for the earthenware jar that last night had contained the exact amount for the week’s rent. Under the all too appreciative leer of Mr. Keswick, she gathered her skirts, and clambered up on one of the rickety chairs to search the shelves more thoroughly. But there was no sign of the jar and, more tellingly, there no was no sign of her mother who was supposed to be home watching the stew. The meager fire was almost out and belched puffs of smoke into the draughty air that sidled under the warped front door.

Caroline took a deep breath and slowly descended from the chair before turning to face her unwelcome visitor. She forced herself to smile.

“I wonder if my mother thought to take the rent and bring it to you herself? She might have missed you on her way through the streets.”

Mr. Keswick spat on the bare, well-scrubbed floorboards and loudly cleared his throat. “I did see your mam, but she was heading down Gower Street toward the church.”

Caroline nodded as if this made perfect sense. “She’s probably trying to find you right now.” She picked up her thick woolen shawl. “Perhaps we should both go and see if we can intercept her.” She walked purposefully toward the door, and gasped when Mr. Keswick grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her into his lap.

“I’m not that stupid, my little pigeon. If your mam has the money, we all know what she’s going to do with it. The last thing she’ll want to do is talk to me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Keswick.” Heat rose in Caroline’s cheeks, and she refused to look at her captor.

“She’ll be playing cards with all the other old ladies, and with her bad luck, when she’s run through your rent money, she’ll be writing I.O.U.’s to everyone. Then you will be in a pickle.” He kissed her averted cheek, and she forced herself not to shudder. “You know it’s true, lass, and you know the solution. You find some time to be nice to me, and I’ll forget about the rent this week.”

He kissed her again, and the stale stench of ale, tobacco and lust rising from his heated skin made Caroline want to retch. Could she do it? Could she let him touch her if it meant her mother and sisters kept a roof over their heads for another week? She shoved at his chest and managed to scramble out of his lap.

“My sisters will be home at any moment.” She grabbed her shawl off the hook on the back of the door. “We’ll all go and find my mother, and I’ll bring the rent to the George and Dragon. That’s where you have your rooms, is it not?”

“Is it not?” Mr. Keswick mimicked her upper-class accent. “Aye it is.” He licked his lips as he stared at her bosom. “And, if you still can’t find the money, you can step upstairs with me without any chance of your sisters catching us and pay off your debt in my bed.”

Caroline managed a nod before she turned, slammed the door and ran down the steep hill away from the narrow-terraced house. Her boots slipped on the broken cobblestones, and she splashed through piles of filth and had to slow down before she fell. Her breath was coming in panicked gasps, and her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. She paused at the corner and scanned the intersection. A lone horse and cart filled with barrels of beer rumbled by her, and she waited until it passed before darting across the road.

On the opposite corner of the street, facing out onto the square sat the old George and Dragon coaching inn, which she would have to visit whether she found the money or not. Caroline shivered and gathered her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She would face that issue later. In the meantime, she had to find her two younger sisters and, more importantly, her mother. Was it possible that Marie had indeed taken the rent and gone to find Mr. Keswick? In her heart, Caroline knew it was a forlorn hope. Her mother had probably done exactly what Mr. Keswick had suggested and used the money to stake her card game with the town busybodies.

Caroline glanced up at the towering walls of the cotton mill that belched out black smoke all day and night. In about half an hour, the doors would be unlocked and the factory would disgorge its day shift, adding hundreds of bodies to the already crowded streets of Millcastle. She had to find her sisters and her mother before it became impossible to move.

“Caroline!”

She turned to see her youngest sister, Ivy, waving at her and waved back. She’d sent the girls out to the market earlier to find any end of the day bargains or damaged fruit and vegetables. Ivy had such a sweet face that she often persuaded the storeholders to give her something extra simply by smiling at them.

Some way behind Ivy, Caroline also spotted Ruby chatting earnestly to a familiar looking man. She bit down on her already chapped lip. She did not want her friend and neighbor, Jon Ford, to hear about her family’s current woes. He was far too keen to be of service to her as it was.

Caroline forced a smile as Jon tipped his hat to her.

“You’re out from the mill early, Mr. Ford.”

“Unfortunately not for long.” He bowed. “I would offer to escort you all home, but I have to be back at my post in the next five minutes, or I will be docked a day’s wages. “

Ruby made a huffing noise. “And yet you have been out on company business. It is so unfair.”

Jon met Caroline’s gaze over Ruby’s head. “It is indeed unfair.” His faint smile died. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Harding?”

“Everything is fine, Mr. Ford. Don’t let us keep you.” She winced at her dismissive tone but could do nothing to soften it in case he offered his help, and that would never do.

To her relief he took his dismissal in good part, and, with a last genial nod, walked up the hill toward the grand gated entrance of the Marsham Mill where he worked as a clerk.

“Why were you so rude to him, Caroline?” Ruby demanded. “Don’t tell me you have started to listen to mother saying he is too common to associate with us.”

“It’s not that.” Caroline said. “I needed to speak to you and Ivy alone.”

“What’s wrong?” Ivy whispered as she wrapped her arms around herself and edged closer to Caroline’s side, her pale triangular face lifted to Caroline’s, her blue eyes wide with fear.

“I can’t find the rent money.” Two pairs of horrified eyes met hers. “And mother has disappeared.”

“Again?” Ruby spun away, her hands clenched into fists. “She couldn’t have been so bloody stupid, could she? She knows…”

For once, Caroline couldn’t find it in herself to either correct her sister’s language or defend their mother. A cold fist of fear settled alongside the ever-present hunger low in her stomach. Her mother Marie had already used up all the money she’d been left as a widow and for her daughters’ dowries. They’d been forced to leave India and return to England because of unpaid debts, and had lost almost everything. Caroline had almost nothing from her former life left to sell to cover the lost coins, except her wedding ring--or herself.

“I need your help, girls. She cannot have been gone long.”

“Of course, we’ll help.” Ivy said as she took Ruby’s hand. “If we find her we’ll make sure she comes home with us directly.”

“Thank you, Ivy.” Caroline patted her sister ‘s shoulder and took the heavy wicker basket filled with vegetables out of her hands. “I know I can trust you to do your best.”

“And I’ll take care of Ivy, too.” Ruby declared, her eyes flashing with such righteous indignation that Caroline wondered if their mother would escape a very public scolding from her nineteen-year-old daughter.

“Ivy is quite capable of taking care of herself,” Caroline reminded her middle sister who tended to think she was in charge of everything and everybody. She received a small nod of gratitude from Ivy and watched while they ran back the way they had come to search for their mother in her regular haunts.

Caroline kept walking until she reached the small town square with its central statue of a former Anglo-Saxon Earl of Wesley astride his horse fighting the Danes. She avoided the dressmaker’s shop where she earned a pittance for piece work and headed diagonally across the square to where the small church of Saint Agatha’s leaned uncomfortably up against the new Millcastle Bank building. Behind the church was the vicarage; the windows already lit against the grime of the smoke blackened evening skies.

Caroline marched around the back of the house to the servant’s entrance. She knocked loudly on the kitchen door and went in. Her mother often played cards with the housekeeper and the governess. Sometimes, when she was bored, even the lady of the house joined in. The smell of roasting beef made Caroline’s mouth water. She imagined carving herself a slice of the succulent meat, and then another, and another…

“May I help you?”

Caroline swallowed and turned toward the dour-faced cook.

“Good afternoon. I apologize for bothering you, but is Mrs. Delisle still here?”

The cook used her wooden spoon to poke a tired-looking parlor maid who sat with her head pillowed in her arms at the kitchen table.

“Doris? Is that Mrs. Delisle still here?”

“I dunno.” Doris murmured. “She was a while ago.”

“Well go and see, you great lummox!” Caroline winced as the spoon cracked against Doris’s skull.

Doris got up, straightened her lace cap, and glared at Caroline. “Who’s wanting her anyways?”

Caroline smiled. “Could you tell her there is an emergency and that she needs to come home immediately?” If that pointed message didn’t work, she would go in and drag her mother out--by the hair if necessary.

“All right, then.” Doris sighed and headed for the kitchen door, her shoulders slumped, the bow at the back of her apron askew and coming undone.

The cook shook her head and made a tutting noise. She waved Caroline to a seat at the table and poured her a mug of strong tea. “She’ll have to go, that Doris. I can’t make anything of her. Do you know anyone who is looking for a live-in job in a decent Christian household?”

For a brief moment, Caroline considered offering her services, but she doubted the vicar’s wife would allow her to bring her widowed mother and two sisters to share her attic bedroom.

“I’ll certainly ask around for you.” Caroline answered, her gaze fixed on the door for any sign of her mother. She added sugar to the strong tea and sipped it as fast as she was able, wishing she could take some home to her sisters. “I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would love the opportunity to get out of the mill.”

The cook snorted. “Those girls are no good. They’re all too thin and stunted. Mistress likes the rosy-cheeked country girls best—not that they last long here either.”

There was the faint sound of voices in the hallway. Caroline gulped down the rest of her tea and stood up. “I think that might be Mrs. Delisle. Thank you for the tea.”

“You’re welcome, my dear. It can’t be fun working for a woman as poor as that. I bet she doesn’t even pay your wages regularly.”

Caroline stilled the protest that rose to her tongue. She obviously wasn’t considered a lady anymore. To the cook, she probably looked like any other working class woman scraping a living. The cook handed her a paper bag filled with scones, and Caroline thanked her. A year ago, such charity would have humiliated her. Now she accepted the day-old scones with gratitude before heading out into the shadowed hallway.

Her mother stood in front of the stained glass front door, her expression querulous as she interrogated poor Doris. Marie was petite, and just as smartly dressed as any of the women she had abandoned to their card games in the drawing room. But unlike those women, she had sewed every stitch of every garment she wore herself, reinventing old dresses and skirts into new and alluring costumes with an ease that Caroline had never acquired.

Marie looked over Doris’s shoulder, and her face froze as she saw Caroline who simply raised her eyebrows.

“Caroline! Is that you, dear?”

“Indeed it is.” Caroline swept forward and grabbing her mother’s elbow in a painful grip, towed her inexorably toward the exit. “You are needed at home.” She nodded at the parlor maid who had managed to open the front door. “Thank you, Doris.”

She refused to let go of her mother’s arm until they had marched all the way back to their rented rooms, and she shut the door behind them. There was no sign of her sisters, and she was glad of that. She heaved the basket onto the table, and waited until Marie sat down, her pretty face flushed with anger and exertion.

“Whatever is the matter, Caroline? You treated me abominably.” Marie patted her chest. “I am quite out of breath!”

Caroline held out her hand. “Give me the money, Mother.”

Marie gasped. “What? How dare you!”

Caroline continued to stare at her. “Give it to me.”

Under her gaze, her mother’s brief defiance crumpled. “Are you talking about the money I found in the jam jar? I thought you had left it for me for housekeeping.”

“Mother, don’t lie.” Caroline could barely keep the anger out of her voice. “We all know that you are incapable of managing the housekeeping budget. I need that money to pay the rent.”

Marie opened her reticule and handed Caroline a few coins. “There. I didn’t spend it all, and if you had let me be I might have doubled or even trebled it!”

Caroline counted the coins with trembling fingers. “Oh God. There isn’t enough. What am I supposed to do now?”

Marie shrugged. “You just said I was incapable of understanding our finances, and that is true.” Her voice took on a familiar whining tone. “I wasn’t brought up to think about money. How do you expect me to help you now?”

Caroline’s knees gave way, and she sank onto the chair opposite her mother and put her face in her hands. She tried to breathe deeply, to think of a way out of this appalling mess.

“I met a very nice man at the vicarage, Caroline. He was paying his respects to the Vicar and popped in to introduce himself to Mrs. Lambton who was playing cards with us.” Marie laughed, the sound so carefree that Caroline bit down hard on her lip. “He offered to stake me for the card game, so you should be glad I saved some of your coin.”

Caroline slowly raised her head her heart thumping with dread. “How much did he give you?”

Marie opened her blue eyes wide. “Only a few pounds, my dear. When he decided to play a few hands with us, he insisted we increase the stakes.” Her expression became virtuous. “Of course, I had to tell him I could not play because I did not have the money. That’s when he offered to stake me.”

“So you owe this gentlemen money as well?”

“I suppose I do.” Marie frowned. “Is something wrong, my dear. You look quite unwell.”

Caroline rose to her feet, her cold fingers clenched around the remaining coins. There was no point in remonstrating with her mother; the damage had already been done, and Marie would never understand. All that remained was for someone to pick up the pieces.

“I have to go and find Mr. Keswick. Please make sure that the girls have their supper and do their chores.”

Caroline went to the door and headed out into the rapidly darkening street. It was November, and the days were short and bitterly cold. A fine mist descended, and Caroline drew her shawl over her hair like the girls from the mill and trudged back into the center of Three Coins. As she drew closer, she stared resolutely at the lights of the George and Dragon and tried not to think of Mr. Keswick touching her, kissing her, forcing her… with a shudder she touched the remaining coins in her pocket. Perhaps she could persuade him to take the money she had and give him the rest after she pawned her wedding ring.

To her dismay, the George and Dragon seemed far more crowded than usual. It wasn’t even a Friday, which was when most people got paid, so she hadn’t been expecting the place to be full. It took her quite a while to push her way through to the bar where a thin blond woman was dispensing tankards of ale and spirits with a speed and accuracy that astounded Caroline.

She managed to catch the woman’s attention and shouted. “I’m looking for Mr. Keswick. Is he here?”

The barmaid cast her a curious look and pointed to a door at the back. “If he’s here, he’ll be inside with his highness.”

“Thank you,” Caroline yelled, but the woman had already turned away. She forced herself to go toward the thick arched oak door. She didn’t bother to knock. No one within would hear her in this racket. It took but a moment to lift the latch and whisk herself inside. Warmth, silence, and the alluring smell of brandy made her catch her breath and flatten herself against the door panels.

A man sat by the fire, his booted feet anchored on the fender. One hand grasped a glass of brandy the other turned over the pages of a large book filled with columns. Whoever he was, he definitely wasn’t Mr. Keswick. This man was dressed in the height of country fashion, his top boots gleaming, his coat a subtle tweed that perfectly accented his white shirt and black waistcoat.

“I beg your pardon, I was looking for Mr. Keswick.” Caroline stuttered.

The man looked up. His face was tanned, his black hair too long for convention, and his light hazel eyes were the coldest she had ever seen.

She fumbled behind her and managed to find the door handle. “I’ll just…”

He held up his hand. “Why do you want to see Billy Keswick?”

His voice was low and held the arrogant pitch of command Caroline associated with the upper-class military men from her childhood.

“I wanted to give him my rent money.”

The man leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She reckoned he was in his thirties, but it was hard to tell when his skin was so bronzed. She wondered if he had been in the military in India, and if he’d ever come across her father’s family.

“Keswick told you to meet him here?”

“I believe he lives here, sir.” Caroline frowned, “Do you know him, then?”

“I do. What I don’t understand is why he would invite you here.”

Caroline felt her cold cheeks heat. “I’m not sure if that is any of your concern, sir.”

“And if I make it my concern?”

“Why would you do that?”

He shrugged. “Because I’m damnably bored, and you look as if you are about to burst into tears if you don’t achieve whatever it is you came here to do.”

Caroline raised her chin. “I have no intention of crying. I will simply leave you in peace, find Mr. Keswick, and conclude my business with him alone.”

His smile lightened the coldness in his face if not his eyes. “I appreciate your spirit, my dear.” He got to his feet and Caroline tensed as she realized how tall he was. “Would you like to sit by the fire? You look a little chilled.”

She clenched the coins in her pocket until the cold metal bit into her fingers. “I fear I cannot stay. I have to find Mr. Keswick.”

He withdrew a gold watch from his pocket and consulted it. “And if I tell you that I am expecting Keswick to attend me here in five minutes, will you condescend to wait for him until then?”

Caroline stared longingly at the fire. “If you are certain I will not disturb you.”

He bowed. “Not at all. In fact, I suspect you will enliven my evening considerably.”

Caroline took the seat opposite, and he sat down and contemplated her over his brandy glass. “Does Keswick always require you to deliver your rent to his lodgings in person? Don’t you have a husband somewhere waiting for his dinner?”

There was no denying his insinuation this time. Caroline tried desperately to think of a crushing reply, but she was so tired that her tongue seemed to have twisted itself into a knot.

“I’m a widow and, no, I’ve never come here to see Mr. Keswick before.”

“So why the urgency today?”

Caroline sighed as the warmth of the fire swept over her. “Because I couldn’t find the rent when he called, and I promised to bring it to him later.”

“Ah.” The man sipped his brandy again. “Keswick obviously takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

“Mr. Keswick…” Caroline just stopped the rash words from spilling from her mouth and stared down at her work-roughened hands. “I believe Mr. Keswick enjoys his job, sir, if that is what you mean.”

“Your tone implies that he enjoys himself a little too much.”

Caroline shrugged. “I can hardly blame him for that. He is only the rent-collector, not the owner of the properties. I suspect his desire to collect every penny owed is to avoid angering his master.”

“What makes you say that?”

She looked up to find his amused gaze fixed on her. “Because Mr. Keswick is a bully, and only a bigger bully would be able to keep him so anxious to please.”

This time the man’s smile reached his eyes and made him look almost approachable. “Have you experienced Mr. Keswick’s bullying nature yourself? You do not seem the sort of woman who is easily cowed.”

“I am not, sir.” A flicker of hope coalesced in her chest. Was it possible that she could persuade this aristocrat to feel sorry enough for her, a woman of obvious class, who had fallen on hard times, that he would intercede with Mr. Keswick on her behalf? “But even I cannot survive without a roof over my head.”

“Keswick threatened to throw you out even though you have the rent?”

Caroline opened her eyes wide and tried to look wistful. “I fear I do not have quite enough money to pay him, sir, but he suggested…” she looked down in what she hoped he would interpret as maidenly confusion. “He suggested that, I, a poor widow, might make up the rent by sharing my favors with him.”

“He did what?”

The gentleman’s obvious fury gave Caroline even more hope. And, as if he’d been primed to arrive at exactly the right moment, Mr. Keswick came through the door and stared in surprise at Caroline.

The gentleman rose to his feet, his expression lethal.

“Keswick, what is this I hear about you letting tenants off rent if they’ll bed you?”

Mr. Keswick flushed a dark red and cast a hostile glance at Caroline who tried not to smile.

“I never said that, sir, I would never…” Mr. Keswick blustered and stuttered until the man cut him off with a decisive gesture.

“That is not acceptable to me in any circumstances. No one, no matter how pretty they are, gets away without paying their rent in full.”

Caroline’s smile froze, and she stared in horror at the dark-haired man as a horrible suspicion wormed its way into her head.

He turned to her and bowed. “Perhaps I should have introduced myself to you earlier, ma’am. I’m Captain Francis Grafton—your bully of a landlord.”

Chapter 2

Francis Grafton couldn’t help but admire how quickly the woman masked her shock at his deliberately provocative announcement. At first sight he’d taken her for the latest in a long line of Keswick’s sluts, but when she’d opened her mouth he’d realized that beneath her grimy exterior lurked the essence of a true lady. She was the kind of woman he was used to encountering in the drawing rooms and ballrooms of London rather than the back parlor of the George and Dragon in industrial Millcastle.

And he’d always liked the unusual.

“May I know your name, Mrs.…?”

She bobbed him a small curtsey, her teeth set into her lush lower lip. “I’m Mrs. Harding, Captain Grafton.” She held out some coins to him. “Perhaps I should pay you my rent directly.”

He admired both her steady voice, and the resolution in her grey eyes.

“With the same benefits?”

She blushed but refused to drop her gaze. “I haven’t offered anything to anyone yet, sir —except my coin.”

He held out his hand. She moved closer to drop the money into his palm and he inhaled the familiar tang of cheap soap and damp wool that was so common in Millcastle. He knew from harsh experience how difficult it was to keep clean in a house with no indoor plumbing. With one finger, he slowly counted the meager collection of coins and then raised his head.

“What exactly is Mrs. Harding’s rent, Keswick?”

“It’s three shillings a week, sir.”

Francis looked back at Mrs. Harding. “Then you are a shilling short.”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath that drew his attention to her shawl-swathed bosom. Idly, he wondered what lay beneath the well-patched clothing and thick woolen shawl. Her hair was a dull dark brown and braided tightly to her head. She reminded him of some kind of drab woodland bird bathing in the dust. He imagined she was in her twenties, and yet she was already a widow. Had she run away from her comfortable home and married a mill hand or a servant? Was that what had brought her so low?

“I intend to pay the rest of the money tomorrow.”

“When you’ve been to the pawn shop?”

Mrs. Harding looked surprised at his intimate knowledge of how things were managed in the slums of Millcastle. She obviously had no idea how deeply he was involved in every aspect of Three Coins—right up to his sinful well-laundered cravat.

She glanced down at her left hand, and he noticed the gleam of a gold ring on her finger.

“I will have the money tomorrow, sir.”

Something in her quiet declaration piqued his interest even further, and he contemplated her for a long moment. He hadn’t expected to find such a challenge in his own back yard. “And what if I had another arrangement in mind?”

This time she couldn’t conceal the flash of distaste in her eyes. He wanted to smile as she struggled to form a reply.

“I…”

Billy Keswick cleared his throat and stared beseechingly at his employer. Did the old fool think Francis would order Mrs. Harding to service him as originally agreed? In his opinion, Mrs. Harding was far too fine a piece to waste on his crude rent collector.

“Keswick, you may leave us. I’ll expect to see you at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to go over the books.“ Francis paused and watched the sweat gather on Mr. Keswick’s brow. “There are several discrepancies in the accounts I wish to discuss with you.”

“All right then, sir.” Keswick shot him an angry glance and headed for the door.

“And, Keswick? Please ask Nancy to send in my dinner, and to bring enough for two.”

He turned his attention back to Mrs. Harding who was watching him as intently as a mouse confronted by a hungry tomcat. “You will share my dinner, Mrs. Harding, won’t you?”

“I have to get back to my family, sir.”

“You have children?”

“No, but I have two sisters and a mother to take care of, and they need their dinner….”

As she turned toward the door, Francis held out a shilling between his finger and thumb. “I’ll forgo the remainder of the rent for this week if you’ll stay for dinner and answer my questions.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored, and you interest me.”

Her gaze went to the shilling, and she hesitated. “Just for dinner?”

He smiled into her wary eyes. “You value yourself so cheaply?”

A flash of anger enlivened her face. “Surely the shame should rest on the one who has to pay for things that should be given freely, and within the bonds of holy matrimony, rather than with the one being bought?”

“Let’s just start with dinner, shall we?” Francis tossed her the shilling, and she caught it reflexively. “Perhaps we can discuss our views on matrimony over the soup.”

There was a knock at the door, and Nancy entered carrying a heavy tray piled high with dishes. Behind her came Tom, the tavern boy, with a small folding card table and a trailing linen cloth.

Francis moved out of the way and directed Tom to set the table by the fire. When the tray was safely set on top of the table, Nancy gave a recital of the culinary delights that awaited them, casting many a curious glance at Mrs. Harding. Tom left and then returned again with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

Eventually all was settled to Francis’s satisfaction, and he beckoned Mrs. Harding to the table where Tom had also set two chairs.

“Are you hungry, Mrs. Harding? I must confess I am famished myself, having ridden up from London this morning.”

She took the seat he held out for her and stared at the food. He wondered how long it was since she’d sat down to a proper meal. He wanted to caution her not to eat too fast, but feared it would embarrass her further, and he didn’t want that. He wanted her to relax and enjoy the meal so that he could weigh her potential as a future mistress for when he had to return to Millcastle.

He poured wine into the two crystal glasses and placed one by her plate. The food might be inadequate, but at least he knew the wine would be good.

He held up his glass. “To your continued good health, Mrs. Harding.”

“Thank you, sir.” She picked up her own glass, and then stared at it as if she didn’t know what to do next.

Francis sipped his wine and she followed suit, her eyes widening as she swallowed. He liked a woman who could appreciate a fine wine. It usually indicated that her other appetites would be just as sharp.

“The wine is to your liking, ma’am?”

“It is exceptional, sir, although as I haven’t drunk anything stronger than tea and ale for the last two years. I could be mistaken.” She set the glass down on the table with a definite thump. “And I fear that will have to do. I’m not accustomed to strong spirits anymore.”

“You haven’t taken to drinking gin, then?”

She glared at him. “Not quite yet.”

“Excellent.” He smiled at her and indicated the food. “It’s not called Mother’s Ruin for nothing. Would you like me to serve you?”

She eyed the laden plates as if he was offering her poison and shook her head. “No thank you. I’d rather help myself.”

“Then please, be my guest.” He watched in some amusement as she took several small servings and put them carefully on her plate. She retained enough sense and good enough table manners not to attempt to stuff everything into her mouth at once. In his time of need, he hadn’t been so restrained and had ended up vomiting everything he’d eaten. He pushed that thought away and loaded his plate. He’d never be starving again. Of that he was certain.

Mrs. Harding ate slowly, savoring every mouthful with a rich appreciation that made him want to enjoy it with her and to feed her choice morsels from his plate. After a little while, she seemed to remember her manners and looked up at him.

“Are you planning on staying in Millcastle long, Captain Grafton?”

“I’m not sure. I have business interests in many parts of the country.”

“I have to admit that it is not a place I would choose to spend my days either.”

“Then why live here?” Francis asked as he topped up his wine glass.

“Because I have no choice.”

“A fine looking woman like you must have many choices.”

“To become a man’s mistress do you mean?”

He liked that about her, the way she reacted so directly to a challenge. Since he’d regained his fortune, he’d grown tired of women simpering over him. “Is that not a career that appeals to you?”

“It’s hardly a career, is it, Captain? However high they fly, most prostitutes end up dying on the streets with nothing.”

“Except the pox.”

She grimaced. “Exactly. I would rather earn my money in a less dangerous way.”

“That’s a pity.”

She glared at him. “You’d prefer to see me on the streets, Captain?”

“I’d prefer to see you stretched out naked in my bed, Mrs. Harding.”

“I hardly think you need to insult me.” She put her knife and fork down and went to rise. Francis reached across and caught her elbow.

“Sit down, Mrs. Harding. You agreed to share your dinner with me.” Under his fingers, her arm was stiff and unyielding. “You still owe me a shilling, remember?”

She sat back down and refused to look at him. “And what if I have finished my dinner? May I go then?”

“I believe in polite society it is customary to wait until all the diners have finished before the ladies withdraw, is it not?”

“You are hardly being polite, sir.”

He smiled. “No, I am not. But then, you are not the hostess of this particular gathering either, are you?”

She bit down on her lip and concentrated her attention on her plate. Francis allowed a few minutes to pass before he broached his next question.

“You still haven’t told me why you live in Millcastle.”

“It is my home.”

“You do not sound as if you hail from here.”

“My late husband’s family was from here. After his death I assumed…” she paused, “I hoped they would welcome me into their home.”

“And they did not?”

“They felt unwilling to extend that invitation to my mother and sisters.”

“And they threw you out?”

“Not quite, Captain. I chose to leave.”

“How very foolish of you.” She blushed but didn’t answer him. “What was your husband’s occupation?”

“He was in the navy.”

“And he died on duty?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard and took a hasty sip of her wine. “He drowned when the vessel he was on was wrecked on the rocks in Cornwall.”

“A tragedy.”

“Indeed.”

“One that left you all alone.”

“Apart from my family.”

“Your father is no longer alive either?” Francis asked.

“That is correct.”

“Was he also a navy man?”

She sighed as though she was answering an annoying child. “My father was in the army. When he was alive, we traveled with him. “

“Where did he serve?”

“Mainly in India.”

Francis finished his wine and poured himself another glass. “I have an intimate acquaintance with that continent, firstly in the army, and then in trade. What was your father’s name?”

She glanced up at him then; her gaze wary and he shrugged. “I’m just making conversation, Mrs. Harding. Surely, telling me your father’s surname won’t affect my opinion of you.”

“I suspect your opinion of me can hardly sink any lower, Captain, seeing as I am sitting here at your request for the princely sum of a shilling.”

He laughed at that, but she didn’t join in. His opinion of her rose again, and he found himself enjoying himself for the first time in a long while.

“My father’s name was Delisle.” Mrs. Harding said reluctantly.

Francis frowned. He’d heard that name recently, but in what context?

“A French name.”

“I believe the family came over with William the Conqueror, sir.”

“Unlike mine who were fighting for good King Harold.” He held her gaze. “Then you have been brought very low indeed, Mrs. Harding.”

She raised her chin. “Only financially, sir.”

“Now you sound like my mother.“ He grimaced. “I suspect she would behave like you, Mrs. Harding, being too full of pride to accept any help.”

“You are not offering to help me.”

“I’m offering you a place in my bed. Isn’t that better than what you have now?”

“I believe we have already discussed this, Captain. I prefer to earn my bread with my hands rather than on my back.”

Francis sat back and regarded her. “And exactly how do you do that? With all due respect, you hardly seem to be prospering.”

“My mother and I work for a local dressmaker.”

Francis frowned. “If your mother was the widow of a career soldier why didn’t she receive a pension after his death?”

“She did.” Mrs. Reynolds shifted in her seat. “Unfortunately, she found it impossible to live within her means, and decided to leave India and live with me and my husband when we settled in England.”

“Did they ask her to leave? I’ll wager they did if she was up to her ears in debt.” Francis chuckled. “How embarrassing. Did she run through everything?”

“That is none of your concern, is it, sir? After my late husband’s family refused to offer us a home, we had to find work.” Mrs. Reynolds explained somewhat stiffly. My mother is very skilled, and I have an aptitude for bookkeeping.”

“Your employer allows you to keep the books?”

“She employs an accountant, but I am the one who does most of the day-to-day work.”

Francis smiled. “Have you ever thought of becoming a rent collector, Mrs. Harding? Mr. Keswick’s job might fall vacant soon.”

“Because of his behavior toward me?”

“No, because of his inability to add up.” Her face fell, and he felt compelled to continue. “I can’t fault him for wanting to take advantage of you, Mrs. Harding, when I am intent on doing so myself.”

She held his gaze. “You appear to have finished eating, Captain, May I go now?”

He glanced down at her plate. We haven’t even started on dessert yet.”

“I’ve had quite enough, thank you.”

“How can I persuade you to extend your stay, Mrs. Harding? How about I send you home with the remains of our dinner?”

She glanced down at the food and visibly swallowed. “You really do think very poorly of me, sir, don’t you?”

“No I don’t. There’s no shame in being hungry. I’m just not above using every advantage I have.”

She raised her indignant gaze to his. “You have every advantage, sir, and you know it!”

“I beg to differ. You have something that I want. Surely that gives you all the power?”

“To sell you my body?”

He shrugged. “To enjoy a pleasant sexual liaison with a man who wants you in his bed. Or would you rather endure Mr. Keswick’s attentions?”

She shot to her feet. “Are you threatening me, Captain Grafton?”

He held her gaze. “You came here with the intent to lie with him, didn’t you, so why are you so angry when I offer you an alternative?”

“Because…” She hesitated. “Because I thought you were a gentleman.”

He laughed. “Well, that was your first mistake, Mrs. Harding. I’m a disgrace to my noble blood, and my name has probably been struck from the family Bible.” He picked up her wine glass and offered it to her. “Now sit down like a good girl and amuse me.”

She took the glass from him, and he gestured at her chair. “Thank you.”

With a contemptuous shake of her head, she raised the glass, and tossed the contents in his face. He spluttered and leapt to his feet intent on catching her before she escaped. By the time he reached her, she already had the door partially open, and the roar of the crowded bar filled his ears. With his superior height he was able to slam his hand against the wood and halt her progress.

She wrenched at the door handle, but he leaned his weight onto the wood. She went still and turned to face him, her expression so full of fear that he immediately wanted to reassure her, a quite unusual urge for a man of his appetites

“Let me go, sir.”

He touched her trembling mouth and traced the curve of her lip.

“I might be a scoundrel, Mrs. Harding, but I’ve never had to resort to rape to take my pleasure.”

“Then you will let me leave in peace, and no more need be said.”

He studied her fine features and suddenly things fell into place.

“Delisle…” He felt the tension sweep through her narrow frame. “I’ve just remembered where I heard that name before.” He smiled. “I believe I had the pleasure of meeting your mother this afternoon at the vicarage. She owes me three pounds.”

“Oh dear God,” Mrs. Harding whispered. “Of course. I should have known it was you all along.”

She seemed to slump before his eyes, as if he’d finally beaten her to the ground. The sight affected him far more than he would have expected. He guided her back to the fire and sat her down where she immediately wrapped her arms around herself.

“How is it that your mother plays cards with the ladies of the town when you told me she works for her living at the dressmakers?” Francis asked.

“She… has not accepted her change in circumstances.”

Her voice sounded dull now as if she’d lost all hope.

“Let me guess. She was the one spending the rent money.”

“Yes.”

Francis frowned. He didn’t like this. Where was the spirit she had shown him earlier?

Caroline became aware that he was scowling at her, and that she had to do something. “I do not have the money to repay her debt to you. Even if I pawn everything we own, I still would not have enough.” She swallowed hard. “So I suppose you have won, after all, Captain.”

“Won what?” He raised a damming eyebrow.

“Me.”

He stared at her, his gaze assessing. “You give in far too easily, Mrs. Harding.”

“What?”

He shrugged, still elegant despite the splashes of red wine spoiling his immaculate linen. “I expected so much more from you than this complete capitulation. Where is your pride? Why stop at throwing a glass of wine in my face? Why not attempt to brain me with the poker?”

For a moment, she just gaped at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“That we make this arrangement more interesting.”

“What arrangement?”

“The one I am about to propose to you.” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the wine on his face. “I’ll allow you to pay back your mother’s debt to me in exchange for you keeping an eye on my accounting books.”

Caroline found it difficult to breathe. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I need someone to oversee my accounts, and with this arrangement I will receive those services for free.”

“Not exactly, sir. You are still three pounds out of pocket.”

“If I take into account Mr. Keswick’s appalling grasp of mathematics, and the money he already loses me, I’m sure I’ll recoup my investment very quickly.” He held out his hand. “Do you agree to our bargain?”

“Wait,” Caroline said desperately. “For how long must I provide these services?”

“Until the debt is paid off.”

“And who decides when that will be?”

“I do. His smile was a provocative challenge. “Now will you accept my offer?”

“Will you include my rent payment in your accounting?” Caroline asked.

“That’s better. Yes. I’ll forgo your pitiful three shillings until the debt is paid off to my satisfaction.”

Impulsively, she reached across the table, and shook his proffered hand. He drew her to her feet and looked down at her.

Relief made her tongue reckless. “Then you do not really want to bed me after all, sir?”

“Oh, but I do, Mrs. Harding.”

“Then why…?”

He bent his head and kissed her and, the heady bouquet of the red wine surrounded her making her feel dizzy. He angled his mouth over hers seeking admittance and she let him in, too thankful to fight at that moment. His hand slid around her neck as he deepened the kiss, and she could do nothing but stand there, her eyes closed and her hands clenched into fists to stop herself from touching him.

When he finally raised his head, his eyes were narrowed and glinting with amusement.

“I’m giving you, what in our world is called, a sporting chance, Mrs. Harding. I’m hoping you’ll choose to come to my bed willingly in the end.”

She didn’t dare reply, and she guessed he knew it because he carried on speaking.

“But next time you come to me for help, I’ll expect you to pay your debts in full in whatever way I desire. Do you understand me?”

Caroline nodded and pressed the shilling into his hand, her fingers shaking. She could only pray to God that she never had occasion to cross him again because she had no doubt that he meant every word.

Chapter 3

“Thank you, Mr. Keswick. I’ll tell Captain Grafton that you were extremely helpful.”

Caroline closed the ledger and put her pen back in the inkwell. She was sitting at the desk in the back parlor of the George and Dragon with a warm fire at her back, and a strong pot of tea at her elbow.

“The monthly accounts are now up to date and balanced.”

“No thanks to thee,” Mr. Keswick growled. “Interfering old biddy.”

“I’m merely doing what our employer asked me to.”

“We all know what you’re doing, Mrs. Harding.” Mr. Keswick leaned his palms flat down on the table and thrust his face close to Caroline’s. “Warming his lordship’s bed.”

“That isn’t true. Firstly, as you well know, I live with my mother and sisters, and secondly, Captain Grafton hasn’t been in Millcastle for almost a month.”

A situation that pleased her enormously. She didn’t like how he made her feel but was grateful he’d given her the chance to recover from her mother’s mistakes. The strange evening she’d spent with him when he’d offered her the job, kissed her, enraged her, and still sent her home with the remains of his dinner refused to leave her mind.

“Won’t be long though, will it?” Mr. Keswick jeered. “The captain’s already warned everyone else off.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.” Tired of Mr. Keswick towering over her Caroline rose to her feet. “From what I understand of our employer, his tastes run to opera singers and married aristocratic women. I am far too poor and lowly to merit his attention.”

She hoped this was true—that his extraordinary interest in her would have dispelled when he appeared in Millcastle again. If it hadn’t… she would simply do her best to keep out of his way.

Mr. Keswick left slamming the door behind him. Caroline finished her tea and locked the accounts book in the desk. She had to assume that Captain Grafton would return soon to review her work. If she had proved her worth, she hoped he would relieve her of her duties, forgive her debt, or perhaps even pay her to continue.

An image of his cold eyes and infuriating smile flashed across her mind and she shivered. Since dealing with the bookwork at the tavern, she’d heard plenty of stories about how ‘the Captain’ as he was known, ran his businesses and none of them were pleasant. Despite being of obvious aristocratic blood, he was known as a hard man not averse to getting his hands dirty when necessary. He owned almost all the land around Three Coins.

Caroline took the teapot and cup back into the kitchen of the inn and washed them out in the sink.

“You off, then, dearie?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bridgewater. Thank you for the tea.” Caroline turned to smile at Nancy, the petite blond woman who ran the inn with her much larger and fiercer looking husband Ned. “I think everything is ready for Captain Grafton now.”

“I’m sure his lordship will be back to count his ill-gotten gains soon.” Nancy handed Caroline a basket. “Got some sausages and a few slices of lamb in there. Should make a nice dinner for you.”

“Thank you,” Caroline smiled. “My sister Ivy loves sausages.”

Nancy poked Caroline in the ribs. “Mind you eat some yourself. The Captain likes a bit of meat on his women.”

“I’m not his woman. I mean, he hasn’t…” Caroline stuttered to explain.

“But he will, love. Mark my words. I saw the way he looked at you.”

“But, why?” Caroline risked the question. “I have nothing to offer him, and I don’t want his attentions.”

Nancy cackled. “Which is probably why he likes you. He’s a cussed old git, a right contrary Mary as my mother would’ve said.” She lowered her voice. “And if he does get you into bed, you come to me if you want to know how to avoid giving him a bastard he won’t want.”

Caroline clutched the handle of the basket hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“A bit of sponge soaked in tansy oil slipped up high inside you, and you won’t quicken.”

“I—” Caroline stared helplessly at Nancy who sighed.

“You’re like a babe in the woods, aren’t you, dearie?” Nancy patted her arm. “Just remember, when you are in need, come and see Nancy, and I’ll set you to rights.”

“Thank you.” Caroline nodded and headed for the door. “Especially for the food.”

The landlady rolled her eyes. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about what else could fill your belly but get along with you now. It’s getting dark out there.”

Caroline escaped into the frigid air and drew her shawl over her head. It was bitterly cold, and the millworkers were streaming out of the gates heads bowed, clogs clattering on the cobblestones as they made their way home. Most of them lived in Three Coins, so Caroline only had to follow along.

“Mrs. Harding. Good evening!”

Caroline looked up to find Jon Ford in her path. He held out his hand for her basket.

“May I carry that for you?”

“Good evening, Mr. Ford.”

She relinquished the basket and fell into step beside him. He was a large man with a quiet smile who lived with his mother in one of the better dwellings toward the front of Three Coins. He’d taught himself to read and write and enjoyed nothing more than sitting down with Caroline and her family and discussing current affairs and literature. He said there were very few others who cared about such matters in Millcastle, and Caroline had to agree with him.

His interest in her was also obvious, and that made Caroline wary. Her sister Ruby adored Mr. Ford and insisted that if Caroline would just stop being a snob he would suit her perfectly. But it wasn’t that. Since her brief marriage, she was wary of all men and their deceitful ways. Her deceased husband had appeared perfectly amiable until she married to him, and then he’d insisted she obey his every command.

At least she knew Captain Francis Grafton was up to no good...

“How goes your new job, Mrs. Harding?”

“It’s hardly a job.” Ruby had already blabbed all the minimal details Caroline had shared with her sisters to their neighbor. “I’ve finished going through this month’s books, and everything is now in order.” Caroline sighed as Jon guided her across the cobbled street. “Mr. Keswick was stealing money hand over fist. I dread to think what Captain Grafton will do to him.”

“The Captain is a hard man.” Jon’s usual smile was absent. “I doubt Mr. Keswick will have a job for much longer—not that he deserves any sympathy, mind.”

“I have no sympathy for him.” Caroline shuddered as she remembered Mr. Keswick’s meaty paws fumbling with her bodice. “I must confess that I am worried he will take out his anger on me rather than on his employer.”

“He’s a weak man, but you might be right.”

Caroline glanced up at the big man as they turned into her street. He smelled like the mill—a mixture of oily machinery, sweat, and cotton. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” His smile was fleeting. “You forget that these hovels and the people who inhabit them are dangerous.”

“How could I forget that?” Caroline protested. “I live here.”

“But you weren’t born into this.” He stopped walking and stared down at her. “Although, I doubt you have to worry about Billy Keswick when Captain Grafton has made it clear that you are under his protection.”

Caroline raised her chin. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know, lass.” His brown gaze was steady and unavoidable. “He doesn’t do things out of the goodness of his heart. He’s put his mark on you.”

“Oh for goodness sake, Jon, don’t you start.” Caroline almost stamped her foot. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am.” He gently cupped her elbow. “You should know what’s being said about you.”

“And you should know it isn’t true!” She pulled out of his grasp. “I haven’t even seen the man since he offered me the job.”

“You don’t understand, do you? If he’s spread the word around that you aren’t to be interfered with, do you think he needs to be here to make sure his commands are obeyed?” Jon snorted. “He rules with fear and violence. No one will bother you.”

“Then what about you?” Caroline demanded. “Won’t you get into trouble for talking to me?”

“Probably.” His smile was sweet. “But I think you’re worth the risk.” He glanced down at the basket. “How about you take this home to your family before it gets cold? I’m sure they’ll be right glad to have something nice to eat.”

“Would you care to join us?” Caroline asked impulsively, aware that he was still her friend and was only trying to help. “There’s plenty to go around.”

“That’s very kind of you.” He hesitated, his gaze turning back toward the town square. “I’ll need to let my mother know where I am, but I’d be delighted to accept.”

He stopped one of the boys in the street and gave him a farthing to deliver the message to his mother. As one of the more respected figures who worked in the mill, he was always treated well by the locals. Caroline admired his efforts to teach the mill children to read and write and improve their working conditions. He was also involved with his church.

An admirable man. A man you could depend on.

Even before Caroline could take out her key, the door flew open to reveal Ruby who smiled at their guest.

“Oh good! Mr. Ford is here for tea.” She sniffed the air. “Is that sausages in there?”

“Yes indeed.” Caroline set the basket on the table, which had already been set for dinner and took off her shawl. “Where’s Mother?”

“She had to stay late at the shop,” Ivy spoke up for the first time as she pulled out the chair nearest to the meager fire and offered it to their guest. “There was a rush on an order for a ball gown, and she is the only one with the necessary skills to fix the problem.”

Caroline spoke quietly to Ivy as Ruby chattered away to Jon. “Are you quite certain she was at the shop?”

“Yes. I peeped into the showroom, and saw her there, on her knees embroidering something directly onto the hem of a dress.” Ivy sighed. “The lady being fitted was complaining about everything, and no one told her off. It seemed quite unfair seeing as she was the one who had demanded all the changes in the first place.”

Her mother Marie, also excelled at lace making, but that could not be hurried. There were rumors of machines that could make lace much faster. None had been installed in Millcastle—yet—but with the pace of progress, Caroline didn’t doubt they would arrive at some point. The world was changing, and she could see no reason to rejoice.

“After we’ve eaten, I’ll walk down to the shop, and see if she is still there,” Ivy offered.

“No, I’ll go,” Caroline smiled at her younger sister. “I need to speak to Madame Louise anyway.”

“She’s less French than we are,” Ruby caught the end of the conversation. “Her accent is definitely not real.”

“So Mother says, and she should know as she was born in Toulouse.” Caroline placed the covered dishes on the table alongside the bread and butter Ivy had already placed there. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. “Let us give thanks for this meal, and to Mrs. Bridgewater who provided most of it.”

“Amen.” Jon’s deep voice was added to theirs.

Caroline wondered if he’d noticed she hadn’t directly thanked God for his bounty. Her devotion to the church had suffered an irredeemable blow after the way her late husband’s family had treated her. Living in the poverty of Three Coins had only hardened her feelings. She’d learned her lessons well. If one could not care for oneself, there was little chance of being saved.

Caroline made sure to make up a plate for her mother, and then divided the food among the rest of them. It was the first time in a week they’d had meat to eat. Jon took one of the slices of lamb and put it back on her plate.

“Eat up, lass. I’m sure my mother will have kept me a bit of dinner despite me saying I won’t be home.”

Jon’s mother Martha was a formidable woman in her own right. She kept her house spotless and her son well turned out. Knowing how hard it was to even keep herself clean with limited water and a lack of soap, Caroline respected her immensely. Martha had no time for malingerers or those who would not help themselves and had initially been wary of Caroline and her family. Caroline still wasn’t sure if Martha really liked her or just grudgingly accepted her because her son insisted on it

She ate the lamb and one of the sausages as slowly as she could and enjoyed every bite. Ivy looked as if she was in heaven, and even Ruby was eating well.

“Caroline, Mr. Ford was just telling me that they need teachers at the chapel school every Sunday,” Ruby said. “May I go and help?”

“Teaching what?” Caroline asked.

Jon chuckled. “Nothing more dangerous than the alphabet and the Bible, Caroline, and maybe how to add up.”

“All very useful skills in a mill.” After her day staring at the intricate finances of Captain Grafton, Caroline was too tired to be polite.

“Skills that will help get them out of the mill,” Jon said gently. “When you can read and reckon, your opportunities widen immeasurably.”

“You’re right.” Caroline pressed a hand to her aching skull. “I’m sorry. Of course Ruby can help.”

“Do you have a headache, lass?” He reached over and touched her cheek. “You’re very warm. Perhaps I should go.”

“I’ll be fine. I do apologize for my lack of spirits. Please finish your dinner.” Caroline found a smile from somewhere as she pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’ll walk down to the town square and see if my mother has finished work. Some fresh air will do me good.”

“I don’ like you going out by yourself when it’s getting dark.” He looked up at her, the concern on his face evident.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Caroline pushed in her chair. “Mayhap you could stay here with the girls and keep them company while I’m gone?”

“If that is your wish.” He patted his stomach. “I’d better let this food settle before my mother hands me another plate the moment I step over the threshold.”

“If you would stay, I’d appreciate it,” Caroline said. “I shouldn’t be long.”

She let herself out into the now quiet street. Some of the houses were lit up, others were dark either because the occupants had already gone to sleep or they were too poor to afford even a tallow candle. Caroline turned her face against the brisk breeze barreling down the road and headed for the town square where Madame Louise’s shop occupied one of the prime positions on the corner.

The front of the shop was in darkness, but there were still lights at the back. Caroline let herself in at the rear and almost immediately collided with the bulk of Mr. Keswick. She had to grab hold of his arm to steady herself.

“Mr. Keswick, whatever are you doing here?” Caroline gasped as he grinned down at her.

“Collecting something for the boss.” He didn’t move out of her way. “Were you looking for me?”

“No, I work here, remember?” She pressed her back to the wall and tried to maneuver around him. “I just came to collect my wages and find my mother.”

His hand shot out and slammed her back against the wall.

“No need to pretend you get paid for real work when we all know how you earn your keep.” He shoved his face right into hers, and she almost gagged at the smell of rotting teeth and ale. “When he’s done with you—and you won’t last long, they never do—you’ll come crawling back to me on your knees, and I’ll take great pleasure in keeping you down there where you belong.”

“Let me go.” Caroline choked out the words.

“Oh, lass, I’ll let you be for now, but don’t forget I’ll be collecting what I owe from you one day.” He paused and took a step back. “Or mebbe, seeing as you’re getting a bit long in the tooth, I’ll settle for one of your sisters.”

Without conscious thought, Caroline brought her right hand up and slapped him hard across the face. Blood spurted from his lip, and his expression turned feral.

“You little bitch, I’ll—”

Too desperate to care anymore, Caroline lowered her head, and rammed him in the chest before running deeper into the shop, slamming and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the door, her heart thumping and her hand stinging from the impact on his cheekbone.

She could hear him cursing and thumping around, but he didn’t come after her. After a long while, she heard the backdoor slam shut, and then all went quiet. She’d somehow lost her shawl and basket in the scuffle, but at least she was whole and undamaged.

“Are you all right, Caroline?” Marie asked from the safety of her worktable where she was stitching at a piece of velvet.

“Mr. Keswick…” Caroline pressed her bruised fist to her chest. “He…” She ran out of both breath and words. Dear God, what had she done? If Captain Grafton went ahead and fired him from his position, Mr. Keswick would think she’d told their employer what had happened and he would blame her. Then, her life, and those of her sisters would be in danger.

Marie wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Keswick is a thoroughly unpleasant man. I suggest you steer clear of him.”

Caroline fought a hysterical desire to laugh. She was trapped, and no one would or could save her. How had it come to this? How had her life become so difficult?

“Did you bring me something to eat?”

Caroline shook her head.

“Is there anything to eat?” Marie’s lip trembled.

“Yes,” Caroline finally found her voice. “Mrs. Bridgewater gave me some off cuts of lamb and some sausages. I saved a plate for you.”

“Then I will come home.” Marie smoothed the velvet and cut the last thread. “This sleeve is finished, and only needs to be attached to the jacket. One of the girls can do that tonight.”

Caroline forced her legs to carry her over to the worktable. “That’s beautiful, Mother.”

“Merci.” Marie took off her spectacles and blew out the candle. “I hope that simpering Miss Hetherington appreciates it as much as you do.”

“I doubt it.” Caroline helped her mother into her coat. “She is a girl of very little taste or discretion.”

“She was talking about your Captain Grafton today,” Marie glanced up at Caroline as she unlocked the door. “She thinks he is quite dangerously thrilling.”

“He’s not mine, and he certainly is dangerous,” Caroline agreed. “But not quite in the romantical way she might imagine.”

“I am amazed that he is even received in polite society.” Marie waited as Caroline retrieved her dropped shawl and basket and then locked the door behind them. “He might be a gentleman by name, but his behavior is certainly suspect.”

“He’s a gentleman, mother. They are allowed to get away with anything if they are wealthy enough.”

She’d seen his books and knew that the revenues he accrued as a slum landlord were only a small part of his financial dealings. She was surprised to hear that he was being mentioned in what passed for polite society in Millcastle. Maybe, one of the mill masters hoped to catch him for one of his daughters. Captain Grafton claimed he carried an ancient name even though she was fairly certain he had besmirched the family reputation in some way.

“Nearly home,” Caroline tucked her mother’s hand in the crook of her arm and trudged up the hill toward their house. “Jon Ford shared our repast and stayed to keep the girls company.”

“I’ve changed my mind. You should marry him.” Marie was slightly out of breath as they halted in front of the door. “He at least would make sure we were well fed and properly housed.”

“You would live in his mother’s house? You wouldn’t like that at all.” Caroline unlocked the door and allowed her mother to go in ahead of her. “She’d have you working at the mill just to keep you busy and out of her way.”

Marie’s laughter warmed her soul, as did the sight of Jon reading something aloud to Ivy and Ruby by the fireside. He would make a good husband, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be married again and subject to a man’s will. She took off her shawl, waited until her mother washed her hands, and settled at the table before putting the plate in front of her.

It was good of Mrs. Bridgewater to give her the leftover food from the inn. She wasn’t sure how they would manage without it now. If Captain Grafton were willing to employ her permanently, she would ask for an increase in her wages, and not need to rely on the charity of others.

“Mrs. Sims asked me if I would like to act as her companion in the afternoons,” Ruby spoke up from her fireside seat. “She’s willing to pay me for my time.”

Caroline stifled her instinctive denial. If Ruby had been born in one of the hovels in Millcastle or even on an outlying farm she would already be working a ten or twelve-hour shift in the mill or in the fields. As it was, she ran errands for the dressmaker where Marie and Caroline were employed, watched out for Ivy, and reluctantly worked on the lessons Caroline prepared for them.

“Would you like to work for Mrs. Sims?” Caroline asked. The elderly lady was a widow who lived in a substantial house on the edge of town away from the smoke and dirt of the mill. Ruby had met her at the vicarage with Marie.

“Yes. She is very kind, and she lets me read the books in her library.” Ruby sat forward. “Will you come and speak to her with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.” Caroline smiled at her sister. “It sounds like an excellent opportunity for you.”

“I’ll leave you in peace.” Jon stood up. “Thank you for the dinner and lively conversation.”

Caroline offered him his hat and coat and walked him to the front door.

He lowered his voice. “I think you are very wise to consider Ruby’s request to work for Mrs. Sims. She is a good women and rather lonely in that big old house all by herself.”

“It still seems wrong somehow. When I was even younger than Ruby I was preparing to enter society with nothing but finding a husband on my mind.” Caroline sighed. “But look where that got me.”

“She’ll be all right. She’s a good strong intelligent girl.”

“Aye, that she is,” Caroline mimicked his accent, and he smiled.

“Nay, lass you haven’t got the right vowels for it.” He kissed her cheek, and then put on his hat. “I hear Captain Grafton is due back tonight, so I suspect you’ll be busy.”

Caroline was just about to answer him when there was a furious pounding on the door.

“Open up!”

Bewildered she looked at Jon who set her firmly behind him. “Stand back.”

He opened the door and was unceremoniously pushed to one side by Mr. Keswick who was followed in by another burly man.

“That’s her, officer. She’s the one.”

Caroline took another step backward. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“She stole it.” Mr. Keswick pointed his finger right at Caroline.

“Excuse me, Miss.” The second man brushed past them all and went into the kitchen. “Where’s your bag?”

Caroline pointed at her basket. “What is going on? What exactly are you looking for?”

The constable rummaged through her things throwing everything out onto the table and pounced on something white.

“Here it is.” He turned to Caroline holding up a handkerchief edged with intricate Honiton lace. “Stole this from your employer, eh? Didn’t have time to pawn it yet I see. Good thing Mr. Keswick had his suspicions of you.”

“I’ve never seen that handkerchief before in my life!” Caroline protested. “Mr. Keswick is lying!”

“Now wait a minute, Constable Jarvis,” Jon tried to intervene. “I know this family well. They are not the kind of people who steal.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ford, but an accusation has been made, and it’s my duty to investigate it.” He grabbed hold of Caroline’s upper arm. “Come on, you. We’ll speak to the magistrate in the morning.”

“You can’t—” Caroline was still protesting as he dragged her out into the street where half the neighborhood had turned out to enjoy the show. “I didn’t steal anything, please believe me.”

Behind her she could see Mr. Keswick grinning in triumph, and her sisters crying and calling her name.

“I’ll fetch help!” Jon shouted out to her.

They soon reached the corner of the street and all went quiet again. Caroline had no choice but to allow the constable to force her along at his chosen pace. It began to rain, and she had no cloak or bonnet to cover her head.

“Where are you taking me?” Caroline asked.

“Town gaol, miss.” His grip tightened as they approached the old stone building that housed the courthouse and cells. “You’ll be up in front of the judge in the morning.”

She tried to resist as he took her up the stairs, but it only served to annoy him. Her arm felt as if it was going to break in two as he shoved her through another door, and then through into a large cell where several other people were also being held. She fell down into the filthy straw, and immediately staggered to her feet.

No one even glanced at her. All of them were trapped in their own misery or too drunk to understand what was happening to them. Caroline found a corner and put her back to it before sinking down to the ground. It was hard to breathe, and she pressed her hand to her chest in a frantic effort to calm herself.

Tomorrow would bring her release. Her employer would vouch for her character, and she would explain to the judge about Mr. Keswick wishing her ill. She took another shuddering breath. What was the penalty for stealing a handkerchief? Transportation? She had a horrible feeling that she was about to find out.

“I’ve been doing exactly what you told me to, Captain” Nancy Bridgewater set a plate of lamb stew in front of Francis and a basket full of bread. “Although I don’t think she eats much of the food. She gives it to her mother and sisters.”

“She would.” Francis ripped off a hunk of bread and dipped it into the stew. “This is very good, Nancy. Very good indeed.”

“Thank you, Captain. Will you be requiring anything else tonight?”

“Just a bottle of brandy, please. I’m ready for my bed.” He yawned. “The weather was foul on the way up here.”

“It’s been raining all day.” Mrs. Bridgewater grimaced. “Whole town smells of bad drains and damp.”

“You make it sound so appealing.” Francis took another roll. “Is Keswick around?”

“I haven’t seen him this evening. Do you want me to send him in if I do?”

“No, the last thing I want is his rain soaked carcass steaming in front of my fire. I’ll see him tomorrow after I speak to Mrs. Harding.”

“She said she left the books locked up in the desk for you to look at, Captain.”

“Good for her.”

Nancy paused in the doorway. Francis had first met her when she was an ‘actress’ in London. She was one of the very few people he allowed to speak their mind to him.

“Mrs. Harding isn’t your usual kind of woman.”

“I agree.”

“She’s…” Mrs. Bridgewater sighed. “Too dainty for this place. I saw plenty like her in the whorehouses of London—ladies reduced to selling themselves to pay for food and rent. They never lasted long.”

“You’re wrong about her.” Francis remembered her dousing him in wine. He put down his fork. “Are you attempting to suggest I should direct my attention elsewhere?”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume to tell you what to do, Captain. It’s just that I’ve grown to like her, and—”

“You think I’ll ruin her.” Francis couldn’t quite believe that the hardheaded innkeepers wife had developed a soft spot for anyone, let alone Mrs. Harding. “In case you haven’t noticed, she has already fallen far below her natural status in society with no help from me. I can offer her more than that mean-spirited harridan at the dressmakers.”

“For as long as she continues to amuse you, and then what?” Mrs. Bridgewater opened the door. “I can see you have your mind set on her, Captain so I’ll not waste my breath. I told her to come to me if she wants to avoid breeding.”

“What an excellent suggestion, Nancy my love.” Francis smiled. “Her upbringing would probably not have offered her such useful knowledge. When I bed her, and I do intend to accomplish that fairly soon, I’ll make sure she takes advantage of your kind offer.”

Mrs. Bridgewater departed, perhaps slamming the door harder than necessary, and Francis turned back to his stew. He pictured Mrs. Harding laid out on his bed, her hair loose, and a smile of welcome on her haughty, supercilious face and almost choked himself laughing. She wouldn’t come to him easily, and perhaps that was part of her allure. He suspected she’d fight him every step of the way until he gave her such pleasure that she succumbed to the most intensely erotic experience of her sheltered life.

Except she wasn’t sheltered any more, was she? Francis frowned as he sipped his wine. He could talk to her employer, make sure she lost her job, and had to come to him. But where was the challenge in that?

There was a knock at the door. He bade the person enter, hoping it wasn’t Billy Keswick, and rather the divine Mrs. Harding ready to do battle with him again.

“Captain Grafton?”

Francis stared at the unknown man who now towered over him in his own inn, and instinctively put his hand on the knife in his pocket.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you sir, but—”

Francis interrupted him. “Perhaps we could start with your name.”

“I’m Jonathan Ford, Captain. I work at the mill.”

“So what in God’s name are you doing here?”

Mr. Ford set his jaw. “There has been a miscarriage of justice. I’ve tried to speak to the magistrate, but he won’t listen to the likes of me. I didn’t want to come here, but I suspect you are the only one with any influence in this matter.”

“What matter would that be?” Francis asked.

Mr. Ford met Francis’s gaze. “Billy Keswick accused Mrs. Harding of stealing from her employer.”

“What did she steal?”

A crease appeared between Mr. Ford’s brows. “What does it matter? She’s a lady. She wouldn’t steal a crust of bread from a dead man even if she was starving herself.”

“You know her well, then.” Francis leaned back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world even while his mind raced through several interesting possibilities.

“Aye. I’d make her my wife if I could.” Mr. Ford said decisively.

“But she has spurned your suit?”

“You should know.”

“I have never to my knowledge asked Mrs. Harding to marry me.” Francis raised his eyebrows. He had to admire the bluntness of the man. “Mrs. Harding is currently paying off her debt by managing my accounts.”

“Which is why I thought you might be interested to hear that she is currently incarcerated in the town gaol.” Mr. Ford’s mouth hardened. “It is hardly a place for a lady.”

“Even one who apparently stole from her employer?”

Dealing with the obviously furious Mr. Ford was rather like taunting a bull, but Francis had never feared being gored.

“What exactly do you expect me to do about this petty matter? Ride over to Grovedale House, and insist Sir Ian immediately comes to the courthouse?” Francis shrugged. “If Mrs. Harding is in gaol, she’ll be safe until morning when the court comes into session. Her innocence or guilt will be determined by the due process of the law.”

“Then you intend to do nothing.” Mr. Ford jammed his hat back on. “It seems your reputation is well earned, Captain Grafton. I’ll be on my way.”

Before Francis could attempt a reply, which was probably a good thing because he suspected Mr. Ford was on the verge of punching him in the face, his visitor turned and left. This time the door was definitely slammed.

Francis let out his breath in a whistle and considered his options. He’d never been in the Millcastle gaol, but he had sufficient knowledge of other prisons to know it could hardly be pleasant. He pictured Mrs. Harding there and found the image surprisingly disturbing. He’d airily dismissed Mr. Ford’s concerns as to her current safety but knew she could be robbed of everything, raped, and killed if someone in the prison thought she had enough value.

He refilled his wine glass and contemplated the fire for a long moment. Eventually, he rose to his feet, crossed over to the desk in the corner, and unlocked one of the drawers. The accounts book lay on the top just where it was supposed to be. He took it out and laid it on the blotter.

It was too dark to read Mrs. Harding’s neat script, so he lit another lantern and sat down at the desk, checking her calculations with a speed and accuracy he’d learned from necessity. After turning the page and reading through to her last entry he sat back and considered the notes she’d made at the side of the columns.

Keswick had been cheating him, which wasn’t a surprise in itself. Everyone attempted to line his or her own nest if they could. He’d done it himself when he’d been in need. The odd farthing here, a thruppence there… The amounts taken were negligible compared to his wealth, but having an employee thinking he was an easy mark was unforgiveable.

Francis closed the book and sighed before drawing out a clean piece of paper and a pen. A man had to have priorities in his life, and for once his business inclinations matched his personal ones. By the time he had blotted and sealed his note, Tom had arrived with his bottle of brandy.

“Here you are, Captain.”

“Thank you.”

Tom handed over the bottle. Francis declined the glass.

“Have one of the stable hands deliver this note immediately, and if there is a reply, bring it up to my bedchamber.”

“Yes. Captain.”

Francis locked the desk, blew out the lamp and made his way up the stairs to the best room in the inn. If his instincts were correct, and they very rarely let him down, tomorrow would be a very interesting day.

Chapter 4

“You, in the corner.”

Caroline awoke from a troubled sleep to discover one of the constables yelling at her from the doorway of the cell. She awkwardly rose to her feet, brushing away the odorous straw, and came toward the man, her shawl clutched tightly around her. She could just make out streaks of light through the grimy barred window on the wall opposite the door.

“Mrs. Harding?”

“Yes.”

The big man grabbed her elbow and pushed her out into the corridor before relocking the door. Caroline desperately needed to urinate but waited passively for him to turn back to her.

He gave her another shove. “Get along with you, then.”

“To where?” Caroline asked.

“Where ever it is you live, lass.”

“But what about the charges?”

“None to answer for according to my superior.” He grimaced. “You obviously have friends in high places.”

“I don’t,” Caroline still hesitated. “Perhaps my employer spoke up for me?”

“Perhaps she did.” He pointed to the exit. “Now are you leaving, or do you want me to arrest you for loitering?”

With an inarticulate sound, Caroline fled, and didn’t stop running until she had rounded a corner and the courthouse was out of sight. She leaned up against a wall, her breathing ragged aware that her damp clothing stank, and filth had soaked through to her stockings. A shudder ran through her as the church clock struck seven times and the mills opened their gates to admit their workers.

She had to get home. Her family would be frantic.

Aware that her strength was limited, she forced herself to move away from the wall and head across the square, past her employer’s shop, and down the alley where the George and Dragon was situated. Her steps slowed as she viewed the inn until she stood opposite it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harding.”

Caroline took an involuntary step back as Captain Grafton emerged leading his horse through the archway of the coaching inn. Even as she stared at him several horrible conclusions fell into place.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Caroline said hoarsely.

He sauntered across to her, his form blocking out the early morning sun, his face in shadow under the brim of his hat.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You had something to do with this.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to look him in the eye. “Did you conspire with Mr. Keswick to make me lose my employment so I would be forced to come to you?”

He went still, the faint smile on his face disappearing. “You think I would conspire with the likes of Billy Keswick?”

“You have a point. You probably didn’t need his help.”

She stiffened as his gaze passed down from her face to her soiled gown and filthy boots. He inclined his head a frosty inch.

“You appear to be in some distress, ma’am. Perhaps you should go home and attend to your needs before opening your mouth again and uttering nonsense.”

His tone was so biting that every word cut like a knife. But he did make some sense. If she weren’t careful, she would lose her composure completely and scream, wail, and scratch her nails down her face until it bled.

With a stiff nod, she turned away, and fixed her gaze on her destination.

“Mrs. Harding?”

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around.

“Present yourself at my address at six this evening, please. We can discuss your bookkeeping efforts and ongoing debts.”

Caroline walked on without replying and a moment later he clattered by mounted on his showy horse and disappeared from view. Tears sprang to her eyes. She ruthlessly held them back until she reached her own front door and banged hard on the faded paintwork.

Ruby opened the door with a shriek and dragged Caroline through the hallway and into their rooms.

“Caroline, we were so worried about you. Mama had to go to work, and Ivy went to see if Mr. Ford had found you, we—”

Caroline held up her hand.” Please, I need to sit down, I can’t—”

She collapsed onto the kitchen chair and rested her head in her shaking hands, only to realize that they were as filthy as the rest of her. She was trembling so much now that she thought she might shatter.

“Boil the kettle, Ruby. I have to wash.”

Many hours later after she had scrubbed every inch of her skin, and washed her long hair, Caroline waited impatiently for her mother to return from work. Ivy and Ruby had helped her get dinner ready and were fluttering around her like moths as if afraid she would be taken from them again.

Ruby had told her that Jon Ford had come back on the previous evening to tell them about his efforts to gain her freedom from gaol and his increasing frustration. Eventually, he’d sent a note saying he would be at the courthouse that morning and would do everything in his power to make sure she was set free.

Marie came in and took off her bonnet and pelisse, her face brightening when she saw Caroline.

“My darling girl!” She came over to embrace her daughter. “I knew when Madame Louise had no notion of a stolen handkerchief in her head this morning that there must have been some mistake. Because if she had known of it, neither of us would probably still be in her employ.”

“She didn’t mention me at all?” Caroline stepped back from her mother. It was typical of Marie not to dwell on the unpleasantness that her daughter might have experienced unless it directly related to herself.

“I told her you were unwell, and that you would complete your work at home under my guidance. That seemed to satisfy her.” Marie sat at the table. “She is rather short of talented and reliable staff and perhaps loathe to let us go. The local industrialists are demanding their daughters dress like ladies now, and her business has increased significantly.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Caroline poured them all some tea and shared out the cottage pie Ruby had made under her supervision. “I was fairly certain that one way or another I would be dismissed today. Did Mr. Keswick come into the shop?”

“No, thank goodness.” Marie gave a delicate shudder. “What an uncouth individual. Captain Grafton did pop in and was most civil to me.”

Caroline paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, her already shaken appetite deserting her. “Captain Grafton?”

Ruby smiled. “Maybe he was buying silk stockings for his lady love.”

“He came to speak to Madame Louise.” Marie pouted. “I was unable to overhear their conversation as she shut the door into her office.”

Caroline scraped the rest of her pie back into the dish and rose to her feet. “I have to go and speak to Captain Grafton about the accounts.”

Marie looked up at her. “But you haven’t finished your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Caroline looked at Ruby. “Will you make sure everything is clean and tidy before you go to bed? I might be quite late back.”

She pinned up her still damp hair, found her second best, and now only, shawl and squeezed her feet into Ruby’s boots. Her own were so disgusting that she would be forced to go to the rag and bone man’s yard and see if she could purchase or barter something for another secondhand pair.

It didn’t take long to reach the George and Dragon. Caroline went through the back entrance into the kitchen where the landlord’s wife held sway.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bridgewater,” Caroline curtsied. “I’ve come to see Captain Grafton about the accounts. Is he in his office?”

Mrs. Bridgewater came over to Caroline, her gaze assessing. “He’s upstairs in his bedchamber. He told me to tell you to go on up there when you arrived.”

Caroline briefly closed her eyes, and Mrs. Bridgewater grabbed her elbow in a remarkably hard grip.

“If you go up there, he’ll have you. You know that.”

“I don’t see that I have a choice.” Caroline whispered.

“There are always choices.” Mrs. Bridgewater sighed, took something out of her apron and pressed it into Caroline’s hand. “But your options have perhaps run out. He is a ruthless pursuer of his own pleasures. This will at least stop you getting pregnant. The sponge is soaked in tansy oil and tied with a long string. The Captain will know what to do with it.”

Caroline wordlessly accepted the small glass jar and put it in her pocket.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bridgewater. You have been very kind to me.”

“He won’t hurt, or beat, or bugger you, I can tell you that much, love. He’s still a gentleman at heart.”

Caroline stifled a hysterical desire to laugh. A gentleman? Captain Grafton would never live up to that name in her eyes. The very fact that she was going upstairs to his bedchamber gave lie to his pretensions.

“Thank you.”

Following the landlady’s directions, Caroline went up the backstairs, her skirts clenched in her hand, and knocked on the door at the end of the corridor.

“Come in.”

For a moment she considered turning and running, but what would that gain her? Debts had to be paid. It didn’t matter why they had been acquired they had to be honored. But at this precise moment, if she had seen her mother or Mr. Keswick her rage might have got the better of her.

She opened the latch and went inside to the surprisingly spacious room. Captain Grafton sat in front of a roaring fire, the accounts book resting on his knee, a quill pen and ink pot by his side.

He didn’t look up at her approach. “Ah. Mrs. Harding. Come and sit down. Would you like a glass of brandy?”

Caroline sat where he directed her to sit and accepted the glass of brandy. She felt curiously lightheaded as if she was watching a morality play entitled The Fallen Woman. How had she sunk to such depths…

“You look pale. Drink your brandy.”

She brought the glass to her lips and almost spilled half the contents in one unsteady swallow. It took all her concentration to place the glass back down without dropping it.

“Your accounting skills are excellent.” He glanced down at the book. “In truth you are the most honest bookkeeper I have ever encountered.”

“Thank you,”

Caroline took another gulp of the brandy and realized her glass was now empty. Her companion reached across and poured her another large measure.

“I’ll have to teach you how to skim a little off for yourself.”

“I don’t want your money.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Surely the boot is on the other foot. You are the one who owes me a considerable sum.”

She shot to her feet, unwrapped her shawl and started on the buttons of her blouse.

“What exactly are you doing?” Captain Grafton inquired.

Caroline glared across at him. “I am undressing. As you have pointed out, the debt I owe you is now beyond my ability to ever pay you back.”

“I’m not sure I understand you.”

“How much did it cost you to prevent me facing the magistrate this morning?” she demanded.

“Oh, that.” He smiled. “Who told you?”

“No one had to tell me. I worked it out for myself after I saw you.” She was down to her skirt now, and ready to step out of it. “You warned me this would happen, and I am fairly certain that a man such as yourself always follows through on his threats.”

“But you didn’t come to me asking for help,” he countered,

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I am still obligated to you.”

He leaned back in his chair, one arm on the back and considered her making her hands curl into fists. “I still don’t understand your haste.”

“Because I can’t stand the suspense anymore! We both know that you intend to bed me, so why can’t we just get it over with?”

Caroline marched over to the side of his large four-poster bed, sat down and took off her boots and stockings. If he would only make haste, she could be back home in less than an hour. She found the glass jar Mrs. Bridgewater had given her and set it on the bedside table.

Captain Grafton rose leisurely from his chair and strolled over toward the bed to inspect the stoppered bottle.

“What exactly is that?”

“Mrs. Bridgewater said you would know,” Caroline stood again and shrugged out of her blouse and petticoat leaving her in her corset and shift.

“Stop.”

She made the mistake of looking at him and instantly regretted it. He took another step closer and then paused again.

“Let down your hair.”

His voice deepened, and there was an element of compulsion in his tone that made her feel like prey.

“Pretty.”

She gathered the pins in her hand and placed them carefully on the table. She couldn’t afford to replace them.

He moved closer, his brandy glass still in his hand, and circled her as if he were contemplating buying a horse. She stiffened as he tugged on the laces of her corset and began to unlace it. He tossed the garment over the nearest chair. She took the opportunity to scramble onto the bed, and lay down on her back, closing her eyes.

The side of the bed creaked as he sat down beside her, one hand curved around her waist, his thumb stroking the jut of her hipbone. She stiffened as he leaned over her, the scent of brandy and heat wafting over her skin. It seemed like an eternity passed before he finally spoke.

“No. I don’t think so.”

Caroline opened her eyes and glared at him. “Don’t toy with me! Blow out the candles and get on with it. Then at least I can go home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your saintly husband made you have conjugal relations in the dark?”

“Of course he did! How else—?” Caroline shut her mouth at his evident amusement.

“Let me guess. You kept your nightgown on and lay there in dutiful obedience while Mr. Harding climbed on top of you, pumped away for a few seconds, and then fell asleep snoring until dawn.”

Caroline bit down hard on her lip as he caressed her chin. “I suppose you think I should behave like a whore.”

“Better that than a pathetic martyr.” His grip tightened. “To be quite honest, Mrs. Harding. At this precise moment I’d rather fuck a bowl of rice pudding.”

“How…dare you speak to me like that? You—” Rage poured through Caroline’s veins, and she surged upward and shoved him hard in the chest. The culmination of the worst day of her life required her to rip him limb from limb, to bite him, savage him, hurt him as much as he had already hurt her.

“That’s better.” He fought off her clawed fingers and puny attempts to punch and kick him. “One day I’ll teach you how to fight properly, but not tonight.”

He closed his fist in her hair and wrapped it around his palm drawing her head back so that she had no choice but to be kissed. Instead she tried to bite him, and he laughed before taking possession of her mouth with an intensity that didn’t require her cooperation only her presence.

She was backed up against the headboard and his hands were all over her. He used his strength to arrange her against the hard unmerciful planes of his body. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and he knelt heavily between her thighs, the hot throbbing presence of his maleness rubbing against her most intimate parts.

Francis reached out a leisurely hand, uncorked the brown bottle Nancy had given to Mrs. Harding, and extracted the soaked sponge and string.

“Hold still.”

She flattened herself against the headboard and averted her gaze as he probed her snug entrance and maneuvered the oil soaked sponge high up inside her. God, she was tight… his cock stirred kicking against the restraints of his buckskin breeches. He rubbed his oiled thumb against her bud, and she fought to escape his touch. His opinion of the mercifully deceased Mr. Harding fell even further. How could a man marry a woman as magnificent as this one, and have offered her no opportunity to enjoy being fucked?

“Stop fighting me,” he nuzzled her throat, and then bit down gently on her ear lobe making her shudder. “Fulfill your debt to me and let me… fill you.”

He unbuttoned the fall of his breeches and drew his shirt out of the way of his already wet cock before settling on his knees between her spread thighs. She was breathing fast, her bosom rising and falling not with passion, but with what he assumed was fear.

It gave him pause.

“Look at me.”

Her head remained averted and her eyes closed. He gently wrapped a hand around her throat.

“Back to being a martyr again, Mrs. Harding?”

Her eyes flew open, and with one swift forward motion he eased the head of his cock inside her tight channel making her gasp. He eased back and then forward again until she took all of him, and then stayed deep experiencing the sensation of her flesh yielding to the hard insistence of his need.

He’d like to make her come, but he doubted she would be amenable to the lesson at this point. That could wait. This moment—this pulsing, heated surge of lust was about possession. He couldn’t deny it, wouldn’t glorify his inglorious, selfish desire with any kindness.

He leaned in and kissed her mouth, used his tongue to mimic the rhythm of his cock as he settled deeper, anchoring her to him with one arm locked around her jutting hips. She needed to eat more. He’d make sure that she did.

She gasped as he pushed her shift down and sucked her nipple into his mouth making her arch her back, offering him even more. These moments of lust gave him the ability to forget and to wallow in the pure physical vibrations of being alive.

Tension gathered at the base of his spine and his balls as the need to come crowded out all the other glorious sensations. He plunged deep once more, and then pulled out allowing his come to soak her shift as he shuddered with pleasure against her shoulder.

Easing back he rolled away from her and set himself to rights. He’d wash when she had gone. Despite the grumbling in his kitchens about hauling up hot water, he never went to bed without being clean.

She lay where he had left her, eyes closed, her long hair flowing over her bosom before drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around herself. Francis went still and regarded her curiously. Would she scream and cry and wail her displeasure to the rooftops?

A knock at the door had her scurrying to hide under the covers. He shut the curtains that surrounded the bed and went to open the door.

Nancy confronted him, her expression worried. “I have water for your bath. Do you want it now?”

“What an excellent idea.” Francis held open the door and allowed the two serving men to set the bath in front of the fire. The four maidservants paraded in and out with buckets of hot water until the bath was half full.

Nancy handed him a fresh cake of soap and a new towel. He dared her to speak, but for once she said nothing, her gaze taking in the disorder of the room and the randomly discarded women’s clothing.

Francis shut the door behind his staff and picked up Mrs. Harding’s clothing before returning to the bed. He opened the thick curtains to find her sitting up, the bedclothes clutched to her chest.

He bowed. “Would you like to take a bath?”

She gaped at him as if he’d offered her a trip to the moon.

“A… bath?”

“Yes.”

She pushed a long strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers obviously trembling. “I haven’t had that luxury for years.”

“Then enjoy it.” He pointed at the chair closest to the fire. “Your clothing is there, and the door is locked.”

She regarded him warily before easing out of the bed. The front of her shift was damp with his leavings and stuck to her skin, which made him want to rip it off her and start again. Her nipples were dark and after his attentions still tight against the thin cotton.

Francis turned away before he allowed his baser self to take what he wanted and be damned to the consequences. He was not an animal. He refused to be that man again. When she had gone, he could lie in bed, imagine her there, and take himself in hand.

Caroline forced herself not to scuttle like a frightened rabbit past the faintly smiling source of her utter ruin. No, that wasn’t fair. Some of this she had brought on herself. Some women would’ve abandoned their families and taken their place in their deceased husband’s family. Some women obviously had no conscience or were rightly too fearful to lose what little social position they had.

She considered the steam rising off the bath as Captain Grafton settled at his desk, his back to her. If she had to make the choice again, knowing how desperate her life and that of her siblings would become, would she do it? A shameful part of her whispered yes, so who was she to judge others?

After a wary glance over her shoulder, she allowed her shift to fall to the floor and stepped quickly into the bath. She couldn’t repress a moan of sheer enjoyment as the water closed around her.

“I wish you’d made that sound when I bedded you, Mrs. Harding.”

Caroline started at his mocking amused voice, but he didn’t move out of his chair or show her his face. Was he being kind? Did he actually have a respectful bone in his body?

Knowing the size of his business interests, she concluded that he was probably too busy to care about a woman he’d just succeeded in taking to bed. His interest had moved onto different things—bigger conquests and other important matters. She could only hope that having satisfied his lusts he would now forget her entirely. She had hardly proved satisfactory.

She reached for the soap and washcloth and hurriedly scrubbed at her skin before wrapping herself in one of the drying clothes warming in front of the fire. Trying to move as quietly as possible she gathered her clothing and stepped into her drawers and petticoat beneath the obscuring towel. She had no desire to put her shift on again, which left her with a dilemma.

Captain Grafton got up from his chair and disappeared out of the room leaving Caroline a scant moment to decided how to proceed. The thought of sneaking down the backstairs with her corset and shift in her hand was far less worrying than still being here when the Captain came back,

She struggled into her dress and hastily pinned up her now damp hair. Her shawl hung over the back of one of the chairs, and she used it to wrap up her underclothes. With one last frantic look around the room she put on her darned stockings and her sister’s best boots and ran to the door.

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Harding?”

She clutched a hand to her chest as her nemesis appeared.

“I—”

He didn’t move out of her way, his expression quizzical. “We are not finished here, ma’am. There are matters to discuss,”

“Can we… discuss them at another time?” Caroline asked. It was difficult to look him in the eye when half an hour earlier he’d been…

“If you insist.” He inclined his head a civil inch. “I will meet you at your place of employment tomorrow at five.”

“At the dressmakers?”

“You do still work there, don’t you?”

“Yes,” She fixed her gaze on his cravat. “I will be there.”

“Then we will speak further.”

She tried to move past him, and he caught her elbow in a gentle but inflexible grip.

“There is one more thing.”

She stared at the flickering candle on the opposite but could find no words to answer him.

“What is your name?”

She blinked up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your given name, Mrs. Harding.”

”It’s Caroline, why?”

He shrugged. “Seeing as we have enjoyed the most intimate of moments it seemed fitting that I should know your name.”

Anger stirred in her chest. “Do you always ask for the names of the women you bed?”

“Not always.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Sometimes it’s too dark to see exactly who has crawled under the sheets, but one does one’s best to pleasure them anyway.”

“You are… immoral.”

“Indeed,” He bowed. “And sometimes the lady wishes to be discreet in case her husband catches her, and she uses a false name.”

“I do not understand you at all,” Caroline whispered.

“What’s to understand? I’m a man.”

“And men can take what they want, when they want it.”

“Exactly.” He bowed and kissed her averted cheek. “Goodnight, my dear Mrs. Harding, and please do not think of missing our meeting tomorrow.”

He finally released his grip on her elbow, and she turned and ran as if the very devil was pursuing her. He need not fear she wouldn’t answer his summons.

There was no safety anywhere for her. She’d known that ever since her husband had died and not amended his will leaving her to the mercy of his family.

Chapter 5

“Ah, Mrs. Harding. How are you this fine evening?”

Caroline rose from her seat and offered Captain Grafton a quick curtsey. He’d come into the workroom with Madame Louise who was smiling up at him as if he were a god. He wore his old army coat over a waistcoat, shirt and badly tied cravat. His buckskin breeches were tucked into black boots that gleamed with polish.

“I am quite well, thank you, Captain Grafton.”

The bath he had allowed her had done much to soothe both her spirits and the unaccustomed soreness between her legs. Not that she could completely erase the shocking sensation of his flesh against hers, the jolt of penetration, and of being locked against him…

She realized Madame had asked her a question. “I beg your pardon?”

“The good captain tells me that he has offered you employment, my dear.” Madame pouted. “I shall miss your excellent brain, but not your sewing.”

Captain Grafton smiled. “I’m sure Mrs. Harding will gladly handle your books as well as mine, ma’am. In fact, I will insist upon it.” He bowed to his companion. “Now, may I borrow her for a short while? I wish to acquaint her with her new duties.”

Hadn’t he already done that? Caroline caught his gaze and wondered whether he guessed her thoughts. He did seem to have an uncanny knack of understanding her, which was quite disconcerting.

“Mrs. Harding?” He went back to the door as Madame took a tour of the workroom to oversee the current state of the sewing.

Caroline followed him to the back of the shop, and into the outside lobby where there was a door and a staircase to the next floor. He withdrew a set of keys from his coat pocket and started up the stairs.

When she reached the landing, she paused to breathe in the smell of new wood and paint and looked around in surprise at the completely renovated space.

“Come on,” Captain Grafton turned left toward the front of the building where a half-glazed glass door now blocked the long corridor. He fiddled with the lock. “This will be the new office for my business interests.”

Bemused, Caroline stepped into a small room with a desk and a side view out of the building.

“I am to work here?”

“Yes. I will have all my business information sent here, where you can securely store my records and keep my books.”

“It is much nicer than the inn.”

“Indeed,” Captain Grafton said dryly. “Almost respectable.”

Caroline didn’t answer him but walked through to another set of connected rooms that looked out over the town square. Both were lined with bookshelves and contained a large desk.

“This will be my office.” She jumped as he spoke in her ear. “Do you approve?”

“It is not for me to approve or disapprove, is it Captain? I am merely here to do your bidding.”

“Ah yes, as to that…” His fingers brushed the back of her exposed neck making her shiver. “Come and see the rest of the place.”

He walked out of the offices, back along the main hallway, and through another door toward the rear of the building.

“I hope this will be sufficient.”

He held the door open for her to go past him and she found herself in a kitchen with a range, a fire, a table and four chairs.

“For what?” Caroline asked bemused.

He looked down at her. “For you, your mother and your sisters. There are two bedrooms and a newly installed water closet.” He pointed at the sink. “There is also running water.”

She walked further into the space, her arms wrapped around her waist. “We can’t afford to rent this.”

“On your new salary you can.” He leaned against the kitchen table, all lethal grace and energy. “And I must confess to an ulterior motive.”

“What would that be?”

“Access to you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Caroline barely managed the words. “I repaid my debt to you last night.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hardly, unless you value yourself very highly indeed.”

“I hardly valued myself if I allowed you to take me to bed in the first place, did I?” Caroline protested.

“You are a pragmatist, Mrs. Harding. You did what was best for your family.” He slowly stood and looked down at her, one hand in his pocket. “Your debt to me still registers a considerable balance.”

“You would come and share my bed here—with my sisters present, with my mother? Do you have no shame?”

“Not really, but there is no need to stiffen up with such righteous indignation, Mrs. Harding. The two bedrooms are for your mother and sisters, the third is here.”

He took her hand, and marched her down the interior hallway, throwing open each door as they passed it.

“Here are the two bedrooms, one either side of the kitchen, then there is a indoor water closet and a large storage cupboard before your room.” He unlatched the door and put his hand in the small of her back to usher her inside. “You will note that there is another door that leads back into my offices.”

Caroline drew in a shaking breath. “How very clever of you, Captain. And how convenient.”

“I thought so.” He had the nerve to bow. “I originally designed the bedroom for my own use, but I think my new purpose for it is better.”

“You don’t intend to share it with me every night? I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.” Caroline’s voice wobbled slightly.

“Now, now, Mrs. Harding there is no need for sarcasm. I’d happily move in with you tomorrow, but I am attempting to protect your reputation.”

“What reputation? Everyone knows I belong to you, sir.”

“Good.”

There was an implacable note in his voice. He turned to the door. She couldn’t help but notice there was a bruise on his jaw, and that his knuckles were bloodied.

“If you don’t want the place, tell me now, and we can continue our previous arrangement of meeting in the George and retiring upstairs to my bed.”

Caroline turned away and stared out of the window. What to do? The notion of living in such luxury appealed to her greatly, but at what cost to her integrity? She briefly closed her eyes. Had she really expected him to let her get away with one night in his bed?

“How much is the rent?”

He strolled over to her, his expression unreadable. “Seeing as you keep my books, shall we say the same as you paid for your current residence?”

“This is worth much more.”

“I do love the way your honesty asserts itself at the most inopportune of moments.” He slid two fingers under her chin so she had to look at him. “Do not despair. I won’t be here much. You won’t have to lower yourself to bed me too often.”

“I couldn’t get much lower than I already am, sir,” Caroline countered.

Something flashed in his eyes. “You’re wrong about that. I’ve seen people sell their bodies for a sip of water or a piece of bread. I’ve seen them grovel and beg to be fucked.”

“Then I can only pray I never experience that.”

“I don’t pray.” He kissed her on the mouth hard enough to make her gasp. “But I, too, hope you never fall so low.”

He stepped away from her, his gaze its usual mixture of mockery and challenge again and held out his hand. “Do we have a deal, Mrs. Harding?”

She took his hard-callused fingers in her own and shook them. “Yes, Captain Grafton, we do.”

“Excellent.” he handed her one set of keys. “You can move in over the weekend.”

“I don’t quite understand, dear. Why is Captain Grafton offering us new lodgings?” Marie complained.

Caroline fixed a smile on her face as she poured her mother’s tea. “As I’ve already explained, Mother. I’m going to work for him as his bookkeeper and my new wages mean that we can afford to live in a better place. It will be most convenient for you, too.”

She looked up as the kitchen door opened and her sisters came in. Her heart sank as she noticed they’d brought Jon Ford along with them.

Ruby skipped around the table to kiss her mother and Caroline, and Ivy slipped into her seat with a quick smile.

“Can Mr. Ford join us, Caroline?” Ruby asked. “He’s been telling me about a Bible study group he wishes to take for an afternoon out at one of the local farms.”

“Of course he may.” Caroline poured another cup of tea as Jon took off his hat and sat down at the table. “He is always welcome here.”

In truth, she’d tried hard to avoid him since her unfortunate encounter with Captain Grafton. She sensed he would be disappointed with her, and she couldn’t deal with that yet because she was disappointed in herself.

“It’s just a thought at the moment.” Jon accepted the tea with his thanks and sipped the hot brew. “I suspect some of the children have never ventured out of the town before and might be too afraid to risk it.”

“When you have to work ten hours a day, you probably don’t get much time to do anything except eat and sleep when you’re home,” Ruby stated. “It’s so unfair, Caroline.”

“I agree.” Caroline concentrated on dividing up the pork pies between them all.

Jon touched her wrist and murmured. “Don’t worry about feeding me, lass. My mother has my tea waiting for me when I get home.”

“As you wish,” Caroline handed out the plates and then realized she was far too nervous to actually eat. She tried to remind herself that she was doing the best for her family, but it was hard.

“Did Caroline tell you that we are moving, Mr. Ford?” Marie asked.

“No, ma’am she didn’t.” He put his cup down on the table, his expression surprised.

“I was going to wait until you were all home,” Caroline said hesitantly as she scanned their expectant faces. “We’re moving into lodgings over Madame Louise’s shop. It will be most convenient for work, Mother, won’t it?”

Jon frowned. “I heard Captain Grafton bought that building. Is he letting it to tenants now?”

The thin sliver of pie Caroline had managed to put in her mouth stuck in her throat. “He is moving his office of business there and had a small apartment to rent at the back of the property. He offered to me.”

“Did he now?” Jon’s steady brown gaze met hers. “That’s… convenient for you.”

Even as her sisters started asking a volley of excited questions, Caroline stood and grabbed her shawl.

“Will you all excuse me for a moment?”

She turned left out of the front door and walked aimlessly toward the town square. It wasn’t long before she became aware that she was no longer alone and that Jon Ford was at her side. He took hold of her elbow and drew her to a stop.

“Put on your coat, lass. It’s cold out here.”

She allowed him to help her and didn’t demur when he took her hand and led her toward the church and graveyard just off the main square.

“Tell me.”

She sat on the edge of a stone burial memorial and stared down at the ground.

“What would you like me to say?”

He sighed. “Is it true? Did he offer you the place?”

“Yes. At the same rent.” She looked up at him. “Feel free to tell me what you think of me. I’m sure everyone else will.”

He was still for so long that he almost faded into the shadows.

“Will you marry me, Caroline?”

“What?” She exclaimed. “Did you not hear what I said?”

He smiled. “I heard you.”

She stood up. “Then you must know that I would never marry you after—" she gulped down some much-needed air. “After him.”

“Ah. So that’s true as well, then.”

“How can you be so calm?” Caroline asked. “Why aren’t you raging at me and calling me all those vile names I probably deserve?”

He leaned in and used his thumb to wipe the tears flowing down her cheek. “Don’t cry.”

The next moment she was in his arms and she was sobbing like a madwoman while he held her and murmured sweet encouragement.

“I didn’t want any of this, I didn’t want him, or the apartment, or any of it, but I can’t see my way out of it, do you see?” Caroline spoke through her tears. “I just want my mother and sisters not to have to worry about having enough food or coal to keep us warm, or…”

“It’s all right, lass. I understand.” He stroked her hair with his big strong hand.

“How can you?”

His smile was crooked. “Because I know you, and I know you’d defend your family like a lioness. I… admire that about you.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed a hand over the lapel of his coat. “I can’t marry you. You deserve better.”

“I don’t agree with that,” he said stoutly.

“Your mother would never speak to you again.”

“Aye, that’s a possibility.”

“One that I will not allow to happen.” Caroline finally stopped crying. “She loves you, and you deserve better than Captain Grafton’s leavings.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” He frowned down at her. “You did what was necessary. I don’t like it, but I understand why you did it.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Caroline said unsteadily. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He took her hand in his and kissed it. “I’ll always be here for you and your family. If you need me, just ask. If he gets you pregnant and runs out on you, let me know, and I’ll marry you in an instant.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but I would like it if we can remain friends.” Caroline met his gaze, facing the pain in his eyes as he accepted her decision. “That would mean the world to me.”

“Aye. Me too.” He offered her his arm. “Now let me take you home, and then I’ll be off to my mother’s.”

The next morning, after a troubled night’s sleep, Caroline escorted her mother to Madame Louise’s, and then went upstairs to where she was told Captain Grafton awaited her. He was in what would be his office and had already installed his chair and desk from the George and Dragon. His expression wasn’t encouraging as she approached his desk.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harding.”

“Good morning. Captain Grafton. You requested my presence.”

“Yes, I am leaving for London tonight. I have instructed Mrs. Bridgewater to deliver my belongings to this office over the next day or two. I expect you to arrange them in a pleasing order before my return.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“I have also purchased furniture for your office, and other rooms in your family apartment.”

“You did not need—”

He waved away her words. “I do not want mold infested or inferior furniture in my newly finished accommodation. Leave as much as you can in the old place please.”

“If you insist.” Caroline paused. “Is there anything else?”

“You will continue to help Madame with her books and can start dealing with mine on a daily basis as of Monday. I have a new rent collector, a Mr. Daniel O’Brien. He will present himself to you first thing in the morning.”

“What happened to Mr. Keswick?” Caroline repressed a shudder as she remembered his hands on her.

Captain Grafton looked up at her. “He will not trouble you again. If you even lay eyes on him, tell Mr. Bridgewater at the George and he will be taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “The fool stole money from me. I cannot allow that.”

“Is that a warning, sir?”

He leaned back in his chair and considered her, one black brow raised. “Your honesty speaks for itself, Mrs. Harding, but money does have a way of corrupting even the most innocent of souls. If you chose to see Keswick as a warning, then I will not stop you.”

“I don’t intend to cheat you, Captain.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He held up a letter. “This is a note for my bank giving you access to a limited amount of my funds.”

“Why would I need that?”

“You never know when a bribe needs to be paid or an employee bailed out of gaol. You will be my representative in Millcastle, Mrs. Harding. I don’t expect you to let me down.”

“I will do my best not to do that, sir.” Caroline curtsied and tucked the note into her pocket. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to set about moving into our new abode.”

She had half turned to the door before he spoke again.

“One more thing, Mrs. Harding. When you are in my employ, and under my protection, I do not expect to hear about you wandering the streets hand in hand with another man.”

Caroline slowly turned to face him. Was that why he was in such a foul mood? She would have to be careful. Not for her benefit, but to protect her friend.

“I can assure you that it will not happen again,” she spoke slowly and clearly, but refused to show any fear.

“I’m glad to hear it. One would hate to have to intervene in such a matter.”

She met his cold gaze. “There is no reason for you to do that. I promise you.”

“Good. I’ve never thought you stupid, Mrs. Harding. Loyal to a fault, perhaps but then that is usually considered a good thing.”

“I understand what you are saying, Captain.” Caroline tamped down on her desire to slap his face. “I would never put any friendship of mine in such jeopardy.”

“Friendship, eh?” He smiled, but it wasn’t reassuring. “I suspect Mr. Ford would like much more than that from you.”

Caroline wasn’t going to discuss her relationship with Jon Ford with this man. He didn’t deserve it. She vowed then and there to protect Jon from anything Captain Grafton might devise for him by becoming as circumspect as a nun.

“Have a safe journey down to London, sir.”

She curtsied, and this time he let her go. She all but ran down the stairs, her fear for Jon sending her straight around to his mother’s house, which was closer to the square, and in a far better street than her current lodgings. She knocked on the door, and eventually Martha Ford, Jon’s mother, opened it. She didn’t look pleased to see Caroline at all.

“I apologize for disturbing you, ma’am, but did your son go to work today as usual?”

“Aye, of course he did.” Mrs. Ford made no effort to invite Caroline off the cobbled street into her spotless kitchen.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Caroline pressed a hand to her heart, her breathing ragged. “Then I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.”

Mrs. Ford didn’t look any happier. “I do hope you haven’t got my son mixed up with that lecherous godless, Captain Grafton, Mrs. Harding? He’s in enough trouble with that silly reform nonsense as it is. Did you hear what the Captain did to Billy Keswick because of you? Set on him and beat him to a pulp with his own hands, he did, almost killed the man…”

That would explain Captain Grafton’s bruised knuckles… Caroline tried not to picture the scene, but she could see it all too well. Captain Grafton would not hesitate to administer his own variety of justice. He was indeed a godless man who feared nothing.

“I want you to tell Jon to… stay away from me,” Caroline said in a rush. “I value him too highly to wish for him to be harmed in any way.”

Mrs. Ford sucked in her breath and then nodded. “I hear you. I’ll do my best although the poor addled creature thinks he’s in love with you.”

“I swear I have done nothing to encourage that.” Caroline held her ground. “I value his friendship very highly, but—”

“You’re not in love with him. Good.” Mrs. Ford said decisively. “Then I’ll do my best to keep him from bothering you.”

“Thank you.”

“I thought you were a bit of a fragile flower when I first met you, Mrs. Harding, but I underestimated you.” Mrs. Ford patted Caroline’s shoulder. “Now get along with you lass, I’ve bread and soup to make, and an oven to heat up.”

Caroline walked slowly back to her lodgings where she hoped Ivy and Ruby were busy packing their belongings. She would have to protect Jon from Captain Grafton’s unnecessary possessive streak, but it would be hard to give up the only friend she had… If he stayed friends with Ruby and Ivy she would still hear about him and he would hear of her—not that she wanted to give him any hope that she would or could change her mind.

She didn’t love him. She admired and respected him, but that was the extent of it, and she wouldn’t cheapen his admiration of her with falseness.

It was ironic that she had finally won the grudging approval of Martha Ford by giving up her son. Caroline unlocked the front door and stepped into the hallway of her lodgings. The usual odor of boiled cabbage and dampness assailed her nostrils. She couldn’t wait to move into the new rooms with the indoor water closet and running water. No more emptying buckets of night soil or standing in the street getting dirty water from the only pipe.

“The wages of sin,” Caroline murmured to herself as she went into the kitchen.

“Did you say something?” Ruby looked up from packing away their meager collection of unmatched china in a wooden crate gleaned from the market.

“No, I was just thinking out loud,” Caroline found a smile and walked over to her sister. “Now, how can I help?”

Chapter 6

Francis stood at the open door and studied Mrs. Harding’s bent head. It was dark outside, and she had closed the curtains and lit the lamps, giving the room a sense of intimacy and warmth he found curiously appealing. He hadn’t seen her for four weeks but had thought about her often. Her pen scratched on the paper and she frowned, her lips moving as if she was doing some complicated mental calculations.

She looked nothing like the ladies he had just left in London with their perfume and paint and their worldliness that allowed them to accept the acquaintance of a known reprobate like himself. Like him, they knew the value of every transaction and weighed it against their own needs. Like him they rated his blatant physicality against his honesty, requiring the first, and not caring much about the second,

He’d have her in her bed soon, unwrap her body from the cheap clothing encasing it, and make her gasp, and moan, and…

“Captain Grafton!” She looked straight at him and pressed her hand to her bosom. “You startled me!”

“Good evening, Mrs. Harding.”

He closed the door behind him and advanced toward the desk, his tiredness forgotten as the scent of her lavender soap invaded his senses. She put down her pen and sat up straight, the only evidence of her awareness of him in the quick rise and fall of her breasts.

“You look… well.” Francis said slowly.

“Thank you,” She fidgeted with a loose strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “Do you wish to see the books?”

“No, I wish to see you naked.”

She pursed her lips. “As you wish, sir.” She capped her inkwell, closed the accounts book, and locked it in her desk. “May I take a moment to speak to my family?”

“And tell them what?”

“That you have returned, and that you require my presence to go over the books. They will not disturb me then.”

“Very clever.” He reached out an idle finger and traced the line of her jaw. “Hurry up.”

Color rose on her cheeks as she bobbed him a curtsey and fled the room. He went into his office to find the decanter of brandy and two glasses, and then used the door into her bedroom locking it behind him. She’d made no effort to decorate the room with womanly fripperies, leaving it sadly impersonal and reminding him rather too much of some of the brothels he’d visited in his youth.

Why hadn’t she bothered? Francis frowned. Did she see the room as an extension of her employment? And why did it offend him?

He didn’t bother to turn around as she came through the exterior door that led to her lodgings and locked it behind her.

“Why is this room so bare?” Francis asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This room. Don’t you have any pictures or ornaments to decorate it with?”

She studied him as if her were a particularly dense pupil.

“I pawned everything I brought with me from my former life. I have nothing left to decorate it with.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

He knew how it felt to be desperate. At one point, he’d regularly pawned the coat of his back and only paid the fee for its return when he needed to appear in decent society.

“Are your current wages still not sufficient for such things, Mrs. Harding?”

“I am attempting to save as much money as I can, Captain.” She came further into the room, her gaze fixed on him, her hands fisted at her sides. “Do you want me to undress?”

He crouched down by the fire and banked it up with more coal from the scuttle. Even when she was offering herself to him, she still managed to make him feel bloody inferior. It was quite remarkable, and a skill he realized he admired.

“Not quite yet.”

He stood up, dusted his hands down on his breeches, took off his coat and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. He unpinned and removed his cravat and then sat down to take off his muddy boots and socks.

Mrs. Harding remained frozen to the spot where he had left her. Had she ever seen a naked man? Francis had a strong suspicion that the late Mr. Harding had not been the kind of man who pranced around naked even in the sanctity of his own bedroom. He stood and undid the waistband of his breeches releasing the pressure on his already hard cock before pushing them off.

He hadn’t intended to strip for her, but he couldn’t resist. Holding her shocked gaze, he slowly lifted his arms and took off his shirt. Her faint gasp as his cock was revealed made him smile. He walked over to her, took her unresisting hand, and placed it on his naked chest. The wet crown of his cock prodded her hip, but she didn’t move away.

Her fingers slid around his bicep.

“Did you really beat Mr. Keswick?”

“Yes, of course.”

Her fingers tightened sending her nails into his skin. “Good.”

He slowly removed the pins from her hair, which looked far shinier than it had before. Not so much a drab little sparrow now, more a golden wren.

“I must confess I didn’t do it for you.” Or perhaps he had, but she didn’t need to know how he felt about any man who took out their anger on a woman with their fists.

She shivered. “I am just glad that he is gone.”

“Mmm…” He took her hand from his arm and drew it down to his needy cock. “Touch me, here.”

Her breath hissed out as he closed her fingers around him. “I have never—”

“You have now.” He kissed her throat and bit down on her shoulder. “You’ll learn to enjoy it. A clever woman can control a man by his cock.” Especially when he taught her how to use her mouth on him, but that lesson would come in good time. He withdrew his hand from over hers. “Just hold my cock while I undress you.”

Caroline was finding it difficult to know where to place her gaze. Captain Grafton’s body was lean with defined muscle. His tanned skin was marred with many scars, and one of her hands was currently closed around his… what word should she call it? She’d never had to think about such things with her husband. He’d just stuck his member inside her, plunged around for a while, and that was that.

She adjusted her grip slightly as Captain Grafton leaned in to unlace her corset, and he made that purring noise again. Wetness streamed over her fingers making her skin stiff and starchy. The heat from his column of flesh was quite astonishing as was the throbbing.

“Use your fingers on me. Move them up and down.”

His mouth was so close to her ear that he barely needed to speak. The whole evening had turned into a ridiculous dream that was so unlike her everyday reality that she felt like a different person. Captain Grafton was naked, and she was touching him in the most intimate of manners while he undressed her.

“Mrs. Harding, your attention is not where it should be,”

She blinked up into his golden eyes, realizing he’d removed her corset and was about to start on her shift.

“I’m sorry.” She lifted her arms and allowed him to pull the thin linen over her head.

He took hold of her wrists and walked her backward to the edge of the bed.

“Sit.” He crouched down between her thighs and set his fingers on her knees to untie her garters. One sensible woolen stocking followed the other and was discarded on the floor. “Do you not have any silk stockings?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll buy you some.”

“There is no need.”

His warm breath feathered against her inner thigh, and she eased herself back onto the bed away from him.

“Stay there.” He grasped her knees and pulled them wide. A wave of heat blossomed in her cheeks.

“Don’t—”

He looked up at her. “You may lie back on the bed but keep your legs exactly as I have placed them.”

She did as he suggested and lay back, achingly aware that his gaze was level with her most intimate secrets and that the room was still lit. She gasped as he kissed her thigh and then went even higher.

“This is not… seemly,” Caroline spluttered.

“No, but it’s damned enjoyable.” He licked her lavishly, and she squeaked until his grip tightened on her spread thighs.

“Stay there, Mrs. Harding.”

His words vibrated against her sensitive flesh as he used his thumbs to spread her secrets. His mouth descended again, the rasp of his stubbled chin and the stabbing and licking of his tongue threw her into complete confusion. Heat built up, and she writhed against the sheets trying to both escape his thrusting tongue, yet unable to resist the siren call of her own need.

She blindly reached down and touched his head, tangling her fingers in his hair making him curse and take her harder. His fingers probed her, his thumb settled over the throb of her bub, and she was lost to the primitive driving rhythm he demanded. The slick thrusting wetness of his tongue and the abrasion of his thumb combined together to send her along a fevered pathway she had no ability to stop.

“Give in to me, Mrs. Harding,” he commanded between each offense on her senses. “Come for me.”

“I can’t…” She was terrified. She was desperate for the feelings to end—didn’t he understand that? “Make it stop.”

His laugh was pure sin as he pinned her in place, sucking on her bud as his fingers slicked through her need, and then he eased back to graze her with his teeth.

Caroline screamed and immediately turned her head into the covers to stifle the sound as she fell from need to satisfaction. Tears stung her eyes as her body relaxed into a pool of satiated thankfulness.

“Better,” Captain Grafton murmured as he withdrew his fingers.

Her tormentor joined her, drawing her fully onto the bed and positioning himself between her lax thighs.

“What are you doing?” Caroline gasped as he took hold of his cock and leaned over her.

“Fucking you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Surely you haven’t forgotten so quickly?”

“But you just—” She stared up at him in bewilderment until he started to smile.

“That was for you.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Should you not take your pleasure from me?”

“This isn’t about me,” Caroline demurred. “I am here because you called in your debt.”

“I am well aware of that.” He eased forward until the crown of his cock breached her. “But perhaps I want more. Perhaps I want you to want this—to miss this—to look forward to my return.”

She blinked at him as if he was insane, and he paused.

Why did he want that? He’d never required it of any of his other bed partners, but bringing Mrs. Caroline Harding to her knees, making her want… that appealed to him immensely. Like him, she was a fighter, and he admired that, but still…

He thrust forward, sheathing himself with one rock of his hips, and her blue eyes widened, and… God he held still as she climaxed around his cock like a beggar’s fist clenching around a penny. He forgot about anything but the need to join her, threw his calculations and disciplined thrusts into the abyss, and enjoyed every gasping, wrenching moment of it. He almost forgot to pull out, and only just made it, the heat of his come spilling on her soft belly in thick urgent jets.

He resisted the urge to collapse over her and rolled away, his senses more disturbed than he expected. She stayed still, her eyes closed as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened to her.

Caroline wanted to curl into a ball and just think, but Captain Grafton didn’t seem to be leaving. Was he expecting more? She bit her lip. Was there more? Her descent into the corruption of the flesh had been rapid and indecent. She’d given into her seducer and allowed him to experience her at her most base. He wouldn’t forget that and would use her own nature against her if he could.

She had to learn to control her emotions or she would be lost and no better than any of the other women she was certain Captain Grafton had bedded and left behind. She wanted to roll onto her side and touch his skin, feel the kick of his shaft as she squeezed it with her fingers.

“Immoral,” she whispered.

“Who? You or me?” He came up over her on one elbow, his black hair curling over his brow. “I am proud to be considered a blot on society.”

“And I have no choice in the matter,”

“That isn’t quite true though is it? You had the opportunity to continue your old life in the bosom of the Harding family.”

“Without my mother and sisters?”

“If you were less honest, Mrs. Harding, you would have meekly taken your place in that household and contrived, using your considerable wits to make sure you could support your mother and sisters as well.”

“I didn’t know I had any wits until I was forced to use them, and that didn’t occur until after I’d lost everything,” Caroline pointed out.

Something flashed in his eyes. “Now that does make some kind of sense. I only learned to look out for myself after my fall from grace.”

“What did you do?” If she kept him talking, she might forget that they were both still naked and in her bed. She hesitantly touched his skin. “You have obviously been badly beaten at some time.”

“Which time would you like to hear about, ma’am?” His smile was bleaker at the edges than she had anticipated. “The faint stripes from my inglorious career at a prestigious public school where a good beating instills character? Or the later whipping from the abrupt end of my military career?”

“You were discharged from the military?” Caroline asked. “Whatever for?”

He shrugged and moved away from her. “Many things. All of which would garner your complete and utter disapproval.”

Caroline scrambled to sit up as well as he stalked over to the washstand and used her jug of cold water and soap to wash himself. Perhaps there was a way to make him forget about the bedding part by distracting him with questions.

He gathered his clothing and got dressed with speedy efficiency.

“I will see you in the morning to go over the books.” He bowed. “Good night, Mrs. Harding.”

“Goodnight, sir,” she replied.

He left locking the door into his office behind him. Caroline fell back on the pillows in relief. He’d gone. She’d survived his most intimate of attentions and learned some rather interesting things in return. Now she just had to change her shift, wash with what remained of the water, and decide how to conceal the resulting laundry from her family.

She sighed and slid out of bed. Sometimes the wages of sin seemed extraordinarily banal and rather confusing.

Francis looked up as his new rent collector, Daniel O’Brien, a recent immigrant from Ireland knocked smartly on his door.

“Morning, Captain.”

“Come in and shut the door.” Francis waved him inside. “How have things been in the delightful slums of Millcastle this month?”

“Profitable.” O’Brien smiled. “And might become even more so, Captain.”

“How so?” Francis invited the man to sit.

“I met a gentleman who is very interested in speaking to you in person, sir. A businessman connected with both the building of canals and steam locomotives.”

Francis frowned. “As the only coal mines I own are far too small to deserve the use of a steam locomotive, and I have no interests in the potteries, I cannot see the financial gain for myself.”

“These steam locomotion engines will be used for passengers, sir.” Mr. O’Brien said.

“Passengers? As in ferrying people from place to place?” Francis raised an eyebrow. “That sounds rather fantastical and not profitable at all.”

“Have you not heard of the Stockton to Darlington railway, sir? The line uses steam locomotives and carriages and is proving to be reliable and profitable.”

Francis sat back in his chair and looked at his agent. “How fast do these ‘passenger locomotives’ travel?”

“Between twelve and fifteen miles an hour I believe, sir.”

Francis whistled. “Good Lord. Who would want to do that when you can ride a horse? I’m still not sure why this man wishes to speak to me, but you may tell him to call on me this week.”

Daniel O’Brien stood up and bowed. “I will do so, sir. And now, I must take myself off and begin the joyless task of persuading your tenants to part with their money.”

He paused at the door. “I assume Mrs. Harding has no complaints about the money I’m bringing in?”

“I haven’t spoken to her about the books yet, but rest assured, if there are discrepancies you will be hearing from me.” Francis rearranged his pens. “Good day, Mr. O’Brien.”

Within five minutes of his agent’s departure, there was another knock at his door and Mrs. Harding came in the accounts books in her hands.

“I assumed you wish to see the books, sir.”

He studied her carefully, wondering how she managed to look both so stern and so damned alluring in her plain blouse and bottle green skirt and jacket. It occurred to him that the more he pleasured her in bed, the more severe she appeared. Did she think he wouldn’t notice her charms if she repressed them so carefully?

The urge to sit her on his desk, throw up her skirts, and lick and nuzzle his way to her core made his cock kick up.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harding.”

The look she gave him was wary, as if she guessed his thoughts were in the gutter.

“Captain Grafton.”

He gestured at the chair next to his. “Bring the books to me and sit down.”

She gripped them even harder to her bosom. “I’d rather sit on the other side of the desk.”

“And I would rather you sat with me.” He met her gaze. “Do you think I will ravish you in my own office?”

Her cheeks flushed. “It would hardly be the first time.”

“You wrong me. That was my bedroom. This is my office. The two are quite distinct.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come here, Mrs. Harding.”

After his reluctant paramour left in a huff to sort out some discrepancies he had noticed in the last month’s accounts, Francis strolled over to the window and glanced out at the busy square beneath him. It was market day, and the place was full of vendors and buyers looking for a good bargain. He noticed one of Caroline’s sister’s returning to the house with a basket full of paper parcels wrapped in string and various vegetables.

The thought that Caroline was now able to eat properly was deeply satisfying. He went back to his desk and lit a cigar. She’d be back soon, eager to prove that her calculations were perfectly correct, and that he was wrong. He doubted he was. Despite years of being told that he was stupid he’d discovered he was remarkably adept at counting every penny.

There was a letter on his desk from his mother, which he still hadn’t opened and had no intention of replying to. She wrote to him about every six months, After the first letter, which was a thinly disguised plea for money couched in a desire for him to come home and apologize for his transgressions, he hadn’t bothered to open any more. His father was dead, which was deeply gratifying, but he had no wish to either apologize or weep tears over the old tyrant’s grave. They’d been more than happy to throw him to the wolves when he’d been disgraced in India—hadn’t even been interested in hearing his side of the story. He owed them nothing.

“Oh, my goodness!”

Something thumped against his office door, and he strode over to open it only to discover the contents of the sister’s shopping basket rolling around on the floor. He stooped down to pick up the cabbage and placed it back in captivity.

“Thank you, sir,” She smiled at him reminding him of her sister even more. “I tripped on the last step and everything went flying.”

Francis retrieved two onions and a jar of jam that had somehow survived the fall.

“You’re Captain Grafton, aren’t you?”

“Indeed I am, and you are?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Ruby Delisle.”

“Mrs. Harding’s sister?”

“One of them. Our youngest sister’s name is Ivy.” She drew herself up to her full height. “I wanted to thank you.”

Francis pointed at the basket. “You just did.”

“No, I meant for offering us these rooms to rent. We are truly blessed.” Her big blue eyes opened wide. “You saved us.”

“I damn well did not.” Francis took a step back. “I merely offered your sister a more convenient living arrangement, which meant she was more easily available to work for me.”

“It was still good of you,” Ruby insisted. “Which, considering your reputation around here, is quite remarkable.”

“My reputation?”

Ruby shrugged. “You own all the slums in Three Dials, and everyone’s afraid of you.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“You sound quite proud of yourself.” She studied him, her head on one side. “Why?”

“Because I’ve worked hard to be feared and wealthy. And I intend to stay that way for the rest of my life.”

“At the expense of everyone who lives in Millcastle?” Ruby’s cheek’s flushed as she squared off with him.

“At the expense of everyone except myself, actually.”

“You are a very selfish man,” Ruby stated.

“Indeed.” Francis bowed. “Now perhaps if you have finished insulting your landlord, you had better run along.”

She grabbed the basket, held it close to her chest, and bit her lip.

“You won’t evict us, will you?”

“Not yet.” Francis pointed down the corridor. “Keep this up, and I might reconsider.”

She turned and ran down to the kitchen at the other end of the building. Francis heard the door slam. Ruby was as feisty and opinionated as her sister. Her clear-eyed condemnation of him and his morals reminded him of his younger self—the stupid boy who had believed in all those honorable things until the world had shown him they were worthless and meaningless.

“Captain Grafton, were you speaking to my sister?”

He turned to see Caroline at the top of the stairs, the accounting book for the dressmaker in her hand.

“Yes, I helped her pick up some vegetables that dropped on the floor. It seemed preferable to breaking my neck. Why?”

“Ruby can be quite… outspoken about the things she believes in.” Caroline hesitated. “She is quite young and impassioned.”

“So I gathered.” Francis went to turn away, but she caught hold of his arm. “What?”

“Please don’t be angry with her. I will tell her to keep away from you in future.”

“Why would you do that? Do you think she has the ability to embarrass me or shame me?” Francis smiled. “Your sister is entitled to her opinions, my dear Mrs. Harding. I will not hold them against her. Now, have you discovered your error? I am more than willing to accept your heartfelt apology.”

Chapter 7

“Caroline?”

Caroline looked up from her work to see her mother waving frantically at her from the doorway.

“Can you help me? Madame is not in the shop, and there are some new customers who wish to speak to someone with a better command of English than Yvette.”

“Why can’t you help them?” Caroline asked as she replaced her pen in the inkwell and blotted her work. To her annoyance, Captain Grafton had been correct in his calculations, but she’d worked out that the fault had been Madame’s accountant not hers and couldn’t wait to tell him so.

“I am finishing up a gown for Miss Marsham who is coming in with her Mama this afternoon for a final fitting in less than an hour. I do not have time to spare!”

Caroline smoothed down her skirts and reluctantly followed her mother down the stairs and out into the front of the shop. She occasionally had to perform such tasks for Madame, but she didn’t enjoy them.

“Oh my goodness!”

Caroline blinked as the younger of the two ladies standing by the large shop window that faced out onto the busy square turned and spotted her. Tightness gathered like a fist under her ribs as she forced herself to greet the newcomers.

“Mrs. Harding, Miss Rebecca Harding. What a pleasure to see you. How can I assist you in Madame’s absence?”

Her mother-in-law looked her up and down as if she were a servant. “So it is true.”

Caroline gripped her hands together at her waist and raised her chin. Unsure of quite what her deceased husband’s mother was about to accuse her of, she decided that a haughty silence was her best option.

“You are… employed here?” Miss Harding asked.

“What else did you expect me to do when you refused to offer my family a home? In order to have food and shelter one has to work.” In her head, Caroline pictured Captain Grafton’s sneering expression as she faced down the family who had so easily abandoned her. “In truth, I have two jobs.”

Mrs. Harding pressed a hand to her chest and sank down onto one of the dainty satin chairs that adorned the salon.

“How could you?”

“How could I what? Refuse to die on the street or end up in the workhouse?”

Mrs. Harding moaned. “You are dragging our family name in the dirt.”

“No, you did that when you forced me to make a choice between abandoning my family or coming to live with you.” Caroline found a smile somewhere. “But, rest assured, no one here is aware of the connection between us. I have no intention of sharing it. I am enjoying being gainfully employed, earning my own money, and not being dependent on anyone.”

Miss Harding stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “Caroline, you are unjust. My father made this choice, and we were honor bound to obey him.”

“So you said at the time.” Caroline turned back to her mother-in-law. “Now do you wish to discuss new gowns for yourself and your daughter? Madame will be back very shortly if you care to wait.”

She caught a glimpse of movement in the open doorway at the back of the shop and saw her mother and a darker shadow behind her that could only be Captain Grafton.

“We will go,” Miss Harding’s voice was trembling. “But you should expect a visit from my father. He will not be pleased that you are still here.”

Caroline curtsied. “I would be delighted to speak to him whenever he has the opportunity. Good day, ma’am, Miss Harding.”

She turned on her heel and made a stately exit through the workrooms, and then bolted up the stairs. She was breathing so hard, the bones of her corset dug into her ribs. When she gained the upper level, she rested her head against the wall in a forlorn attempt to regain her composure.

The sound of clapping made her shut her eyes and then slowly turn around to face Captain Grafton who was standing in the open door of his office lazily applauding her.

“Well done, Mrs. Harding. Bravo.”

She glared at him. “This is not amusing.”

“I thought it was. For how long have you yearned to say your piece to those awful women?”

“Ever since they cast me out.” Caroline let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t even need to think about the words. They just poured out of me. If they find out that you are one of my employers, they will probably get Mr. Harding to ask you to dismiss me.”

“Seeing as you are a woman of many talents, Mrs. Harding, it is unlikely that I will listen to him.”

“Please do not tell him that.” She shuddered. “Although I suspect my father-in-law would be less mortified about me discreetly becoming some man’s mistress than in openly working in a shop for wages.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.” He nodded. “Do you need to speak to me about anything?”

Caroline gathered her resources. For some reason, his bracing company and frank appreciation of her appalling behavior had somehow settled her nerves.

“Nothing in particular, although I did find that error, and it was not mine, but Madame’s accountant.”

His sudden smile was unexpected. “Of course it was. I expected nothing less of you.”

“I doubt the Harding ladies will be purchasing their gowns from Madame for much longer,” Caroline said.

“Good. She doesn’t need the business of sanctimonious busybodies anyway.” He turned toward his office. “Will you dine with me at the George?”

“You are asking me?” Caroline studied him. “You usually command.”

“I’ve obviously been stricken by politeness.” He shrugged all grace and restless energy. “It still is a command. I will not take it well if you do not join me.”

“I need to finish up Madame’s books and help my mother with the last appointment of the day with the Marshams first.” Caroline curtsied. “After that I will join you.”

“Come in Mr. Fletcher.” Francis held the door open and ushered the man from the steam locomotive company into his office. Mrs. Harding had gone back to help out in the shop, and his afternoon appointment had arrived. “I appreciate you finding the time to visit me.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.”

Mr. Fletcher took a seat in front of Francis’s desk and removed his hat. He had the ruddy complexion of a man used to working outdoors and the faint burr of Ireland in his mellow voice.

Francis sat behind his desk and folded his hands together on the blotter. “I understand that you are considering running a passenger locomotive service into Millcastle.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“I’m not sure why you thought I might be interested in investing in such a thing. I have no experience in this area, and I must admit to some skepticism as the idea that any sane person would allow themselves to be taken at such speed anywhere.”

Mr. Fletcher smiled. “I originally shared your concerns, Captain Grafton, but having been on many locomotives, I am a firm believer that once people realize how much time they will save on their journeys they will come around.” He sat forward. “And the advantages for transporting heavy goods directly into the hearts of new thriving mill towns such as this are undisputed.”

“I can see that,” Francis said slowly. “Transporting cotton from the docks to the mills on the piss poor roads we have up here has always been an issue.”

Mr. Fletcher chuckled. “They do say that the last good roads in this country were built a thousand years ago by the Romans.”

“And I would agree with that assessment.” Francis regarded his visitor. “Can you be more explicit as to your plans, and the part you want me to play in them? I am reluctant to invest in machinery that I do not understand.”

“I agree with that stance, Captain, and in your case it’s not an investment in the machinery that we are after. In truth, the boot’s on the other foot.”

“How so?” Francis inquired.

Mr. Fletcher went over to the window and pointed down at the square where an old statue of some ancient ancestor of Francis’s family sat atop a horse brandishing his sword.

“We want some of your land.”

Francis joined him at the window. “For what purpose?”

“To build a grand passenger locomotive station and perhaps a hotel to sit alongside it.” Mr. Fletcher pointed to the opposite side of the square where the old medieval buildings huddled like a bunch of whores on the corner. “If you were inclined to invest the money you’ll receive for the building of either of those items, that would also be acceptable.”

Francis considered the square and tried to picture a grand hotel and station built of stone replacing the ancient medieval buildings and the warren of slums known as Three Coins behind it. The newly formed town council would probably be most grateful for the removal of its most impoverished tenants, and the reduction in begging and theft would no doubt be substantial…

He turned to Mr. Fletcher who was watching him intently. “I’d definitely be interested in hearing a full proposal from you on this matter, sir. But I do have one request.”

“Name it,” Mr. Fletcher said promptly.

“I’d prefer for these negotiations to be kept strictly between ourselves.”

“I understand, sir. Reclaiming and repurposing land can be a tricky business sometimes, and we wouldn’t want anyone getting themselves all agitated about it now, would we?”

“Exactly, Mr. Fletcher.” Francis held out his hand. “It has been a pleasure.”

After coming through the kitchen of the George and Dragon and speaking to Nancy Bridgewater, Caroline made her way up the backstairs to Captain Grafton’s official bedchamber. She tapped on the door and was told to enter. Her employer—she refused to think of him as anything other than that, sat by the fire reading a book, a glass of red wine in one hand.

“Good evening Mrs. Harding.” He held up his glass. “Please don’t pour this one over my head. It is far too good to waste.”

Caroline untied the ends of her shawl and sat down opposite him. “I still cannot believe I did that to you in the first place.”

He looked up at her over his book. “You were extremely angry with me.”

“I was scared. I couldn’t find the rent money, your agent was threatening me, and for all I knew I’d soon be on the streets or begging at the workhouse door for admittance.”

“I probably deserved it.”

“Indeed.” Caroline agreed.

He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” Caroline said. “Madame has returned to the shop, and the Marsham ladies were thrilled with Mother’s work, so the day didn’t end as badly as it began.”

“Marsham?” Francis asked. “I think I’ve met the father. He owns at least two cotton mills and is planning on a third. He can well afford for his womenfolk to buy new dresses and ape the manners of their betters.”

“They seemed perfectly presentable to me.”

“Liar.” He raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t brought up in some piddling aspiring ‘middle class’ household, and your grandparents definitely weren’t weavers or coal miners.”

“That is true, but—”

“Then you aren’t like the Marshams.” He closed his book with a definite snap.

“They are wealthier than I will ever be,” she pointed out, “And as local gossip says, your family belong to the aristocracy, perhaps you should not sneer so loudly.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Mrs. Harding?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever heard of the French Revolution?”

“Are you personally looking forward to seeing my head on a pike?” He raised his wine glass to her. “I have nothing to do with my family anymore. They disowned me.”

“Why?”

“None of your business, my dear.”

Caroline abruptly pressed her lips together. She’d almost forgotten the danger that lurked behind his unusually relaxed demeanor and had been enjoying their conversation.

“I do beg your pardon.” She sipped her wine and stared into the depths of the fire, mentally calculating how much profit Madame Louise would make from the four extra gowns the Marsham ladies had ordered that afternoon and whether she could demand a commission.

“Cat got your tongue?”

She raised her gaze to meet Captain Grafton’s amber eyes. “I understand that it might snow tomorrow.”

“So I hear.”

“Which makes me glad that I live above the shop and don’t have to walk to my place on employment every day.”

He inclined his dark head, his gaze still guarded. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t think I will send Ruby out to Lanark House tomorrow if it snows.”

“What does she do there?”

“She acts as a paid companion to Mrs. Sims.”

He frowned. “The girl should be at school.”

“What school? There is nowhere for her to go. The mill doesn’t employ her, so she can’t attend even their pitiful facilities, and she is nineteen, well past the age of schooling.”

“Did you stop learning at that age?”

“I had a governess until I was eighteen and I made my debut in local society.”

“Where you met the sadly deceased Mr. Harding and quickly married him.” He topped up his wine. “Did his family approve of the match at the time?”

“They seemed to be fine about it then,” Caroline answered him carefully. “Although I did not get to meet them until after the wedding, which was perhaps a mistake. I met Nigel in India and married him there. Two years later when my mother decided to return to England we decided we would all travel home together and start afresh.” She sighed. “By the time we completed the long voyage Nigel was already dead, and we had nowhere to turn, but to his parents. ”

“Did you bring a dowry with you?”

Caroline stared at him. “That is none of your business, is it?”

Unlike her he continued talking unperturbed.

“If they did take your dowry, and your father agreed to certain financial settlements on you—which every good father should do to protect his daughter—you are probably owed a widow’s pension or some kind of financial payment from the Hardings since your husband is now deceased. You should consult a lawyer.”

“I do not have the funds to do that and certainly didn’t just after my husband’s death.”

“Could your family not do it for you?”

“Unfortunately, my grandparents are now deceased. My father died just after Ivy was born and we had no say in the marriage settlements.” Caroline set her glass down with something of a thump. “If they were alive do you think I would be sitting here right now in this predicament?”

“From the indignant expression on your face, one would assume not.” Captain Grafton consulted his pocket watch. “Did Mrs. Bridgewater say what time she intended to send dinner up? I’m famished.”

Francis couldn’t help but notice that his companion was lingering over the remains of the meal as if hoping it would never end. He had a shrewd suspicion as to why but was more than willing to sit and wait for her to realize she would eventually run out of options and food.

Nancy knocked on the door and came in to clear away the tray with the help of her oldest son. Her shrewd glance swept over Caroline, who was reluctantly relinquishing her plate, and settled on Francis.

“It’s started to snow. Perhaps young Jimmy should escort Mrs. Harding back home before it gets too bad.”

“There is no need.” Francis met her gaze. “I’m quite capable of doing that when I’m ready.”

Nancy’s continued championing of Caroline surprised him. She had rarely bothered to acknowledge the procession of mistresses or more casual liaisons who had clomped up and down the stairs to his bedchamber in her inn. Intrigued, he excused himself and followed her down to the kitchen where she set Jimmy to clearing the dishes.

“What do you want?” Nancy finally spared him a glance.

“A new bottle of brandy wouldn’t come amiss.” He waited until she returned from the private part of the cellar where he kept his personal stock of wines and brandy under lock and key and asked. “Why are you still so intent on protecting Mrs. Harding from me?”

“Because she deserves better than the likes of you.”

“Who doesn’t?” He paused, but she didn’t say anything else. “She’s already my mistress. You can’t prevent it from happening.”

“I am well aware of that.” She snorted. “The whole bloody town knows why you’ve got her living over the dressmakers.”

“The whole town?” Francis considered that. “I doubt the gentry and the mill owners have any idea. Her late husband’s family certainly didn’t.”

“She shouldn’t be here, Captain, and you know it,” Nancy said fiercely.

“I’m not forcing her to do anything she hasn’t agreed to. I pay her well, she and her family live in comfort, and she is a damned fine bookkeeper.”

“It’s not right,” Nancy repeated stubbornly.

“So what would you have me do?” Francis demanded. “Kick her out? Leave her at the mercy of the workhouse commission?” He leaned in closer and snarled. “Because that’s where she would be if I hadn’t intervened.”

“Or maybe that family of hers would’ve come to their senses and done the right thing?” She shook her head. “I know you. You take things and break them so easily.”

“Well thank you for that damming character reference,” Francis said. “And remind me next time to leave you where I found you—in the bloody gutter!”

She grabbed hold of his sleeve. “But don’t you see? That’s the whole point! Why her?”

“Are you jealous?” His gaze swept the kitchen. “You’re a respectable married woman with a husband who adores you and three strapping sons. Did I do ill by you?”

“No you did not, but Mrs. Harding is not like me.”

“She’s a woman, isn’t she? One who eats, drinks, fucks just like you do.”

“If you can’t see the difference between us then there is nothing I can say is there?” Nancy asked.

“Actually, you could’ve saved your breath much earlier, handed me the damn brandy, and left your thoughts about my morals and choices in your head!”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Nancy held his gaze.

“Because you know I’d never lay a damned finger on you and never have.” Francis retorted not mollified in the slightest.

“If there was a man like Mr. Bridgewater who wanted to marry Mrs. Harding, would you let her go?”

An image of Mr. Ford flashed across Francis’s memory. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular?”

“Not yet,” Nancy paused. “Why is there someone?”

“I’d hardly tell you that now would I? And, I’m not finished with Mrs. Harding. Even when she eventually bores me in bed, her bookkeeping skills will make sure she is never hungry or homeless again.”

Nancy grinned up at him.

“What now?” Francis inquired.

In answer, she stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Get along with you.”

“I’ll comply only because this conversation has been a waste of my valuable time.”

Nancy snorted and turned her back on him. After glaring at her oblivious form, Francis turned and stomped back up the stairs. She was one of the most irritating females he had ever met—possibly even worse than Caroline Harding, which was saying something. How both of them had the nerve to constantly defy him when the rest of the population cowered in fear at his every word he would never know...

He wrenched opened the door into his bedchamber just as Caroline attempted to do the same thing from the other side, and she ended up plastered against his chest.

She gasped and pushed herself away from him. “I do apologize.”

“Where do you think you are going?” Francis demanded.

“I thought you were done with me.”

“I haven’t bedded you yet, so how could you think that?”

She sighed and retreated to the fireplace. “Perhaps I was hoping a civilized conversation and dinner would satisfy you.”

“Not all my appetites.” Francis beckoned for her to come closer. “I’ve locked the door, now help me undress.”

Captain Grafton slammed the bottle of brandy he’d been carrying onto the table and raised an eyebrow.

“Come along, Mrs. Harding.”

There was a dangerous light in his eyes, which hadn’t been there earlier. Part of her yearned to slap his face, and the rest of her feared what might happen if she did. He’d probably laugh and then demonstrate to her once again how easily he could make her respond to him.

Remembering her previous total surrender, and determined not to repeat it, Caroline helped him out of his coat and unbuttoned his waistcoat, her gaze on the buttons and not straying to his face. She was obviously moving too slowly for him as he ripped off his cravat allowing the collar of his shirt to fall open.

He took her hand and pressed it against the fall of his trousers making her heart kick up. She undid the buttons, and he sat down to take off his trousers, boots and underthings, leaving him in just his long-tailed shirt. Still seated he gestured at her like a Roman emperor.

“Get rid of that horrible shawl and then take down your hair.”

“As you wish,” Caroline eased out the pins and placed them on the table beside the brandy bottle. “Shall I remove my clothing now?”

“I’ll do it.” He stood and turned her around so that she faced away from him. “Unbutton your blouse.”

He expertly loosened her corset while she stepped out of her skirt and petticoats, leaving her in her shift. He slid a hand around her neck and turned her to face him, his thumb on her jawbone.

“Kiss me.”

Caroline put one hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to kiss his unsmiling mouth. He wrapped an arm around her hips pressing her against the heat of his cock and kissed her back.

Determined to remain in control, Caroline let him proceed without struggling or attempting to restrain him—tactics, which, previously, only seemed to excite him further—and regrettably, her.

“Bed.”

She pressed a hand to his chest. “I don’t have my supplies.”

He looked down at her, a hint of impatience in his eyes. “There’s everything you need in the drawer beside my bed.”

“For your other women?” Caroline asked.

He frowned. “I don’t have any other women in Millcastle. You’re quite enough trouble as it is.”

“But you do have other women in London and other places?”

“What if I do?”

“Nothing.” She opened the drawer and performed the necessary actions to ensure that she hopefully didn’t conceive a child. Why had she even asked such a ridiculous question when she’d already known the answer?

By the time she climbed onto the bed, he had shed his shirt and lay on his side watching her like some kind of wild animal waiting to pounce. Her gaze settled on his hand playing with his cock, making the wetness gleam in the lamplight. Her own body stirred, waiting, wanting…

“Take off your shift.”

Caroline did what he asked, aware that he wasn’t smiling and unsure enough of his current mood to be wary.

“Taste me.”

She met his gaze. “What?”

He thumbed the head of his cock. “Here.”

“You can’t be serious.” Even as she said the words she couldn’t look away from the motion of his fingers and the thickening of his shaft. “Why would any woman do that unless she is paid to do it?”

“So do it. I pay you, don’t I?”

Anger threaded through her slow and reluctant arousal, and she crawled closer to him. “As you wish.”

Bending her head, she took a deep breath and set her teeth on his stiff flesh. His fingers closed around her scalp.

“Don’t you bloody dare.”

She wondered exactly how he intended to stop her and experienced an unexpected and amazing realization that despite everything, she now had the upper hand.

“Suck me, don’t bite.”

She opened her lips a little wider and took as much of his shaft as she could without choking making him curse and buck against her. Grabbing the base of his cock with one hand she slowly released him grazing her teeth down both sides of his throbbing length.

His foreskin peeled back to reveal the startling sight of the crown of his cock and the wet slit. She used the tip of her tongue to probe the salty wetness and was rewarded by another round of curses before he flipped her over onto her back and loomed over her.

“That bloody hurt.”

“Good.” She glared right back at him. “If you treat me like a whore, I’ll behave like one. You should be grateful that I didn’t bite it off!”

Francis shuddered and then eased her thighs apart and pushed himself deep. She wasn’t quite wet enough, so he rocked back and forth until he was seated within her and breathing hard.

Part of him applauded her audacity while the rest of him wanted to fuck her so hard and so often that she was the one begging. He placed her foot against his hip changing her position, widening her to his thrusts, and exposing her mound to the grind of his pelvis. He hitched himself even higher, suckling her breasts and setting his teeth on her nipple making her squirm and fight him.

That was better.

He liked being in control.

Except, her face was turned away from him as if she wanted to distance herself from his efforts—like a whore who didn’t care who was fucking her. He’d done that. He’d made her feel like she was only one of many he’d paid to fuck and leave.

“Caroline.” He held still and deep, aware that his heartbeat matched the pulse of his cock. “Look at me.”

She turned toward him, her blue eyes steady.

“Is your mind elsewhere?” Francis asked. “Shouldn’t you be focused on pleasuring me?”

“I wasn’t aware that you were suffering, Captain Grafton. What exactly would you have me do?”

“Participate?”

“I am naked in your bed, and you are inside me. How could I not be participating?”

He slid a hand between their bodies, sought out her bud, and she quivered under him.

“Come for me.”

He started moving, keeping his thumb planted squarely on the source of her pleasure, and she turned away from him, fighting him, fighting the sensations he was deliberately trying to arouse in her.

“What is it?” He punctuated each word with a new roll of his hips. “Do you not want to take your pleasure? Do you think you can withhold it from me?”

He pulled out, rearranged her legs over his bent elbows, and lowered his mouth to her mound. Now she tried to fight him as he licked and sucked her, using his tongue and teeth to drive her onward to a climax. She struggled against him, but he refused to give up until he felt the first tremor of release start within her.

He reared up over her, hooking her feet over his shoulders and fucked downward into her soaking wet and swollen sex until she screamed and came all around him. He shuddered with the power of his release, bloodying his own lip as the force of his climax powered through him.

The moment he released her, she rolled away and curled up into a ball. He waited to see if she would cry, but she made no sound. He shoved a hand through his hair and struggled to understand his need to make her take her pleasure, too. It wasn’t like him, but her stubbornness and refusal to accept what could be a truly remarkable and satisfying sexual liaison frustrated him.

He got off the bed and washed himself down before bringing the bowl and jug of water closer to the bed where Caroline still lay.

“Did I hurt you?” The question escaped him before he considered the implications.

When she heard Captain Grafton speak, Caroline wished she could just disappear into nothing. She’d tried to withstand his advances and deny her own pleasure and had only made things ten times worse. Her body was humming with delight, and yet she felt like crying. She would never do it in front of him because he’d never let her forget it.

She couldn’t let him know how he’d made her feel… she had to somehow salvage this disaster, and move on…

She rolled over to face him, glad that he’d had the decency to put his banyan on. “I am quite well, sir.” She looked at the jug of water—anywhere but directly at him. “If you will just give me a moment I’ll get dressed.”

“As you wish.” He nodded curtly and went to sit by the fire, his back to the bed.

Reaching out a hand, Caroline used the sponge and water to set herself to rights and quickly scrambled into her shift and petticoats. She started on her corset, but her fingers were shaking too hard to manage the awkward position.

“Let me do it.”

Captain Grafton came up behind her and tightened the laces.

“Thank you.”

He left her to finish dressing and put up her hair, which required several attempts because she tried to do it too fast. When she was presentable, she fixed a smile on her face and went to stand in front of him.

“I think I should go back now. My mother will be worried.”

He looked up at her, his head angled to one side. “I said I’d accompany you.”

“There is no need.”

“Mrs. Harding, humor me, please. Sit down and allow me to escort you safely home.”

She glanced at the chair behind her and grimaced. “In truth, I’d rather not sit.”

“I… apologize.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “For what?”

“For my behavior. I was a little rough with you.”

“You were certainly determined to prove a point.” She was proud of how calm she sounded. “And perhaps I was naïve to believe I could stop my body from responding to you.”

“Still—” He stirred restlessly in his seat. “I didn’t behave well.”

“When has that ever bothered you before?” she asked. “You like to win and are prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve your goals.”

He winced. “You don’t have a very good opinion of me, do you?”

“Why should I?” Caroline met his opaque gaze. It was so difficult to know what he was thinking. All she knew was that like any predator, he would leap on any show of weakness. “You have never attempted to persuade me otherwise.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he placed a finger to her lips.

“Be quiet. I am accompanying you.”

She wrapped her shawl around her and knotted it at the waist. She still felt rather strange, as if her whole body was on fire and over-sensitive. If he touched her again, she might turn to ashes. But what to do in the future? She couldn’t avoid his bed—had made a promise to him—but could she accept the pleasure she found there even when it wasn’t allied to love or marriage or a respectful partnership?

“Come on, Mrs. Harding. Let’s get you home.”

Captain Grafton held the door open, and she went past him inhaling the smell of beer, hops and whatever Nancy was cooking in the kitchen. Her legs were wobbly, and the core of her still throbbed. She suspected she would feel sore for at least another day.

She’d never realized physical intercourse could be like this. Her marriage bed had given her little joy. She’d been thrilled simply to give her husband such apparent pleasure and been mortified when he’d suggested her behavior was immodest. But Captain Grafton demanded more from her, and it was a price her body seemed eager and willing to pay. She waited for a wave of guilt to wash over her, but nothing came. Had she finally become as immoral as he was?

“Good Lord, it really is snowing.” Captain Grafton paused at the door into the stable yard at the rear of the inn. “Do you have something to cover your head?”

Caroline readjusted her shawl and stepped out into the street, catching her breath at the harshness of the bitterly cold air and swirling wind.

“Take hold of my arm.”

She was reluctant to touch him, but not stupid. Her boots needed replacing and had little grip on the ice. He smelled of lavender soap and something else she didn’t want to acknowledge, but that made her think of his face between her thighs doing unimaginable things to her.

He took a diagonal path across the town square, only pausing when a crowd of men streamed out of the recently constructed Methodist Church Hall, which stood opposite the crumbling vicarage.

Caroline recognized most of them from her old neighborhood, factory workers, farm workers and other employed men. She caught snatches of conversation about the right to vote and plans to march for the new reform act.

“Mrs. Harding!”

She stopped when her name was called and half-turned to see Jonathan Ford smiling down at her. His gaze switched to her companion, and he touched his hat. “Captain Grafton.”

“The captain is making sure I get home safely through the snow,” Caroline spoke into the silence stretching between the two men. “Did you enjoy your meeting?”

“It was most informative. I promised to tell Ruby all about it on Sunday.” He smiled. “She was most put out by the fact that she wasn’t invited to attend.”

“What was this meeting about?” Captain Grafton inquired. “Wishful thinking on one man one vote, or another attempt to appeal to the goodness of the government to repeal the Corn Laws?”

“We covered many subjects, Captain.” Jon said. “You are more than welcome to join us next time if you wish.”

“Unlikely.”

“Then you do not care that children work fourteen hour shifts in our factories, and that most working men aren’t allowed to have a say in matters that concern them?”

“I’m quite content with the way things are actually, old chap.”

Caroline bristled at his drawling tone, but Jon didn’t appear to notice, or pretended not to.

“Change is inevitable, Captain.”

“Does your employer know you’re mixed up in this business, Mr. Ford?”

“If he doesn’t, I’m fairly sure someone will grass me up sooner rather than later.” His smile was sad. “I don’t begrudge any man taking extra money to spy on his companions when wages are so low.”

“Then you are a better man than I am, Mr. Ford,” Captain Grafton replied. “If I found such disloyalty in my ranks I’d do my best to exterminate it.”

Jon nodded to Caroline and tipped his hat to her companion. “I won’t keep you out in this cold. Good night, Mrs. Harding, sir.”

Caroline started walking again, almost dragging Captain Grafton along with her. A lot of the men around them eyed her companion nervously as they hurried back to their homes. No doubt many of them were his tenants and were fearful of his reaction in seeing them out at night at a somewhat suspect meeting.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs inside Madame’s shop, Caroline swung around to confront Captain Grafton. “You won’t identify Mr. Ford to his employer will you?”

He leaned against the wall and studied her face. “Why would you think that?”

“Because your contempt for him, and the other men, was patently obvious.”

“Contempt? Perhaps.” He smiled. “But not for the reasons you might think. He’s a fool. They are all fools. If they march, the government will bring the military out and crush them like vermin.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because that’s what they do, Mrs. Harding. They are terrified of ‘the common man’. They fear losing their grip on the power and wealth they have acquired and enjoyed for so long.” He sighed. “Eventually change might happen, but I can guarantee you that there will be a lot of blood spilled along the way to achieve it.”

“But you will not speak of what and whom you saw coming out of the meeting tonight?” Caroline repeated her question.

“Why should I?” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s nothing to do with me.”

“Thank you.” Caroline smiled at him, glad for once that he was an incredibly selfish man who only cared about his own wealth and position. “Good night, Captain.”

He kissed her cold fingers and bowed over them. “Good night, Mrs. Harding.”

Chapter 8

“Thank you for inviting me here this evening, Mr. Marsham.”

Francis poured himself a glass of port, passed the decanter, and inclined his head to his host. The ladies had withdrawn from the dining room, leaving the men to drink their port and discuss matters considered unsuitable for women’s ears or limited understanding.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, Captain Grafton, but you are rarely in Millcastle.” Mr. Marsham chuckled. “My wife had begun to despair that we would ever see you at our dining table.”

Mrs. Marsham was a plump woman who seemed somewhat out of her depth with the new moneyed mill owners and rag tag remnants of the landed gentry who apparently frequented her dinner parties. She’d barely spoken a word to Francis except to eagerly present him to her oldest daughter who was far more assured in her new role.

In truth, Miss Emily Marsham was well spoken, intelligent, and as sharp as her father. It was a pity she would not inherit his mills, as she appeared far more capable than her sullen lump of an older brother. Francis had been selected as her dinner partner, probably because he was the only bachelor invited, and she had entertained him quite adequately.

The Marsham house was on the outskirts of Millcastle. A solid new construction that looked out over the countryside rather than down at the mills and the workers that paid for its construction. Everything inside the house was brand new and rather elaborate. It was nothing like the old country house Francis had grown up in filled with inherited furniture, artwork, and a library full of leather-bound volumes no one could ever remember anyone reading. He wondered if the Marsham house even had a library.

“There was a meeting in town this week at the Methodist Hall,” Mr. Clegg, the manager of the Millcastle Bank spoke up. “No doubt stirring up trouble for us.”

“Aye, so I heard,” Mr. Pilcher one of the mill owners said. “I told my workers that if I heard that they were present, I’d dock them a day’s pay.”

“How would you know if they were present then?” Francis asked, and everyone looked at him. “They are hardly likely to incriminate themselves.”

“I have my ways, Captain Grafton.” Mr. Pilcher’s smile was smug. “There are always those who are loyal to their employer and value their job rather than the mindless ranting of some out of town rabble rouser come to talk about votes for all.”

“They know they’ll lose their jobs if they are foolish enough to strike or demand higher wages,” Mr. Marsham stated. “We are all united on this.”

Francis leaned back in his chair and surveyed the table. “Excuse my ignorance, but if they all defied you and went out on strike, wouldn’t you all go bankrupt?”

“Not necessarily.” Mr. Marsham sipped his port. “There are always people desperate enough to take a job. The Irish will work for less and be grateful for it.”

“And the women usually stay because they want to feed their children.” Mr. Pilcher chuckled. “We pay them less than the men, of course, but they tend to stick at it. They are far more biddable.”

“As you said, maybe because they don’t want their children to starve,” Francis stated.

“That’s on them isn’t it?” Mr. Pilcher shrugged. “If they don’t want to work, they can go into the workhouse, earn even less, and eat gruel.”

“My goodness, gentleman.” Francis set his glass down on the table and lit a cigar adding to the fug of smoke already rising in the air. “There seems to be a distinct lack of Christian charity around this table.”

Mr. Marsham frowned. “If people want to work, we’ll pay them. If they don’t, then they are not deserving of our charity.”

“I see.” Francis refilled his glass as the decanter passed to him again. “I understand that the Methodist minister practices a different kind of charity, offering food and education to all his congregation regardless of their ability to work.”

“Teaching our workers to read and write and letting them borrow books has given a lot of them ideas above their station,” Mr. Marsham growled. “When they think they know better than us then they become dangerous.”

Francis kept his thoughts about the likelihood of most of the gentlemen’s own grandparents being able to read and write to himself. There was nothing a virtuous hardworking man liked better than to throw scorn at those who came behind him.

“And you’re a fine one to talk about charity, Captain.” Mr. Pilcher pointed his cigar at Francis. “If you were a good charitable man yourself, you’d rehouse all those thieves and beggars who rent your property in Three Coins.”

“I never said I was a charitable man.” Francis raised an eyebrow. “I merely offer your workers somewhere to live on the somewhat paltry wages you offer them. If you paid them more, I wouldn’t be in business.”

“We pay them what they are worth and what the mill owners around here consider fair.” Mr. Marsham smiled at Francis. “We all benefit, aye?”

“Indeed.” Francis finished his port.

Mr. Marsham stubbed out his cigar and rose to his feet. “We should go and join the ladies, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Francis followed the gentlemen across the hallway to the drawing room where the ladies were gathered around a tea tray. Miss Marsham came to meet him, a smile on her face.

“Would you care for some tea, Captain?”

“No thank you, I can’t abide the stuff. In fact, I will need to leave soon as I have some urgent business matters to attend to.”

Her face fell. “That is a shame. I was enjoying our conversation immensely.”

Considering the other guests, Francis wasn’t as flattered by her compliment as he might have been. An intelligent female like her was probably starved for sensible company.

“Perhaps we could meet again, Miss Marsham?” Francis suggested.

“I’ll ask my mother if that would be acceptable.” She curtsied. “Maybe the theater or something, or mayhap the county ball?”

“I don’t dance, Miss Marsham.” Francis bowed over her hand. “But please don’t let that stop you inviting me to accompany you.”

He left her and went to pay his respects to her mother and the assembled guests. Without waiting for the butler, he found his hat and coat and walked around to the stables where his horse awaited him. It was almost too cold to be out riding, but he’d endured far worse. The only reason he would consider changing to using his carriage was to protect his horses.

“Thank you.” Francis pressed a coin into the shivering stable boy’s hand and mounted up, glad of the horse’s warmth. “Get back inside, you’ll freeze to death.”

He pulled his scarf up over his face and made his way down the curving drive. The house blazed with light, turning the ice and snow in the gardens a glorious golden color. Did he resent these people who so quickly turned their backs on their pasts and on the poor? His family had owned their land for centuries and had always taken care of their tenants in a most exemplary manner. He even remembered his mother driving out to offer unwanted advice, food and handmade baby clothes to the local farmers.

Was that any better? When it came down to it, most people had to make the choice whether to succeed in life or to lie down and be walked over. He’d clawed his way back from the depths of hell in India, so he knew it could be done. But the local mill owners’ callousness about their employees still left a bitter taste in his mouth...

He turned down the hill toward Millcastle where most of the god-fearing citizens were already asleep, exhausted from their labors. There were almost no lights in Three Coins where he rented out most of his ramshackle properties. In truth, he had no right to sneer at the mill owners. He was sure Caroline and Miss Ruby Delisle considered him just as reprehensible.

“Damn them all,” Francis muttered as he rose to the trot. “Blasted women.”

“Mrs. Harding, I need you to help your mother in the shop today.” Madame Louise paused to loudly blow her nose. “I am going home before I swoon in front of one of my customers.”

“I do have some work to finish up for Captain Grafton, Madame—”

“Then bring it down with you and sit in the shop! I doubt many customers will brave the weather—what with the ice and sleet falling and this horrible cold going around.” Madame sniffed again and stifled a cough. “I would hate to have to tell Captain Grafton that you refused to oblige me.”

“As you wish, Madame. I’ll just go and get my things.”

Caroline trudged up the stairs aware that she was not feeling quite well herself. She knew that if she mentioned it, Madame wouldn’t believe her. Avoiding her employer telling tales to Captain Grafton and bringing her to his attention was far more important since she’d discovered she had no morals when he was concerned. She had hardly seen him for a couple of days, which suited her perfectly.

It was snowing outside, the flakes instantly turning to grey slush as they landed on the pebbled ground. Inadequate drainage around the square and under the older houses meant that the melting snow would soon smell as rank as the streets. Hopefully, the weather and the horrible colds everyone had contacted would keep customers away from the shop, and she could get on with her calculations in peace.

Madame returned with her hat and coat on and a rather ratty fox fur arranged around her shoulders. “There is only one appointment in the book today for the Marsham ladies, but they might not choose to keep it.”

“The Marshams?” Caroline asked. “Weren’t they just here last week?”

“Apparently Miss Marsham needs her new ball gown as quickly as possible.”

“Yet she didn’t mention it when she was here last?”

“She did, and the gown is half made up, but she wishes to see it and to have it ready within a day or so.”

Madame handed her a set of drawings.

“I see that my mother is going to be very busy.” Caroline said. “And with half the seamstresses already absent, I assume my entire family will end up finishing this gown simply because we live over the shop.”

“You are lucky that Captain Grafton has taken an interest in you, Mrs. Harding. Perhaps this is an opportunity for you to show your gratitude both to him and to me for allowing him to lease you the space.”

Madame sneezed again, her French accent deserting her as it often did during stressful moments or when customers weren’t present.

Caroline waited until Madame left, and then walked through to the workrooms where her mother was embroidering a bodice. Ruby and Ivy were also helping out in the half empty workroom.

“Did Madame tell you about this ball gown for Miss Marsham, Mother?”

Marie held up the exquisite piece of silk. “What do you think I’m doing right now?” She sighed. “I cannot go too fast in case I prick my finger and get blood on the satin.”

“You can only do your best,” Caroline reassured her. “If Miss Marsham was more considerate you wouldn’t be put in such a flutter.”

“It isn’t like her or her mother to be so demanding,” Marie pointed out. “I wonder what is going on?”

“Well, if they show up we can ask them.” Caroline smiled at her family. “Now I really must get back to work.”

An hour later, the shop bell rang and an older women entered the store. Although her clothing wasn’t particularly flashy, her demeanor suggested that she was a lady who expected to be attended to immediately.

“Good morning.” She smiled at Caroline. “I am wondering if I have the correct address for the business office of Captain Grafton?”

“You do, Ma’am. His offices occupy the upper floor. May I help you with something?”

“I really just need to speak to him if that is possible.”

“I assume you do not have an appointment?” Caroline asked.

“No, I do not.”

Caroline indicated one of the chairs. “Then if you will take a seat, I will ascertain if he is in his office and ask him if he might see you. Do you have a card?”

“Perhaps you might tell him that Mrs. Musgrove is here from the hall. That should suffice.”

Caroline curtsied, went up the stairs and knocked on Captain Grafton’s door.

“What is it?” She went in and he looked up and focused on her face. “Your nose is red.”

“That’s because I have a cold.”

“I never catch cold. I consider them a weakness.”

“You would,” Caroline smiled brightly at him. “There is a Mrs. Musgrove from the hall downstairs in the shop asking to speak to you.”

His faint smile disappeared. “Damnation.”

“Do you want me to tell her you aren’t available?”

“I’d love to, but she would be mortally offended, and she is the only person from my past life who ever stood up for me.” He set down his pen and rose to his feet. “I’ll come down. She might have news.”

Francis went down the stairs and into the front of the shop where he came to such an abrupt halt that Mrs. Harding cannoned into the back of him.

“Very clever, ‘Mrs. Musgrove’.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “It was the only way I knew of to make you speak to me.”

He bowed. “And I won’t be fooled again. Goodbye, Mother.”

“Wait!” She reached out her gloved hand to him. “Mrs. Musgrove is very ill and will not recover. She wants to see you before she dies.”

“What a load of codswallop.”

She winced but held his gaze. “It is the truth. I promised her that I would at least try to see you and ask you to come.” She fumbled in her purse. “I have a letter from Mr. Musgrove confirming her wishes.”

“Thank you.” He allowed her to place the letter in his hand. “As I said. Goodbye, Mother.”

“But will you come?”

“I hardly think that’s any of your business is it? So why don’t you run along and interfere in someone else’s life?”

She reddened. “I have no one else left, remember? You are the last of your line.”

“And thank God for that.” He marched over to the door and wrenched it open, making the bell jangle like a dancing corpse on the end of a noose. “Good morning.”

She went past him, her chin held high, her stubborn expression probably a mirror of his own as they had always been so alike. Her coachman jumped down to open the door of her carriage, and then they were off in a slow circle around the square before disappearing from sight.

Francis released his breath and swung around, all too aware that Mrs. Harding had been a silent witness to the whole encounter. She was nowhere in sight, so he went back upstairs only to discover her sitting at the desk in her own office.

She looked up as he came in. “Did you want something, Captain?”

“You’re breathing like a spent horse.” He glared at her. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t just listen to that whole thing and then run up the stairs to avoid me.”

“I can assure you that I didn’t intend to eavesdrop. The altercation caught me somewhat by surprise.”

“You’re not the only one,” Francis muttered.

Mrs. Harding rearranged the pens on her desk and didn’t look up. “Do you intend to go?”

“What business is it of yours?” Francis demanded.

“None at all.” She selected a new pen and stood, her gaze clashing with his. “I do beg your pardon. I have to return to the shop. Madame Louise has gone home.”

He leaned against the doorframe blocking her exit and read the brief note from Mr. Musgrove who was the head gardener at the hall.

“Devil take it. My mother wasn’t lying after all.” Francis reread the carefully formed words and then stuffed the letter in his pocket. “I’ll have to go, won’t I?”

Mrs. Harding was now right next to him as she attempted to get out of the door. “As you just pointed out, it is none of my business, so I doubt you expect an answer from me.”

“I’ll go tomorrow.” He couldn’t bear the thought of letting Mrs. Musgrove down. She’d been the only member of staff who hadn’t doted on his older brother. He at least owed her a last visit. How clever of his mother to realize that. “You can accompany me and make sure I behave.”

“Me?” For once Mrs. Harding looked flustered, which he somewhat enjoyed. “Why on earth would you think I have any control over your behavior?”

He reached out and poked her in the ribs. “Come on, Mrs. Harding, aren’t you burning with curiosity to see my ancestral home and meet my mother again?”

She wouldn’t look at him, which amused him greatly.

“That is hardly fair.”

“The truth rarely is.” He removed himself from her doorway. “I’ll expect you to be ready at noon.”

“I do apologize, Mrs. Harding.“ Miss Emily Marsham said for the twentieth time. “Normally I would never put everyone to so much trouble over a gown, but Mother insisted. I hate to have dragged you all out in this weather.”

“It is of no consequence.” Caroline smiled at the young woman. “Our family live above the store, Miss Marsham, so we don’t have far to travel home, and the other two seamstresses are just across the square in Three Coins.”

She circled the raised dais and noted what still needed to be completed on the ball gown. She wasn’t an artist like her mother, but she had a good grasp of the complexities of construction and pattern cutting.

“You will look beautiful in this dress. The color suits you to perfection.”

“I do hope so.” Miss Marcham winced as she removed a stray pin from her bodice and handed it back to Marie who was fitting the garment on her. “I want to look my best.”

“What is the occasion?” Caroline inquired.

Miss Marsham blushed. “There is a yuletide ball at Grovedale House, and I… have been invited to attend by a particular gentleman.”

“Ah…” Caroline and her mother exchanged smiles. “That explains a lot.”

“I doubt anything will come of it because he is so much older, and more sophisticated than I will ever be, but my father approves of him as does my mother, and that is a first.” Miss Marsham remembered to draw a breath. “He came to our house for dinner last week and acquitted himself well.”

Marie stood up and examined the set of the bodice. “And who is this beau of yours?”

“Captain Grafton?” Miss Marsham looked inquiringly at them both. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Caroline answered for her mother who had apparently been struck dumb. “We first became acquainted with him when he was our landlord in Three Coins.”

Miss Marsham stared at her. “I cannot imagine you living there.”

“We had no choice, Miss Marsham.” Caroline smiled at the young girl. “In truth, the reason we now live above the shop is because Captain Grafton offered me employment as his bookkeeper, which paid better wages.”

“That was good of him—to employ a woman, I mean.”

“Indeed.” Caroline continued to smile without an apparent care in the world while inwardly she was fuming at her twofaced employer’s gall. “He is the epitome of a gentleman.”

“Well I’d hardly call him that.” Miss Marsham smiled. “And my father approves of his business methods, which probably means he is as heartless as my father.”

“A very good observation, Miss Marsham, and one to bear in mind when you next encounter Captain Grafton,” Caroline advised. “Now if you would be so good as to stand still we can remove the gown, and then you can get dressed.”

Chapter 9

“Good morning, Mrs. Harding.”

Caroline stared up at Captain Grafton who was mounted on his horse and led a second one. She felt slightly feverish, but not enough to stop her accompanying Captain Grafton on his excursion to his family home. It was a bright clear morning of fractured sunlight and hard frost that made even the industrial buildings sparkle with crystal light.

“How do you expect me to ride?” Caroline asked. “How do you even know that I can ride?”

He raised an eyebrow. “All ladies learn to ride.”

“But I don’t have any suitable clothing.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to borrow something from the shop.” He pointed at the door. “Hurry up. I don’t want to keep the horses standing around in this weather.”

Caroline ran back inside calling for her mother. To her immense relief Marie found an old riding habit that had been brought in to be taken apart and the velvet fabric reused. Caroline put it on with some help, borrowed her mother’s green hat, and reemerged to find Captain Grafton walking the horses up and down the street, his expression one of impatience.

He came over, dismounted, and tied his horse up. He wrinkled his nose. “You smell like mothballs.”

Caroline smoothed a hand over the worn velvet. “It’s the best I can do unless you would prefer me to ride naked?”

“Like Lady Godiva?” He studied her. “I might enjoy that.”

Ignoring his lascivious leer, she placed her hand on the pommel of the sidesaddle, only to have him reach both hands around her waist and boost her up into the saddle. She scrabbled to find her balance and gather up her reins.

“I haven’t ridden for years,” she confessed. “I hope I remember what to do.”

“I’m sure it will come back to you. We’re not going far.”

She glanced across at him as he mounted up. “I didn’t realize your family seat was so close to Millcastle.”

“It’s not something I advertise. I left home at eighteen before Millcastle became an industrial center so not many people know of the connection.” He led the way along the narrow-cobbled streets toward the west side of the town. “In truth, I haven’t been there since I returned to England.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because my family chose to disown me, and I decided to repay the favor when I came back.”

“They disowned you because of your dishonorable discharge from the army in India?”

“Yes.”

“I suspect most families would have done the same thing.”

“Without even listening to an explanation of the events surrounding said dismissal?”

“You are suggesting there were extenuating circumstances attached to the event?” Caroline asked as she bent her head to avoid an overhanging branch.

“I know what happened, Mrs. Harding. That’s enough for me.” He stood up in his stirrups and looked past the smoke and grime to the green hills beyond. “As soon as we clear the town, we can increase our pace.”

Caroline held on tightly to the reins and followed the captain out of the town, and into the hedge-lined fields beyond its borders. It was so pleasant to simply breathe in air that didn’t make her cough. There was very little traffic in the narrow lanes, for which Caroline was extremely thankful. Her mare appeared to be very docile, but she knew from past experience that horses were easily spooked.

Captain Grafton rode his horse with all the ease of the landed gentry and had probably learned to ride before he could walk. She tried to imagine him lording it over everyone on a huge estate and could see it all too easily. His ancestors had risen to power at some point, and that grit and determination had enabled Captain Grafton to rise up again—if not in such a socially acceptable way.

Knowing how easy it was to fall from grace, Caroline admitted to a perverse admiration in his achievements. If she were a man she would probably have done the same thing.

“Come on, Mrs. Harding! Tally ho.”

With a sigh, she shortened her reins, jabbed her horse with her heel, and took off after Captain Grafton, praying she wouldn’t break her neck.

Eventually, he slowed down and pointed to a break in one of the high hedges. “We’ll approach the house from the back and maybe avoid my mother in the process.”

Caroline was fairly convinced that Mrs. Grafton would not be so easily shaken off, but she didn’t comment.

“Follow me closely.”

“As if I would wander off by myself,” Caroline murmured. She’d enjoyed the ride more than she had anticipated. The sense of freedom, of being above the ground, and traveling at speed was quite exhilarating.

He led her through a small copse of trees and across a broken stone wall where a gate had once stood. The ground sloped down toward a large country house built of honey colored stone. Caroline caught her breath.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I suppose it is.”

He sounded almost as surprised as she was.

“Has it been in your family for long?”

“About seven hundred years.” Captain Grafton shrugged. “It’s a hodgepodge of building styles, roof lines, and staircases going nowhere. The best thing to do would be to knock it all down and start again.”

Caroline didn’t even bother to reply to that. He was trying hard to sound nonchalant, but there was a wistful note in his voice that told a different story.

“We’ll go down to the stables, leave the horses there, and enter through the kitchen.”

Caroline followed obediently behind him as they clattered into the cobbled stable yard, and an old man came out to greet them.

“Good Lord! It’s you, sir!” His face split in a wide grin. “Welcome home, Master Francis, welcome home.”

Captain Grafton helped Caroline dismount, and then turned to shake the man’s hand.

“Mr. Potts, I’m amazed you’re still alive.” He turned to Caroline. “He put me up on my first pony and very patiently followed me around the countryside making sure I didn’t kill myself.”

“Aye, you were a wild one, sir.“ Mr. Potts chuckled. “Broke a few bones, but nothing serious.”

“Indeed. I’ve come to see Mrs. Musgrove. Is she still at the head gardener’s cottage in the grounds?”

“No, sir, she’s in the house under the care of her ladyship herself.”

“Then I suppose we should go in.” Francis offered the man another handshake. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potts.”

His smile faded as he took Caroline’s arm and marched her through another door, across a walled kitchen garden, and into the house. The slate floor was scrubbed clean. Several doors opening off the corridor showed an indoor laundry room, a second scullery, and what looked like a place to prepare cut flowers. Everything looked extremely well kept.

When Captain Grafton opened the door into the kitchen, the hum of conversation stopped abruptly, and there was the screech of chairs being pushed back. By the time Caroline squeezed past her companion the whole room was standing and staring at them.

A woman who Caroline assumed was the cook was making a great show of flapping her hand in front of her flushed face. “Oh, my goodness! I thought I’d seen a ghost!” She sank into her chair and one of the maids fussed around her.

“Good morning.” Captain Grafton inclined his head. “I’m here to see Mrs. Musgrove. Would one of you be so kind as to take me up to her?”

“I will, Captain.” The butler bowed low. “And I will inform her ladyship that you are here.”

“No need to do that.” Captain Grafton said. “I won’t be here for long.”

As if he’d conjured her with his words, his mother appeared in the doorway and smiled at him.

“Thank you so much for coming, Francis. Mrs. Musgrove will be thrilled. Mr. Robinson will take you up to her, and then you can join me, and?” She turned an inquiring eye toward Caroline who curtsied.

“Mrs. Harding, ma’am.”

“Ah, then you can join Mrs. Harding and I for tea in the small drawing room when you are finished, Francis.”

From the look on the captain’s face, Caroline wondered whether he would leave without her and fervently prayed that he would at least leave her horse. The prospect of tea with her employer’s mother was far too alluring to turn down.

She followed her hostess through a maze of corridors, a huge hall with suits of armor standing against the walls, and into a charming, low ceilinged room bathed in sunlight. The furniture looked well used, and there was a desk against the wall covered in paperwork.

“I hope you don’t mind the informality. This is my favorite room.”

Caroline glanced over at her companion. “It is lovely, ma’am—or should that be your ladyship?”

“I’m Viscountess Wesley, Or Lady Wesley if you prefer. My late husband was a viscount.”

Caroline blinked at her. “Does that mean that Captain Grafton is now a peer of the realm?”

“Seeing as he is the only one of my children still living, then yes.” Lady Wesley sat down and gestured for Caroline to do the same. “Obviously Francis has made no effort to claim the title, or take his seat in the House of Lords, but it is, indeed, his.”

“Good Lord.” Caroline murmured as she removed her gloves.

“I assume he didn’t mention it to you then?”

“No, but there is no reason why he should. We are not on such intimate terms.” She raised her gaze to meet Lady Wesley’s and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Your son employs me as his bookkeeper.”

“I find that quite hard to believe.” The haughty challenge in Lady Wesley’s hazel eyes reminded Caroline all too forcibly of her son’s. “You are obviously a lady.”

“A lady who has fallen on hard times and has a family to support. My mother works in the dressmakers you visited in Millcastle, as do other members of my family. We live over the shop.”

“What of your family? I cannot believe that a young woman such as yourself was unable to find shelter with your relatives.”

“My father died in India. I do not have any family to speak of.” Caroline refused to be bullied. “My late husband’s family, who live in Millcastle, refused to accept my mother and sisters into their home, saying they could not afford to house us all.”

“How very ungenerous of them.”

“Indeed.” Caroline smiled. “On that, at least, we can agree. I started dealing with the books for the owner of the dressmakers and came to Captain Grafton’s attention when he needed someone reliable to help with his own business interests.”

Lady Wesley shuddered. “I hear about his ‘businesses’. They are hardly befitting a man of his rank.”

“A rank he chooses not to claim, which I suppose leaves him free to pursue whatever career he wants,” Caroline pointed out.

“A gentleman has a duty to his family and his past,” Lady Wesley stated. “Francis needs to remember that.”

A maid came in with a tray of tea and cakes and set it on the table beside Lady Wesley.

“Thank you, Jess.” Lady Wesley held up the pot. “Would you like some tea? We might as well have it now before it goes cold. Francis might be a while.”

Caroline settled herself in the chair and devoutly hoped that her unpredictable employer would make an appearance soon sparing her from any further questions from his rather formidable mother.

Francis took his time walking down from Mrs. Musgrove’s bedchamber where he’d received a welcome that had almost brought tears to his eyes. He hadn’t actually cried, of course, he never did, but seeing his old friend so wasted by disease, and being unable to do anything to make things better for her hadn’t sat well with him. She’d held his hand, the strength in her fingers so light he could barely feel it, and spoken to him about love, and duty, and many things he had tried to forget, or ignore.

He’d listened, though, and not contradicted her. She deserved that much. He remembered running into her kitchen with his older brother and being given whatever miracle had just emerged from her oven, of being happy, of feeling loved.

There was that damn word again. Why hadn’t he listened to his worse instincts and refused to come back to this house, which held so many happy memories for him? He hadn’t set foot in it since he’d left for his military service in India, so proud in his stiff new uniform, so willing to uphold the values of his beloved country and die for it if necessary.

Well, he’d come pretty bloody close to dying, and that was due to the staggering incompetence and mismanagement of the British army command. And when he’d objected to their draconian tactics, he’d been the one singled out for punishment and a quick and dishonorable discharge from his duties.

Hearing voices, he paused in the corridor just before he reached the door into his mother’s private sitting room. From what he could decipher, Mrs. Harding was holding her own against his mother, which didn’t surprise him in the least. He tapped on the door, which was ajar, and went in.

“Ah, there you are, Mrs. Harding.” He smiled at her, ignoring his mother. “We will need to be getting back fairly shortly.”

His mother rose and came toward him, putting her hand on his arm. “Please have some tea, Francis. At least give me that.”

He moved away from her touch and pulled out a chair. “If you insist.”

“If you had bothered to read any of the letters I’ve sent you, this confrontation and conversation wouldn’t even be necessary.” She poured some tea and passed him the cup. “You might not choose to undertake your responsibilities to this estate, your title, and your tenants, but there are matters that need to be discussed for the future.”

“I fail to see any signs of a calamity.” He sipped his tea. “The place isn’t falling down, and you appear to be in excellent health.”

“And you expect me to stay here and manage everything for you forever?”

He shrugged. “You’ve always managed everything. My father and brother were too busy hunting, shooting and fishing to attend to the business of the estate.”

“That isn’t quite true.”

“I’ll allow that my father showed a peripheral interest in the place—mainly to ensure he had the finances available to pursue his real interests—but my brother wasn’t involved at all.”

“How would you know? You went to India and never returned.” His mother raised her chin, her gaze fixed on his.

“Charles wrote to me regularly.” He raised his eyebrows at his mother’s shocked expression. “Didn’t you know that? He told me exactly how things stood here, the arguments about his gambling, his womanizing, and his debts. He thought it all a huge joke until it wasn’t, and he was shot dead in a stupid, pointless, duel over a worthless, married woman.”

Mrs. Harding cleared her throat. “Captain Grafton…”

“Yes?” he turned to find her biting her lip.

“Perhaps we should go. The weather is definitely worsening.”

His mother stood and faced him. “Regardless of what happened in the past, Francis, and who is to blame, you are still the owner and lord of this estate, and other properties. One day I will die, and it will all be on you.”

He bowed. “Then let’s hope you live a very long and very happy life, Mother. Please send me word on Mrs. Musgrove. Good day to you.”

Caroline picked up her skirts and followed Captain Grafton back to the stables. There was no sign of Mr. Potts, but the horses were saddled and ready to go.

“Why were you so horrible to your mother?” Caroline asked, as she made sure the pins in her hat were secure.

“Horrible?” He looked down his nose at her. “She bloody deserved it.
She spoiled and ruined my brother, she neglected me, and sacrificed us both to her damned twin gods of family and respectability.”

“She simply attempted to converse with you and work out what will happen to your family estate and title.”

“She never ‘simply’ does anything. She got me here to see Mrs. Musgrove, not for some sentimental reason, but because she wanted to force me to come here and deal with her on her terms.”

“It is your family home.”

“I don’t give a damn about this bloody place.” He swung around on Caroline so quickly that she took an involuntary step backward. “I’d burn it to the ground if I could.”

“I don’t believe you.” she met his furious gaze. “The fact that you are so angry indicates that you do care.”

“And when did you decide you had the right to determine what I’m thinking?” he snapped. “We share a bed, Mrs. Harding, we fuck. That’s hardly a bond of love or matrimony.”

Caroline glared right back at him. “The fact that you think you can just throw all of this away?” She flung out her hands. “That it means nothing to you when for the vast majority of the population this place would be considered paradise! Your conceit is unbelievable.”

She put her gloves on over her shaking hands. “If I could live here, have this life back, I would go down on my knees and pray every night to God in thanks.”

“And we both know how pretty you look down on your knees,” he sneered.

Before she even realized she meant to do it she slapped his face, so hard his head snapped back. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers hard and unyielding.

“Get on your damned horse, Mrs. Harding, before l give into temptation, and leave without you.”

She wrenched her wrist free, marched over to the mounting block and managed to get up by herself.

He rammed his hat down on his head and set off much too fast. Caroline had no intention of chasing him down. She’d keep him in her sights, and if the worst came to the worst and she lost him, she was fairly certain she would eventually find her way back to Millcastle.

Chapter 10

Caroline coughed into her handkerchief and blew her nose for what felt like the thousandth time that day. The sleet had settled and hardened into dirty grey ice that made the streets treacherous, and it had started to snow again. She peered at her calculations and reluctantly decided that she would have to light the lantern even though it was still afternoon.

She’d seen no sign of Captain Grafton for almost two days, which suited her perfectly well. He hadn’t spoken to her on the journey back to Millcastle and had ridden off without a word after she’d dismounted at the dressmakers. He hadn’t visited her bed either, which was perfectly fine with her. The quietness of his office was most peculiar. He left her notes on her desk, but other than that left her alone.

She felt her hot forehead. If there was nothing else required of her, she might go to bed early. She didn’t feel well at all, and that wasn’t helping her nagging worry that Captain Grafton might not only have lost interest in bedding her, but in employing her. Could she go back to working for Madame? She’d miss the challenges of her work for Captain Grafton, and if she were honest with herself, she’d miss him too.

He was the first man who had ever challenged her, and in his own particular way, appreciated her strengths and intelligence. He didn’t treat her like a fragile object to be placed gently on a shelf. He enraged her, he made her reveal and revel in parts of her own physicality she had never experienced before. She didn’t like him, but he was a worthy foe.

Caroline closed the accounts book and locked it in her desk before walking across to Captain Grafton’s office where his desk was still bare. Had he left for London without telling her? She’d heard that the main roads south were impassable, but that wouldn’t stop her employer. He’d stayed in Millcastle for almost two months now, which was not his usual pattern.

She went down the stairs to speak to her sister, as her mother was already sick and in bed, only to discover that the shop was about to close early. Madame Louise called out to her.

“Ah, there you are, Mrs. Harding. I was just about to come upstairs and get you. There is no point staying open in this weather. Half my staff is sick, and no one with any sense is out and about in this wind. Please lock the front door and turn off the lights before you return upstairs.”

“Yes, Madame.” Caroline stifled a cough as she let Madame out and locked the door behind her. She went out to the workrooms to make sure that everyone, including Ivy had left, and then returned to the front of the store to set the sign on the door to Closed.

Even as she approached the glass-fronted door, there was a disturbance outside as a carriage drew up, and a woman tumbled out.

“Mrs. Harding!” Miss Emily Marsham knocked on the glass. “Please let me in!”

Concealing a sigh, Caroline unlocked the door, and let her unexpected visitor come inside.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Miss Marsham gasped. “There has been a terrible calamity with my ball gown for this evening.”

“What exactly has happened to it?” Caroline inquired.

“One of my little dogs caught hold of the hem and ripped out the stitching and unraveled everything.”

“So the gown just needs to be re-hemmed.” Caroline hesitated. “Forgive me, but is there not someone within your household who could manage such a task?”

“Almost everyone is sick, and no one can sew a seam as well as you and your mother can.”

“Did you bring the gown with you?”

Miss Marsham’s face fell. “Oh no, that never occurred to me. I was praying your mother might come out and fix it for me.”

“My mother is too ill to leave the house.”

“Then—could you do it?” Miss Marsham raised her hopeful gaze to meet Caroline’s. “I am more than willing to pay for your time, and I would be so grateful to you.” She hesitated. “My father will be so angry if I am not suitably turned out for this ball at Grovedale House, and he will make my mother cry, and feel inadequate, and—”

“I will come with you.” Caroline put her hand on Miss Marsham’s arm. She’d noticed the fear in Mrs. Marsham’s eyes, and the faint bruises on her body during her dress fittings. “I’ll just get my cloak.”

Three hours later, Caroline sat back and surveyed her work. The hem was now repaired, as were the small rents in the fabric from the pug dog’s teeth. She doubted anyone would notice that the gown was less than half an inch shorter all around. She stood, and immediately had to grab onto one of the chairs to steady herself against a desire to faint.

Blinking hard she surveyed Emily Marsham’s bedroom, and the anxious face of the girl herself, and forced a smile.

“Perhaps you might turn around for me so that I can see if there is anything I have missed.”

Miss Emily obligingly spun in a slow circle, her hands clasped at her waist. “I think it’s perfect. Thank you so much!”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Marsham.”

A tap on the door revealed one of the maids. “Mrs. Marsham requests your presence in the drawing room. Your guests are here.”

Miss Emily gasped and twirled around again while her maid attempted to hand her her gloves and fan and make sure her hair pins were secured amongst a riot of ringlets.

She turned to Caroline and pressed a bank note in her hand. “Thank you again.”

A moment later she was gone in a trail of perfume leaving her maid and Caroline to deal with the mess. It took Caroline a while to gather her supplies and put everything away because she frequently had to stop to cough and sneeze in a most annoying manner. She was hungry, her head hurt, and she had a fever. The only thing she wanted was to go home and rest in her bed.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Prudence, Miss Emily’s maid who had provided invaluable assistance to Caroline, curtsied to her. “I’ll take you down to the kitchen to collect your things.”

Caroline picked up her sewing basket and followed the maid out onto the landing that overlooked the hall below. She paused for a second to look down and received the most unwelcome jolt in her stomach as Captain Grafton looked right back at her. The Marsham family surrounded him as he tenderly placed Miss Emily’s cloak around her shoulders.

He looked perfectly at home in his immaculate evening clothes and nothing like the man who sometimes visited her bed.

“This way, Mrs. Harding.”

Prudence held the door to the servants’ stairs open. Caroline stepped back, and meekly followed the maid down to the kitchen. She’d known Captain Grafton was escorting Miss Emily Marsham to the ball, but seeing him there in such company, dressed impeccably and fitting in so easily made her chest hurt. Was it because he was accepted in both worlds and she was not? Was she jealous?

In the kitchen, Prudence introduced her to the cook who offered her a cup of tea, and a large slice of fruitcake, which Caroline gratefully accepted. When she’d finished eating, she put on her cloak and old boots, and made her way to the stables. To her surprise the place was quiet, and it took her a while to find even one of the stable lads.

“I need to get home,” Caroline smiled at the boy. “Miss Emily Marsham told me to ask the coachman to take me.”

“Can’t do that, Miss.” The boy said. “Mr. Coachmen, the carriage and the horses have all gone out to Grovedale House.”

Caroline stared at him, her mind in a whirl. How could she have been so stupid? She glanced out into the darkness. At least it wasn’t snowing. “Then I suppose I will have to walk.”

The boy nodded and offered her a cheery good night before disappearing into the warmth of the stable block. Caroline wrapped her shawl over her head, tied the ends around her waist, and buttoned her coat up. She was so overheated that the thought of walking through the snow was almost appealing. She reckoned it was less than two miles back to the center of Millcastle, and that she would be safely home by midnight.

She placed her sewing basket in the crook of her elbow and turned toward the drive ignoring the slice of wind battering her face. The sooner she started, the sooner she would get home.

“And my pug was playing, and pulled a thread on my new dress, and the whole hem came down!” Miss Emily Marsham gestured at the bottom of her pink satin gown. “If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Mrs. Harding, I would’ve had to appear at the ball in rags!”

“I thought I saw Mrs. Harding in your house,” Francis said as he expertly located a table for his dance partner and held out her chair. It was suppertime at the ball and seating was already scarce. “I did wonder what she was doing there.”

“She was being a saint and fixing my gown for me. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank her enough.”

“I thought Mrs. Delisle was the dressmaker in the family, and that Mrs. Harding worked for me.”

“I understand that Mrs. Delisle was unwell.” Miss Marsham looked conscience-stricken. “Mrs. Harding was coughing and trying to pretend that she wasn’t. I do hope she returned home safely.”

Francis pictured that brief surprised moment when he’d seen Mrs. Harding above the gathering in the hall. She’d looked exhausted. If she were sick, what had possessed her to rush out to the Marshams simply to fix a hem? He would never understand her—not that he particularly wanted to—seeing as she obviously considered him a fool.

Her scathing comments about his disregard for his inherited privilege had hit him harder than he anticipated, and he’d reacted accordingly. But that was Caroline Harding all over. She made him behave in ways that were unacceptable to him. He smiled automatically as Emily Marsham chatted away and nodded whenever she drew breath.

He should go back to London. Millcastle was a depressing place, and not one he wished to deal with for much longer. As soon as the weather cleared up, he would be off. He glanced at his bright-faced companion. If he weren’t careful, he’d be stirring up hopes in the Marsham family of a romance between him and this chit who was terribly nice, but half his age. Even a few hours spent in what constituted as polite society in this godforsaken mill town reminded him why he hated it.

“Captain Grafton?”

“Yes?”

Miss Emily sighed. “I apologize if I am boring you. Would you prefer to talk about your business interests? My father suggested they weren’t very savory, and that I should avoid the topic and focus instead on the more trivial aspects of life.”

“Your father is correct. My business interests are indeed not a fit topic of conversation for a lady.” Apart from with Mrs. Harding, but she was an anomaly in his life. “And, it is I who should be apologizing for boring you.” It was his turn to be honest. “In truth, I find such occasions rather insipid.”

“Oh,” she studied him, her mouth slightly open. “Whereas to me they are everything. You have a house and business interests in London as well, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“I have never been to London, but I can imagine that society here is indeed ‘insipid’ compared to there.” She smiled at him.

“It is even worse in London where everyone contrives to waste as much money as they can to impress others and indulge in everything that is forbidden or distasteful simply because they can. I wouldn’t wish to see you exposed to such hypocrisy and greed, Miss Marsham.”

“Well, I’d at least like to see it for myself. My father thinks that I need to be married first before I am allowed a visit.”

“Your father has a point. You are one of his heirs, I assume?”

“I suppose I am,” she said doubtfully. “It is not something that is discussed.”

“Then if you went to London you would be considered a ‘catch’, and all the disreputable men would be after you for your money.”

“That’s rather unappealing.” She paused. “Don’t you think that some of them might like me for myself?”

Francis tried to remember what it was like to be so young and naïve about the world. “Of course, they would like you—how could they not?”

Her smile was sweet. “Thank you for that, at least.” She glanced past him to the window. “It really is snowing quite hard now. I wonder if our host has noticed? Perhaps it might be better if we all started for home before he has to find beds for us all.”

Francis made sure that Miss Marsham was properly bundled up in her cloak and fur hat before handing her up into his carriage along with her brother who was acting as her chaperone for the short ride home. The snow was coming down faster now, and the winds were making it swirl around like a spinning top.

He paused to speak to his coachmen. “Take your time, Ned. I don’t want to harm the horses.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He got in, and closed the door, smiling at his companions. “Don’t worry, Miss Marsham. We’ll get you home safely.”

The carriage rocked back and forth as the driver turned the horses and set off toward the Marsham property which was less than two miles from Grovedale House. Francis turned his attention to the state of the roads rubbing the window glass free of condensation with his gloved fingers so that he could see out.

After a mile or so, a flash of blue caught his attention on the side of the road and he peered into the darkness. Was someone walking in this weather? Before he could decide the carriage took another turn, and he lost sight of the figure. When they arrived at the Marshams house, he helped the other occupants out and bowed over Miss Marsham’s hand.

“It has been a pleasure, Miss Emily.”

She gazed up at him. “Will you not come in and at least have a warm drink before you venture forth again?”

“That is very kind of you,” Francis said. “But I’d rather not keep the horses or my coachman standing around in this weather.”

“As you wish.” She summoned a bright smile and curtsied. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Captain Grafton, and I hope to see you again soon.”

He waited until she and her brother entered the house, and then walked around to the stables where he’d directed his coachman to meet him.

“I’ve checked the horses and they are in fine fettle, Captain.” Ned called out as he approached. “We can set off when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” Francis beckoned to the stable lad who was loitering nearby. “Has Mrs. Harding left the house yet, or does she require a ride back to town?”

“Who’s Mrs. Harding?”

“The dressmaker who was here earlier?”

“Oh, she went.” The boy gestured out into the darkness. “She asked me to find someone to take her home, but there was nobody here so she decided to walk.”

“And you let her?” Francis took a threatening step closer to the boy. “Have you seen the weather?”

“Nothing to do with me, sir.” The boy held up his hands. “It wasn’t like this when she left, which was hours ago. She was probably safely home before it even started to snow.”

Francis gave the boy a scathing look and walked around to Ned who was mounted on his box.

“Keep an eye out for Mrs. Harding on our way back to town, won’t you?”

“Mrs. Harding?” Ned frowned. “Yes, Captain.”

The return journey felt even slower. They passed the Marsham carriage turning into the drive but saw no one else. As time ticked by, Francis drew down the window, ignoring the freezing slap of the air so that he could see more clearly. They reached a crossroads where the major road went directly into Millcastle and turned right onto it.

“Wait!” Francis shouted and wrenched open the carriage door, almost falling as his feet slipped on the ice. He wasn’t wearing boots, and his leather shoes were instantly soaked through to his stockings.

He scrambled up a snowdrift gathered around the trunk of a tree where a square of blue stood out against the whiteness and dug through the shallow snow until he discovered the still figure of Mrs. Harding. Her eyes were closed, but the heat emanating from her skin meant she wasn’t yet dead.

He lifted her into his arms and turned back toward the carriage where Ned was approaching him with a blanket.

“Bloody hell, Captain! Not sure how you spotted her!”

“Neither am I,” Francis said grimly as he wrapped her in the blanket and stepped up awkwardly into the carriage. “Take me back to town, and if you can increase the pace without overturning us, then please do so.”

As he settled back against the seat, Mrs. Harding opened her eyes and stared blankly up at him.

“What on earth?” she whispered, her voice a thread.

“I found you buried in the snow, you stupid fool,” he snapped. “What maggot got into your head to make you attempt to walk home in this weather?”

She gave a convulsive shudder and turned her face away from him, her whole body suddenly a dead weight.

“Caroline?”

Francis checked that she was still breathing and then sat and held her until his own heart settled down and he stopped thinking about how he might have missed her altogether.

On arrival at the inn, Ned helped him bring her inside. Nancy looked up as he came through the busy kitchen.

“What have you got there, luv? Not a bloody corpse I hope.”

“Quite close to one.” Francis headed for the stairs. “Bring up some hot water and some of my best brandy will you?”

He climbed the steep stairs grumbling aloud about Mrs. Harding’s unexpected weight and laid her carefully on his bed. By the time Nancy arrived, he had already started taking her out of her wet clothes.

“Where did you find her?” Nancy set the sodden boots by the fire.

“In a snow drift.”

“Why was she out in this weather?”

“Because the fool went to the Marshams to fix Miss Marsham’s bloody dress and apparently decided to walk home afterward.” Francis glared down at his bookkeeper’s oblivious face. “I don’t suppose it occurred to her to wait until the carriage returned to take her home?”

Nancy placed her hand on Mrs. Harding’s forehead. “She’s burning up. Do you want me to fetch a doctor?”

“Let’s see how she is in a little while.” Francis threw her damp shift on top of the growing pile on the floor. “Can you lend her a nightgown and let her family know that she is safe and being taken care of?”

Nancy gathered up the clothes. “Do you want one of her sisters to come and tend to her?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Nancy raised her eyebrows. “You?”

“How difficult can it be?” He shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d tended to the sick and the dying. “I’ve got some work to do. I can sit here by the fire and keep an eye on her.”

“As you wish, but you know where I am if you get bored.” She nodded. “I’ll get this lot washed before tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

Francis shut the door, stripped off his best coat and embroidered waistcoat and hung them in the cupboard. He didn’t bother with a valet. Nancy kept his clothes laundered and fresh for him when he was in Millcastle. After setting his ruined shoes outside the door to be attended to, he padded across the floor to look down on Caroline.

Her breathing sounded like the rasp of a saw, her nose was red, and her cheeks chapped. He felt her hands, which were cold, and her forehead, which was boiling hot. He remembered Miss Emily suggesting that Mrs. Harding might have had a cough when she arrived at the house. After exposing herself to the elements, she would be lucky if it didn’t develop into something far more serious.

“Stupid woman,” he muttered. “Too independent and proud for her own good.”

In truth, she was just like him. He wouldn’t have tamely waited for a ride either but would’ve struck out on his own. There was a knock on the door, and Nancy returned with a clean nightgown and some laudanum. After helping Caroline into the garment, they tucked her up in bed with a single sheet over her body.

“I had a reply from Ruby Delisle,” Nancy said. “Her mother is too sick to get out of bed, and so is Ivy. Ruby’s taking care of them and sends her thanks that we can look after Mrs. Harding.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make sure Ruby’s all right tomorrow,” Nancy said as she plumped up the remaining pillows. “She’s a good girl that one.”

“She’s certainly as feisty as her sister,” Francis grumbled.

“Get along with you.” Nancy grinned at him. “You like the feisty ones.”

After Nancy left, Francis poured himself a large glass of brandy and settled down by the fire to read the proposal Mr. Fletcher from the locomotive company had sent him. The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven times, and Mrs. Harding moved restlessly around on the bed.

Francis got up and went to her side. Her eyes were still closed, but she was muttering frantically.

“I… have to get up and go to work… need the rent… need food, I can’t—”

“It’s all right, Caroline. You’re quite safe here.” Francis sat on the side of the bed and took her hand. “Just sleep. Everything can be sorted out tomorrow.”

“I can’t… let everyone down. They need me—”

He squeezed her fingers. “You aren’t letting anyone down. Your family is well, and all you have to do is go to sleep. That’s an order.”

She lapsed back into silence, and he returned to his task, his mind still too alert to imagine sleeping. To his disquiet, his patient’s breathing worsened, and she started to babble half sentences full of her fears and worries that broke his heart, and nothing would soothe her.

By two in the morning, he was sufficiently concerned to come down to the kitchen, wake one of the stable boys, and send him running for the doctor. Seeing as the man rented his premises from Francis, he knew he would come out.

Hearing voices and a door closing, Caroline managed to open her eyes, and slowly turned her head toward the sounds.

“So, you’re finally awake, are you?”

She blinked as Captain Grafton scowled back at her. He looked quite unkempt with his rolled up shirtsleeves and unshaven chin. He came over, and she shrank back against the pillows, but he did nothing more threatening than offer her a glass of water. She licked her dry lips and attempted to sit up.

“You’re as weak as a kitten.” He slid an arm around her waist and hoisted her up against the headboard. “I’ll hold the glass and you just sip slowly.”

She did as he suggested and sighed with pleasure as the water trickled down her parched throat.

“What happened?” she whispered.

He set the glass down and sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t you remember?”

She shook her head. It hurt to talk.

“You decided to walk home from the Marshams and ended up buried in a snow drift.”

“Oh.” Caroline frowned and tried to recall when everything had started to go wrong. “Yes.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you stay in the house until the Marshams returned and were able to give you a ride home?”

“I didn’t wish to put them out.”

“And why, for God’s sake did you even indulge that child by going out there in the first place? Can’t she sew her own damned hem?”

Caroline winced at his loudness. There was no point in defending herself. She was country born and knew better than to wander around in the snow. Her decision to leave the house had more to do with seeing Captain Grafton with Miss Emily together than in common sense. She had no recollection of most of the walk because she’d been so hot and dizzy. By the time she’d decided to turn back, she’d already lost her bearings.

“Please don’t shout,” she managed. “I know—”

“Were you too proud to ask for help?” he asked. “Did you think it beneath you?”

To her horror, she felt a tear slide down her cheek, swiftly followed by another one, and then another.

“Oh, dear God. Now you’re crying.” He handed her a large handkerchief and walked away from the bed. “Typical!”

Caroline pressed her lips together, but the tears continued to fall. With a curse, Captain Grafton walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. She wiped her tears with the handkerchief that smelled just like its owner, eased back the covers, and attempted to put her feet on the floor.

“Where the devil are you going now?” He came back in carrying a tray.

“I thought I should go home.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” He set the tray down beside the bed with a crash. “Get back in before I do it for you.”

“You’re being a horrible bully.”

“I know.” He obviously decided she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking and dumped her back in bed. “Sit up and have your soup.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and instead he fed her a spoonful of soup and continued to do so until the whole bowl was empty.

“Well that’s a vast improvement.” He dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Up until today it’s been rather like feeding a slobbering baby.”

With all the liquids going down her throat her voice was slightly stronger. “You’ve been… taking care of me?”

“Who else?” He placed the spoon in the bowl and helped himself to a pork pie and a pile of roast potatoes. “Everyone else in this whole damn town is sick.”

“Is my mother all right? My sisters?”

“Mrs. Bridgewater has been keeping an eye on them, and everyone is on the mend.” He drank some ale. “That’s why I didn’t take you home.”

“You found me, didn’t you?” Caroline said slowly.

“You remember that?” He eyed her over his pint of ale. “I was damn lucky.”

“I remember walking and feeling more and more ill, and then the snow came, and I sat down beside a tree to get my bearings. I don’t remember much after that apart from you shouting at me in your carriage.”

“I shout at you a lot, don’t I?” His faint smile returned. “Not that you don’t deserve it. What a stupid thing to do.”

“It was not my finest moment,” she conceded. “But I felt so dreadful I just wanted to get home.”

“Understandable.” He sipped his ale, his gaze withdrawn. “When we were under siege at the fort with no food or bullets left, I thought I was going to die. In my fever all I could think about was Wesley Hall, and my mother and father smiling down at me. Stupid, eh?”

“Under siege?” Caroline asked.

“One of those minor uprisings against the British that never made the newspapers in England because it wouldn’t be good for morale. We were eventually relieved, and all six of us who were left standing marched out under our very tattered flag.” He grimaced. “That’s when the real trouble started. The relieving commanding officer decided he wanted to ‘make an example of the town’ and raze it to the ground. I objected and kept objecting until they arrested me and carted me off to Delhi to face a military court.”

He smiled at her. “I went from the hero of the hour to the villain, and so I have remained.”

Caroline held his gaze. “I think you did the right thing.”

He got up from the bed and picked up the tray. “I’ll just take this down to the kitchen. Mrs. Bridgewater will be delighted to see that you’ve eaten something.”

He was almost at the door before she managed to speak. “Captain Grafton?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Hardly that, my dear. Just a lucky chance.”

He nodded and left her alone to her thoughts, which were far more complicated than she wanted them to be. If he was telling the truth about his past, and she had no reason to doubt that he was, he’d actually tried to stop an unnecessary massacre and had suffered the consequences.

He’d also saved her life, whether he laid claim to it or not, and looked after her when she was sick. Tears threatened again, but this time she held them back. She had no concerned father or husband to look for her. If he hadn’t found her, no one would have noticed she wasn’t safely home until it was too late…

She remembered how thick the snow had become, how quickly it had piled up around her when she sank down to rest beside the tree She could still be there now—a frozen corpse awaiting discovery in the thaw. But there had been peace there, too—a sense that death wouldn’t be cruel, but that life needed to be enjoyed to its fullest.

Whatever happened between her and the captain, she would never forget what he had done—especially when he was trying her patience.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of Nancy Bridgewater who smiled at Caroline as she came across the room.

“You’re looking much improved!” she chuckled. “There were a couple of nights when we weren’t sure you’d survive. Captain Grafton insisted that you were too stubborn to die, and that he’d bet on you all the way. It seems as if he was right.”

“Thank you for caring for me.” Caroline returned the smile.

“Oh, I did very little, dearie. His lordship got on his high horse and insisted he was going to do everything himself. He was the one who worked out that you weren’t at the Marshams and told my Ned to drive really slowly in case he saw you along the way back. And thank the good lord he did. The captain even got the doctor in and paid his bill without a whimper.”

“The doctor?” Caroline mentally calculated how much she owed Captain Grafton now. “Was I really that ill?”

“Indeed, you were.”

“What day is it?” Caroline asked.

“It’s Sunday.”

“So I’ve been here for over a week?”

“I believe so,” Nancy opened the curtains. “Now would you like something else to eat before I start my cooking?”

Chapter 11

Caroline cleared her throat, and Captain Grafton raised his head. It was very late in the evening and both of them were still at their desks. She’d been back at work for almost a week now, and was feeling much improved.

“Yes, Mrs. Harding?”

She lingered by the door, her sudden shyness with him as unexpected as it was unnerving.

“I just wanted you to know that I have almost made up the time I lost on your books when I was unwell.”

“I would expect nothing less of you.”

“And if you wish to take the money you spent on bringing a doctor to see me out of my wages I would quite understand.”

He put down his pen. “Why are you being so pleasant to me?”

“Perhaps because I am grateful for your care?” Caroline offered.

“I don’t need your gratitude.” He looked down at his desk and shuffled his papers.

“Whether you accept it or not, it is still yours.” Caroline pointed out. “It was very kind of you—”

“Stop.” He pushed back his chair and came toward her. “If I’d known you were going to keep up this ridiculous fawning I would’ve left you in the snow.”

“You would not have done that.” She met his glare. “Just because you did something nice for someone once doesn’t mean that your horrible reputation is at risk. I don’t intend to tell anyone that you actually have a kind heart under your unpleasant exterior.”

“I don’t have a kind heart. I’m a deeply selfish man who simply does not relish the impossible task of finding another bookkeeper who also warms my bed!”

Caroline took a quick breath. “Then perhaps I can show you my gratitude in a more physical way.”

He went still, one eyebrow raised. “On your knees, perhaps?”

“If that is what you want.” She held his gaze. “Shall I await you in my bedchamber?”

He nodded, and she went back across the hall, made sure her office was secure, and then into her bedroom locking the exterior door behind her. For the first time, her fingers were steady as she undressed, her thoughts on how it would feel to kneel at his feet and offer him pleasure. Almost dying in the snow had made her think about enjoying the moments more. Denying that she liked him touching her was no longer an option. She would no longer be ashamed of how she felt.

By the time he arrived, she was down to her shift and the stockings he had bought her and left in her drawer. He studied her as he locked the door and came to stand by the bed.

“Take your shift off, leave the silk stockings.”

Holding his gaze, she stripped off her shift and went toward him, her nipples hardening as he stared at them. She dropped to her knees and started on the fastening of his trousers while he unpinned her hair. His cock was already hard, and it kicked against the constraints of his shirt. Leaning in she inhaled the salt sharp smell of his need and licked the bead of liquid already emerging from the crown.

His hand tightened in her hair, but he made no move to dictate her movements, allowing her to push down his trousers and weigh his balls in the palm of one hand as she caressed his shaft with the other. The taste of him, the taste of life intrigued her, made her remember how fleeting pleasure was, and how quickly it disappeared. If he grew tired of her—when he did—she would have these memories of taking him, giving him pleasure, and thanking him to keep with her forever.

“Caroline…” he said hoarsely.

“Mmm.” She swirled her tongue over his crown as it emerged from its covering, enjoying the slickness against her lips and the throb of his need as she sucked him in. She took more, making him groan, her fingers working the rest of his length while she gradually sank down on him and sucked hard in a regular rhythm that made him curse and grow even bigger.

She wished she could take him all, but had no idea how to manage it, contenting herself by using her mouth and hands until he rocked back against her, his fingernails digging into her skull with every roll of his hips.

“Enough.”

At first she resisted his efforts to stop her, but he was stronger than she was. He picked her up and set her on the side of the bed, her back to his front, her stockinged thighs spread wide as he stood behind her. Angling her slightly forward he slid into her from behind, making her gasp, and brought his arm around her hips, anchoring himself deep inside her.

He caught his breath as she wriggled against him, and he spread his fingers across her mound. He slicked through her need until he found her bud and played with it until it swelled and throbbed under the callous pad of his finger.

He nuzzled her ear. “Come for me.”

She gasped his name and did what he commanded, her body clenching around his cock until he thought he’d have to come with her or die. He detached her clinging fingers from the bedcover and brought her hand to her sex.

“Touch yourself.”

“I can’t—”

“You must.” He pressed her fingers against her bud. “Here, play with this show me what you might do when I’m not here to fuck you. Show me what you learned to do when that useless husband of yours denied you pleasure.”

“I didn’t—”

Her breathy moan almost undid him as she gently touched herself. He watched over her shoulder leaning her back against him altering the angle of his cock inside her just so he could see more clearly. While she played, he pinched and rubbed her nipples until she was writhing against him and coming again.

With a growl, he withdrew his cock, climbed up onto the bed, turned her onto her back and sheathed himself once more making her scream and buck. He ground himself against her and she kept coming, each wave more intense than the last until he could no longer stop himself from joining her.

When he eventually rolled off her he was breathing hard. He’d come inside her. He hadn’t wanted to pull out.

“Christ,” He came up on one elbow and looked down at Caroline. She looked flushed and lush, and his cock twitched, wanting to go again. He gently touched her inner thigh and saw the end of the now soaked string where she’d prepared herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t pull out.”

She stared back at him, a small crease on her forehead. “If it helps, I’m due to bleed tomorrow. Mrs. Bridgewater told me that was the safest time to do things.”

“Things?” He bent and kissed her nipple. “You mean like fucking?”

“Yes, that.” She was blushing now, which considering what she had just done with her mouth was rather amusing.

He eased her thighs apart and cupped her mound. “Then I’ll want you again.” He bent his head to lick her and she quivered against his questing tongue. “I’d like to fall asleep on top of you and in you and wake you up from the inside.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, and he smiled against her thigh. He wasn’t sure exactly why she was willing to want him like this, but he damned well wasn’t going to question something that felt so right.

Caroline attempted to move away from the heavy arm anchoring her waist and checked the time. It was still dark, but the clock showed it was already six in the morning. She needed to be up preparing breakfast and making sure her mother and sisters were ready to meet the demands of the day. None of them were naturally early risers.

Beside her Captain Grafton stirred, flipped onto his back, and started to snore, which made her want to smile. He’d fulfilled his promises of making love to her again twice. She was now rather sore, and there was an all-too familiar ache low in her stomach that probably meant her monthly courses were on their way. She washed herself as best as she could and put on her clothes while admiring the stark beauty of the captain’s naked torso in the dawn light.

She paused at the door to put her slippers on and stared back at the bed. Should she wake him? No one would enter her bedchamber after she had left it, so he shouldn’t be in any danger of discovery. Making the decision to leave him where he was, she exited through her office and walked down the corridor to stoke the fire in the grate and start making breakfast.

To her surprise, her mother was already up and sitting at the table drinking tea.

“Good morning, Caroline.”

“Good morning, Mother.” Caroline patted her somewhat disordered hair. “Is everything all right? It’s not like you to rise early.”

“I am quite well.” Marie studied her carefully. “I assume the man in your bed last night was Captain Grafton.”

Caroline went still. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, look at you.” Marie made a very French gesture. “You’re practically glowing with satisfaction, and there is a bruise on your throat that looks suspiciously like a bite.”

Caroline’s hand immediately flew to her throat. “I—”

“I’m not judging you, my dear.” Her mother’s pragmatic French streak asserted itself at the most inopportune of times. “We all have to make our choices in life, and Captain Grafton is probably a hard man to resist for long.”

“I owed him money.” Caroline sank down onto the chair opposite her mother’s. “That’s how it started.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “I am not ashamed of sharing his bed.”

Marie reached across the table to take her hand. “He is not the kind of man to… settle.”

“I know that.” Caroline found a smile. “After he grows bored with me I don’t want or expect anything more from him than continued employment. If he can offer me that, I will be content.”

The thought of not sharing his bed after last night was harder to contemplate than she would have believed possible. Despite his repeated denials, he wasn’t cold hearted, and to the contrary, was loyal to a fault to those he considered under his protection. Letting him go—and he would go—would require all her strength of purpose. But she’d survived worse and would eventually accept it.

Ruby came into the kitchen, helped herself to a cup of tea and settled at the table her gaze fixed on her older sister.

“Why is everyone up so early?” Caroline attempted to make a joke. “I never thought you would all be so eager to get to work.”

“I didn’t sleep well.” Ruby glared at her. “There were… sounds.”

Caroline rushed over to flip the ham she’d started in the pan, her cheeks almost as hot as the fire.

“Ruby, don’t be unkind to your sister.” Marie admonished her daughter. “Does she not deserve some happiness?”

“Happiness with a man such as Captain Grafton who exploits the poor?” Ruby demanded. “I would’ve thought my sister would have better taste!”

“Your sister provides a roof over your head and pays your bills, so it might behoove you to start treating her with more respect.”

Caroline swung around, the pan still in her hand to see Captain Grafton and Ivy side by side in the doorway.

Francis looked over Ivy’s head at Caroline who was blushing furiously. “Your sister came looking for you. We had a nice little chat, and she confided in me that both she and Ruby knew you were my mistress, so I didn’t need to skulk around anymore.” His gaze swept the kitchen. “So if you are cooking breakfast, I’ll join you and save myself the effort of traipsing back through the snow to the George.”

Caroline gestured at the table. “Please be my guest.”

“Thank you.” He sat down beside Marie and opposite Ruby who was regarding him with intense dislike.

“Caroline doesn’t pay all the bills. We all work.” Ruby stated her arms folded over her chest.

“I know exactly how much each of you earn,” Francis replied. “Do you really think you’d be able to afford this place if I wasn’t employing your sister?”

“Or bedding her,” Ruby muttered.

“True.” He held her gaze. “So perhaps you should respect her choices and be grateful.”

“You aren’t a good man.”

“Says who?” Francis demanded.

“Everyone except my oldest sister.” He didn’t cow Ruby at all. “You own the most dilapidated properties in town, and you throw people out if they don’t pay their rent on time.”

“I’m a businessman. That’s how I make money. Would you prefer it if I demolished all those run down old places and threw everyone out on the street? What good would that do?”

Ruby bit her lip but didn’t answer him.

“When I found out Mr. Keswick was cheating me and bullying my tenants I got rid of him. I haven’t heard any complaints since.”

“That’s because everyone is too afraid to speak up in case you do throw them out!” Ruby retorted.

“Really. Then perhaps those people might consider lodging a complaint with Mr. O’Brien who has a far calmer temperament than me.”

“I’ll certainly suggest that people do so.” Ruby said grandly.

“Good.” Francis raised an eyebrow. “Now may I eat my breakfast in peace?”

Francis shook hands with Mr. Fletcher from the locomotive company and walked him to the door. “I’m glad we could come to an accommodation, sir.”

“It’s not a done deal quite yet, Captain,” his companion cautioned him. “I need to speak to my board again, but I definitely think the idea has possibilities.”

“It will benefit all of us. You will get the land you want, and I’ll make a profit regardless.”

Mr. Fletcher smiled. “I can’t argue with that logic, Captain. Good day to you, sir.”

Francis watched him go down the stairs, turned to knock on Mrs. Harding’s door and went in.

“Caroline, I have to go out and speak to the bank manager about some incoming funds. If anyone comes looking for me, can you tell them to return after four?”

She sat up straight in her chair, her hands together on the desk. She wore a high-necked blouse with a ruffled neck that still barely covered the bruise at her throat. “You just called me Caroline.”

“So what?”

“Such familiarity is hardly appropriate in this setting.”

He glanced around. “I don’t see anyone else but you and me.”

“I would still rather that you kept such things for… other places.”

“Like when I’m fucking you?”

“If you insist, then yes.”

He strolled closer. “Oh, I insist on fucking you, Caroline. In truth the thought of sitting you on your desk, hitching up your skirts, and thrusting into you sometimes consumes me.”

“You are incorrigible,” she sniffed and avoided his gaze

“I am a man.” He sat on the corner of her desk. and looked down at her bent head “Are you still upset that your whole family knows we are sharing a bed?”

“Yes!” She covered her face with her hands. “It was one of the most mortifying moments of my life. Ruby said she and Ivy couldn’t sleep because we were making so much noise!”

He laughed and patted her shoulder. “Oh dear God, that’s funny.”

“Not to me.”

“Of course not. You are something of a prude, and they are your sisters.” He squeezed her shoulder. “To be honest, I’m quite relieved that everything is out in the open now. I hated creeping around like a felon.”

“I would’ve thought you would’ve gained a great deal of experience creeping out of many bedchambers.”

“Well you would be wrong. The secret is to walk in as if you have every right to be there, and then no one questions you.”

“I’ll remember that if I ever decide to take on the role of mistress of many.” She picked up her pen. “Now did you say that you were going out?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me before I lose what is left of my morals, lock the door, and take you?”

She stood up, marched over to the door, and held it wide open. “Good afternoon, Captain Grafton.”

He strolled over and halted right in front of her. “Francis.”

“As I said, this is not—”

He set a finger under her chin so that she had to look at him. “Say it, and then I’ll go.”

She sighed. “As you wish, Francis.”

He kissed her. “Next time scream it when you’re coming for me.”

With that, he winked and walked away his spirits lighter than they had been for a long time. His smile faded as he walked down the stairs. Normally by this point, he was bored with a lover and seeking a way out. Caroline Harding still excited and challenged him, and the business opportunities in the town were beginning to multiply.

It was raining so he put on his hat and took his umbrella even though the bank was just across the square. He paused in the center near the statue of his ancestor and tried to imagine what it would be like when the locomotive station and hotel were built…

It was hard to visualize, but he could already imagine the huge profits to be made when it came to pass. And it would happen. Now that he had committed himself to it he would make sure of that.

Caroline made herself a cup of tea in the deserted kitchen and took it back to her office. Luckily, she’d only had to deal with Ivy’s schoolwork as Ruby had taken herself off in a huff to Mrs. Sims for the day. She was fairly certain that Ruby would have more to say to her about her choices and was keen to avoid the conversation for as long as possible.

A man came up the stairs and hesitated by Captain Grafton’s office, hat in hand.

“May I help you, sir?” Caroline called out.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Mr. Fletcher. I do apologize for disturbing you. I think I might have left something in Captain Grafton’s office when I visited him earlier. I encountered him in the square, and he told me to come up and check for myself.”

“Mr. Fletcher.” Caroline smiled at the man. She’d noticed his name in Captain Grafton’s appointment diary that morning and thought she recognized his voice. “Please go ahead. What exactly did you leave behind?”

“My scarf.” He went into the office and whisked it off the back of a chair. “My daughter knitted it for me, and if I returned home without it she would be most upset.”

“Indeed.” Caroline smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No thank you, my dear. Captain Grafton and I have settled our business over the building of the station and hotel, which will smarten up Millcastle considerably.”

“We are getting a locomotive line?” Caroline asked.

“A passenger line, ma’am, with a grand station and hotel facing onto the square.” He gestured out of the window. “You will have a splendid view of it from here.”

She stared at the medieval part of the square. “I suppose that will take up a considerable amount of land.”

“Nothing that will be missed.” Mr. Fletcher chuckled. “We don’t want people coming out of the station and having to deal with the kind of vermin that lives in Three Coins now, do we?”

“I suppose not.” Caroline said slowly.

Mr. Fletcher bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Goodbye Mr. Fletcher.”

Caroline continued to stand at the window until she saw Mr. Fletcher striding across the square. If he was correct—and she had no reason to think he would lie to her—then what would happen to Three Coins and the people who lived there? She walked over to Captain Grafton’s desk and immediately spotted a pile of papers with a Millcastle Locomotive letter heading on them.

Holding her breath, she sat down in his chair and read through the proposal to purchase the land around Three Coins from Captain Grafton. In return, he would receive money for the land and options to invest in the construction of the station and the hotel beside it.

“They are not all vermin,” Caroline whispered. “Where will everyone go? Where will they live?”

She tried to convince herself that Captain Grafton, the man who had just asked her to call him Francis, would literally sell people’s homes from under them. He had never pretended to care for anyone other than himself, and this latest example of his callousness shouldn’t shock her.

Except that it did. She pressed a hand to her heart. Was it worth asking him to change his mind? She pictured his expression if she tried and shuddered. Carefully replacing the papers exactly where she had found them, Caroline left the office, shutting the door behind her.

She hadn’t heard a single rumor about the possibility of a locomotive company buying up land in Millcastle and wondered how many people actually knew it was even a possibility. From what she remembered reading in the newspapers, a new locomotive line required an Act of Parliament. Had that already been obtained? Captain Grafton had been remarkably close-lipped about it, and there was no mention of it in his accounts books. Yet.

Which meant it was still possible to stop him.

But how?

Chapter 12

“Has Ruby not returned yet?” Caroline asked her mother as she sat down at the table to eat her dinner, her thoughts still on the problem of what to do about Captain Grafton’s plans.

“I believe she said that after she went to Mrs. Sims’s she might go and see dear Mr. Ford.”

“Whatever for?”

Marie sighed. “While you have been busy with Captain Grafton, Ruby has developed something of a tendre for Mr. Ford and his rather radical causes.”

“She’s only nineteen.” Caroline stated. “He’s my age.”

“You and I were both married before then, so don’t look so disapproving.” Marie reminded her. “He is being very kind to her, and perhaps humoring her rather too well.”

Caroline put down her knife. “I think I’ll go and see if she is at his house.”

“Are you sure you wish to go out? It’s dark out there and won’t Captain Grafton be annoyed if you aren’t here to cater for his every need?”

“That’s not fair, mother.” Caroline stood up. “I am simply doing the best that I can for all of us.”

“And for yourself.” Marie stated. “But if you really cared for us you would’ve done this properly and demanded a house and a quarterly allowance from Captain Grafton. Then I wouldn’t have to work my fingers to the bone for that woman downstairs.”

“I prefer to work for my wages.” Caroline said.

“Oh for goodness sake, dear.“ Marie waved her away. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself then fine. I’m only your mother. When do you ever listen to me?”

Caroline stiffened. “If it wasn’t for you stealing the rent money and ending up in debt to Captain Grafton, none of us would be in this position. Do you understand that?”

Marie dissolved into tears, and Ivy rushed around the table to comfort their mother.

“There’s no need to shout, Caroline.” Ivy said reprovingly. “You know Mother is a gentle soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Caroline didn’t care to answer that piece of nonsense, but she was aware that her mood was already sour from her encounter with Mr. Fletcher and that perhaps she had been a little harsh.

“I apologize, Mother.”

She left the kitchen; stopping only to put on her newly purchased boots and her shawl. Whatever her mother might say the fact that she could afford new boots for the whole family and plenty of food on the table meant everything to her. If she didn’t leave, she might say something worse, or encounter Captain Grafton who had sent a note to tell her that he was dining with the bank manager. Dealing with either of them at this juncture felt impossible.

She was glad to have waterproof boots as she walked across the square and into the narrower streets of Three Coins where the drains were clogged and night soil was dumped in the gutters. The Ford house was in the better part of the district and had clean glass windows, fresh paint, and a well-scrubbed front door step.

Caroline went through the side lane to the back of the house and knocked on the kitchen door. Mrs. Ford opened the door and looked her up and down.

“What do you want?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Ford. I was wondering if my sister Ruby was here.”

“She just stepped out with my son to buy some meat pies. They’ll be back in a minute.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

After a startled glance at her hostess, Caroline moved forward. “Thank you.”

It was the first time she had been invited across the threshold. Like most of the terraced houses, there was a kitchen and a rarely used parlor at the front. Mrs. Ford led Caroline through to the unheated and dark parlor and gestured for her to sit. She lit a single tallow candle and sat opposite her guest.

Knowing that Mrs. Ford didn’t suffer fools gladly, Caroline decided to speak first.

“Is my sister Ruby bothering you or your son?”

“She has grown a mite fond of him,” Mrs. Ford said grudgingly.

“And what of Jon?”

“I’m not sure.” She pursed her lips. “I suspect he likes her because she’s your sister, and he’s still yearning after what he can’t have.”

“As in me?”

“Yes, although why he’d want another man’s leavings I cannot say.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “What a horrible thing to say.”

“It’s the truth, lass isn’t it?”

“I did the best I could to save my mother and sisters from starving,” Her voice started to tremble. “And somehow I am the one who is maligned and degraded.”

“That’s the way of the world.” Mrs. Ford shrugged. “You knew that. You still did it.”

“So that sanctimonious old crows like you and my mother’s friends can call me names to my face?” Caroline cried. “It is so unfair.”

“Whoever told you life would be fair?” Mrs. Ford shook her head. “I don’t approve of what you are doing, but I’ll say this, lass. Knowing your mother and what happened, I would’ve done the same thing myself.”

“You would?” Caroline struggled not to cry as she raised her gaze to meet the older woman’s.

“Aye.” Mrs. Ford said. “And now that we’ve got that out of the way, what are we going to do about young Ruby?”

“Would you object if I talked to Jon about the matter?” Caroline asked.

“Go ahead. I’ll send him in here when he gets back.” Mrs. Ford rose. “I think I hear them at the back door now.”

Caroline braced herself as she heard Ruby’s questioning voice and Jon’s deeper tones, wondering if Ruby would object to her presence and demand to hear what was being said.

She stood when the parlor door opened and was relieved when Jon came in alone. His slow smile when he saw her warmed her heart.

“Mrs. Harding. Caroline. What a nice surprise. Did you come to find Ruby?” His smile turned wry. “She has developed something of a habit of confiding in me.”

“Oh good Lord,” Caroline murmured. “Hopefully not about everything?”

He gestured for her to sit down again and joined her. “She was in something of a mood today because she discovered that you and Captain Grafton share a bed.”

Caroline groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I am so sorry.”

“No need, lass.” He fought a smile. “I’d already worked that one out for myself a few months ago.” He hesitated. “I tried to explain to her that sometimes choices in life are hard, and that we can only do our best at the time and in the circumstances we are given.”

“That was good of you.”

He chuckled. “I can’t say she paid much attention. She doesn’t like Captain Grafton. She’s developed some strong views on the reform act, and other social issues since she started attending chapel with me and my mother.”

“She’s been attending the Methodist chapel?” Caroline asked. “I thought when she said she was going to church she meant St. Mary’s. My mother is going to be furious.”

“It’s my turn to be sorry lass, I would’ve asked your permission, but as you know I’ve been doing my best to keep away while Captain Grafton is in town.” He frowned. “And he’s been here for more than three months now, which is something of a record.”

“Well he isn’t staying on my account.” Caroline hastened to reassure him. “He’s been up to his ears in business deals.”

“So I hear. One of my fellow overseers has a son who works at Millcastle Bank. He told me that Captain Grafton and a fellow called Mr. Fletcher have been buzzing in and out of there like bees to a honeypot. Now, Mr. Fletcher is involved with the Millcastle Locomotive Company, which made me wonder whether there was a plan afoot to build a station in town.”

Caroline simply stared at him. “And?”

“There is. Guess where they want to put it,” Jon said grimly. “Slap down in the middle of Three Coins.”

Caroline bit her lip. “Captain Grafton owns all the land on that side of the square and beyond.”

“And building a station fronting the square would take up a considerable amount of space considering the railway tracks, and everything else they’d need.” Jon sighed. “I don’t suppose Captain Grafton said anything about where all his tenants are supposed to go?”

“He hasn’t spoken directly to me about this matter,” Caroline confessed.

Jon shoved a hand through his dark hair. “There’s a meeting tomorrow night where I’ll have an opportunity to bring up the subject. I suspect there are a few people in Three Coins who might want to have a word with Captain Grafton about his plans.”

“I should imagine there would be.” It was her turn to sigh. “Having lived in Three Coins, I know that most of the people are simply trying to survive and do not deserve to be thrown out on their ears.”

“You have a good heart, Caroline.”

She shivered. “Unlike Captain Grafton.”

“Well, to be fair on the man, since he got rid of Billy Keswick, there’s been no more extortion or unexplained rent rises, and he’s loyal to those he employs.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

“Hardly that.” He chuckled. “He’ll be off back to London soon, and he’ll forget all about this place and his tenants who have to deal with the consequences.”

“I suspect you are right.” Caroline reluctantly turned the conversation back to Ruby. “I know that you have been very kind to my sisters, Ruby in particular, but you mustn’t let her monopolize your spare time.”

“What spare time? I work a twelve or fourteen hour shift, eat, sleep, go to chapel, and chair the occasional workers meeting.”

She held his gaze. “You do know that Ruby is… very fond of you.”

“And you wouldn’t want a sister of yours marrying a working man like me?”

“That’s not fair, Jon.”

He shrugged. “I’m only asking. I wasn’t good enough for you, was I?”

“You know why I couldn’t—”

“Caroline, don’t be daft, lass.” He spoke over her. “You wouldn’t have married me even if Captain Grafton hadn’t made his claim.”

She went to argue, and then closed her mouth.

“You see? You do have a good heart but you’re a terrible liar.” His smile was wry. “I’m very fond of Ruby. She’s like you.”

“Like I could’ve been if I hadn’t been the oldest sister and the one everyone depends upon.” Caroline said. She was beginning to feel like all her pigeons were coming home to roost today, and it wasn’t pleasant.

“I can’t argue with that.” Jon agreed.

“She is only nineteen.”

“I know, and I haven’t done anything to encourage her interest in me.” He paused. “But my mother likes her, and in a year or so, if she is still willing, I might ask her to be my wife.”

Caroline allowed the silence of the parlor to sink over her. She appreciated his honesty, but a small part of her still hurt. “I understand.” She managed a smile. “You will make some lucky woman a wonderful husband.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.” He rose from his seat, came over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not a stupid man, Caroline. I know you won’t ever be mine, but I’m not going to fall into a decline over it.”

“I’m glad of that.” She cupped his chin. “Thank you for everything.”

Just as she kissed his cheek the door opened, and Ruby stepped over the threshold, her shocked gasp making them both turn to her.

“Ruby…” Caroline held out her hand, but it was too late, her sister was already in flight. After a hurried apology to Jon, she gathered up her skirts and ran after her sister.

“Ruby!” She called out to her sister who had already gained the street. “Stop!”

To her relief, her sister did as she asked, and waited for her to catch up.

“How come you get to kiss everyone?” Ruby shouted. “Why do you have to spoil everything?”

Caroline took her sister’s bunched fist in her hand. “I was just thanking him for being my friend.”

“And yet if I’d done that you would’ve been telling me off for weeks!”

“You’re unmarried and you’re my responsibility.” Caroline said. “Please don’t misinterpret what you saw.”

Ruby wrenched out of Caroline’s grasp and marched back across the square toward Madame’s. Caroline shadowed her glad that her sister was at least going home.

She followed Ruby up the stairs wincing at her stomping only to find Captain Grafton standing in the door of his office watching them both.

“Good evening Mrs. Harding, Miss Ruby.”

Ruby glowered at him as she went past, and then stopped making Caroline’s heart miss a beat.

“Is there something wrong?” Captain Grafton inquired, his gaze moving between the two of them.

“Ask her!” Ruby pointed back at Caroline. “Ask her why she was kissing Jon Ford!” She went off down the corridor and slammed the door as she entered the kitchen

Francis turned to his right where Mrs. Harding stood as if she had been turned to stone. He was fairly certain that Ruby was telling the truth. Caroline was a terrible liar. Everything showed on her face.

“Were you at Mr. Ford’s house, Mrs. Harding?”

“I went to see if Ruby was there. She didn’t come home after visiting Mrs. Sims.”

“And while you were there you just happened to fall into Mr. Ford’s arms, and kiss him?”

He wasn’t sure why the idea annoyed him so much. In London he’d grown used to women of his class trading lovers as regularly as they changed their clothes. He wasn’t a possessive man. Perhaps being in the north inhabiting his other baser self had changed him. Or was it simply that the thought of anyone else touching Caroline Harding and, even worse, her initiating that intimacy was too much to bear?

“I kissed him once on the cheek to say thank you,” she said simply. “There was nothing more to it.”

“Thank you for what, exactly?”

“For not encouraging Ruby.”

He straightened and slowly advanced toward her. He knew exactly what she looked like when she had been thoroughly kissed and was aroused, and this was not it.

“You kissed him to make sure he remained interested in you at the expense of your sister?” Francis inquired.

“What a very unpleasant thing to suggest!” Caroline glared at him. “You seem to forget that not everyone is as calculating as you are. I have no interest in him other than as a friend,”

“So you keep saying,” he shrugged. “And yet you keep kissing him.”

She raised her chin as he approached.

“I am having an extremely horrible day, most of which is your fault, and I do not intend to explain myself further.”

“My fault?” he backed her against the wall. “Pray tell.”

She turned her face away from him. “Please don’t start.”

“Start what? You are the one kissing other men.”

“Ha! Can you honestly say that you haven’t kissed another woman since you forced me to become your mistress?”

“I hardly forced you. If I seem to remember correctly, you came to my bedchamber and started undressing.” He raised an eyebrow. “How was I supposed to refuse such a generous offer?”

“You—” She thumped him hard on the chest. “I’m—”

He maneuvered her along the wall until they reached the door to her bedroom, opened it, and followed her inside.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Caroline?” Francis drawled. “You appear to have lost your ability to speak in complete sentences.”

She wrenched away from him and paced the room, her arms wrapped around her waist.

“Please go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He stripped off his coat and started work on his cravat.

“I am in no mood to be…”

“Fucked?” He shrugged. “I’m sure I can persuade you otherwise, although one would have thought that after you were discovered kissing another man, you might be the one attempting to make me forget about it.”

“You know it meant nothing.” she said fiercely.

“Do I?” He took off his waistcoat. “I know Mr. Ford is in love with you. He told me so himself.”

“I would never… do this with more than one man at a time.”

“Really? That’s a shame.” he shook his head. “It’s quite enjoyable.”

She shook her head. “You are… impossible.”

“Look at it this way.” He sauntered toward her. “You are in the wrong. We both know it. But I’m giving you an opportunity to erase that sin and make it up to me.”

She searched his face. “Why are you always so damn flippant?”

He shrugged. “Because I’ve learned not to take myself too seriously?”

“But you have to care about something.”

“Why?” Francis asked. “I care about my survival, and I’ll do anything to ensure it continues, but after that everything else is replaceable, isn’t it?”

“Easy for you to say when you have that rather nice house, an income, and a title to fall back on in hard times. You really have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“What it’s really like to be poor.” She met his gaze. “To have to sell yourself and everything you held dear simply to survive?”

The contempt in her voice struck him hard.

“You think I haven’t sold myself?”

She stared up at him.

“How do you think I made this fortune, Mrs. Harding? On the backs of my family name and the estate I inherited? Not quite. When I was discharged from the army I had nothing, not even the means to buy a ticket home. I almost starved to death before I found an opportunity to prostitute myself. As in my body in return for food, or jewels or whatever I could squirrel away for the price of a voyage home. I took them all on—men and women, whoever could pay the price for my ever-increasing experience. So don’t ever talk to me about surviving when you only have to deal with pleasuring me.”

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the ticking clock before Francis let out his breath and turned away from the appalled pity in her eyes.

“I don’t feel like fucking you after all, Mrs. Harding. Good night.”

He gathered up his clothes and escaped back into his office where he hurriedly dressed again. He’d never told anyone exactly what he’d had to do to survive before and had no idea why he’d blurted it out to Mrs. Harding. The fact that he’d shared such a truth with her made him uneasy. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt vulnerable, and he didn’t like it.

He grabbed his hat and put it on his head and walked toward the stairs.

“Captain Grafton?”

He stopped walking and looked over his shoulder as Ruby came toward him. She looked as if she had been crying.

“I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I was just jealous that Jon still likes Caroline more than me.”

“Aren’t we all?” Francis muttered as he continued down the stairs without properly replying. Ruby would probably go and check on her sister to make sure he hadn’t beaten Caroline up in the grand tradition of Three Coins. He suspected he was the one who had emerged the loser in that particular encounter. But what he intended to do with that moment of clarity he wasn’t yet sure.

He wasn’t used to examining his conscience or defending his choices. He’d made his decision to survive and never looked back. The notion that one determined woman could get under his skin and make him question himself was distinctly unpleasant.

He walked into the kitchens at the George, took a bottle of brandy from the cellar and retired to his bedchamber where he intended to drink himself into such a stupor that he wouldn’t remember a single thing the next morning.

Chapter 13

“Captain Grafton?”

Francis looked over his shoulder as he exited the bank and discovered Mr. Pilcher, the mill owner attempting to attract his attention. He had a terrible headache, and no real desire to speak to the man, but the common courtesy drilled into him during a lifetime dictated he pause to listen.

“Yes. Mr. Pilcher? How can I assist you?”

The older man came through the door and joined Francis in the square.

“I wanted to inform you that there is a meeting being held at the Methodist Church Hall tonight where a known radical from London is going to speak.”

“Who exactly would that be?”

“A scoundrel of the first order who should be transported for life!” Mr. Pilcher snarled. “Stirring up my workforce, making them question their betters. I won’t stand for it, and neither will the town council.”

“As I wasn’t expecting to attend such a meeting, I wonder why you are drawing it to my attention,” Francis asked, eager to return to the matter in hand and get on with his day.

“We have alerted the local forces of the law, and the military, and Sir Ian will prosecute anyone who is deemed to have behaved in a treasonable or revolutionary manner.” Mr. Pilcher leaned in closer. “I have warned my workforce not to attend. You should avoid the square this evening and make sure your employers are not caught up in the melee.”

“I will indeed do so.” Francis paused. “Are you expecting a riot?”

Mr. Pilcher smiled. “Let’s just say that there are certain elements within the crowd who might cause one and allow us to get rid of many of the rabble rousers in Millcastle in one fell swoop.”

“Paid agitators? How very unsporting of you, Mr. Pilcher. Who in particular are you keen to get rid of?”

Mr. Pilcher reeled off a list of names. Francis recognized precisely three of them. He tipped his hat to the older man.

“Well, I must be off. I will make sure I am not out and about this evening. Thank you for the information.”

He walked back across to the George where he would make sure Nancy and Ned were aware of the potential for upcoming trouble. Mr. Pilcher’s glee at the idea of his workers being prosecuted and transported had left a bad taste in Francis’s mouth. He didn’t particularly believe that universal suffrage was important, but he didn’t appreciate the way the elite of Millcastle intended to deal with their own workforce.

Nancy looked up as he came into the kitchen.

“You back again? Did you forget your head?” She snorted. “Although, considering how much brandy you drank last night, I’m impressed you are standing upright.”

He quickly repeated what Mr. Pilcher had told him, and Nancy’s face reddened.

“What a disgusting old man he is—with his penchant for fifteen year old virgins and his prissy churchgoing ways.”

“Likes them young, does he?” Francis winced. “I can’t say it surprises me, but regardless of the hypocrisy of the source, please do your best not to get caught up in this matter.”

“I hear you, Captain.” Nancy pummeled her dough with unnecessary force. “You’d better tell the Delisle girls to stay in. If she can find a way to sneak into the hall, Ruby is always at those meetings.”

“How do you know?” Francis inquired.

“Because I’ve seen her arm in arm with Mr. Ford the overseer a couple of times. And in the eyes of the mill owners, he’s one of the chief agitators.” She thumped her dough again. “As if helping people learn to read and write is a bad thing.”

“So I hear.” Francis turned to the stairs.

“Is it true that you’re planning to throw out all your tenants in Three Coins?”

Francis went still and looked over his shoulder. “Where the devil did you hear that?”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “So it’s true then?”

“Who told you?” Francis repeated his question.

“Some of the mill workers were muttering about it last night in the bar. They said one of the overseers had mentioned something.”

“Then maybe they shouldn’t listen to gossip.” Francis turned back. “Is Mr. O’Brien on the premises?”

“Yes, he’s upstairs in your old office.”

“Then I’ll go and speak to him. Perhaps on his rounds today he can warn my tenants about the likely outcome of this meeting and urge them to stay away.”

His reluctance to return to his new office was entirely due to his reluctance to encounter Mrs. Harding, but he’d have to speak to her and her sisters to ensure their safety. He paused on the stairs. The only overseer he knew by name at any of the mills happened to be Mr. Ford—the man Caroline had been closeted with on the previous day. Had she somehow found out about his deal with the railroad company? He’d hardly kept it a secret.

Had she betrayed him to Mr. Ford?

A cold anger gripped him as he considered all the possibilities and could only come up with negatives. Betrayal never sat easily with him and from this particular source? Francis went into his old office and Mr. O’Brien stood up to greet him. He’d leave it as late as possible and hope that maybe Mrs. Harding might be busy elsewhere. If that made him a coward he was perfectly willing to admit it. When he did face her, he intended to be fully prepared.

“Mrs. Harding?”

Caroline eyed the veiled figure in black who had asked to speak to her in the shop.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

The woman lifted the veil to reveal her familiar pale features.

“Miss Rebecca Harding,” Caroline almost took a step back. “If you have come to berate me again, please don’t bother.”

“I came to tell you that my father is dead.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Caroline murmured the words automatically. “I didn’t realize he was unwell.”

“We didn’t realize he was, either. He had a heart attack in bed two nights ago and died shortly after the doctor arrived.” Miss Harding dabbed her eyes with a black edged handkerchief. “As you might imagine, it was a horrible shock for Mama and for me.”

“Indeed,” Caroline replied. “I will write to your mother expressing my condolences. I am sure my late husband would have wanted that.”

Miss Harding drew a quick breath. “I wanted to ask if you would come to the funeral.”

“Forgive me, but why?” Caroline asked. “Your father made it very clear what he thought of me and how he valued my family.”

“And my mother and I did not agree with his decision. We begged him not to turn you away but father was adamant.” Miss Harding met her gaze, suddenly reminding Caroline of her late husband. “We would like you to come for my brother’s sake, and for us.”

“I will have to think about it,” Caroline said carefully. “Perhaps you might send me a note of the time and day of the funeral.”

“I will certainly do that and thank you for not dismissing the notion out of hand.” Miss Harding managed to find a smile. “After the funeral, there will be a gathering at our home and, of course the reading of his will.” She hesitated. “Our solicitor asked if you could be present for that. I have no idea why.”

Caroline curtsied. She could only imagine her father-in-law somehow wished to harangue her from beyond the grave. It would be just like him.

“As I said, please send me the details and I will see if I can get the time off work.”

“Thank you.” Miss Harding curtsied in return and drew her veil down over her bonnet again. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

Caroline saw Miss Harding to her carriage, and then walked slowly into the back of the shop where her mother was busy with her embroidery.

“What did that woman want?” Marie asked.

“It was Miss Harding. Her father has just died.”

“Good riddance,” Marie poked her needle into the satin. “She and her family treated us abominably.”

Caroline perched on the corner of the table. “She wants me to attend the funeral and the reading of the will.”

“Really?” Marie looked up her interest sparked by the mention of the will. “I assume the mother just wishes you to appear so that they don’t look like they abandoned their only son’s wife.”

“That’s probably it.” Caroline sighed. “But I feel that Nigel would’ve expected me to attend.”

“He’s dead, Caroline, and he made completely inadequate provision for you by not updating his will. He left us in a terrible situation.”

The fact that her mother had spent all the money left to her by her late husband and her daughters’ dowries leaving them with nothing seemed to have conveniently been forgotten.

“She said she would send me a formal invitation. I think I’ll wait and decide what to do when it arrives.” Caroline stood and brushed down her skirt. “Now I must get on. There are the monthly accounts to deal with.”

She went back up the stairs where Captain Grafton’s office door stood open. He hadn’t appeared yet, and it was almost midday. Had their last encounter finally convinced him not to bed her any longer? He’d been furious with her, and yet she’d never felt quite so intimate with him as when he’d told her about his past. He’d hate himself for revealing anything so personal to her. She already knew that.

“Ah, Mrs. Harding, just the person I wished to speak to.”

She jumped as his voice came from behind her and moved quickly to one side so that he could get into his office.

“Come in and sit down.”

She did as he asked, covertly studying his face as she took the chair in front of his desk. He didn’t sit, but loomed over her, which made her feel at a disadvantage.

He took a piece of paper from out of his pocket and placed it on the desk.

“I meant to give you this the other day.”

Caroline made no move to take the document, and he continued talking.

“It’s a note confirming that your debt to me is paid in full.”

“How can that be true?” Caroline blinked at him. “I’ve only been working for you for six months.”

He shrugged. “I took into account not only the hours you worked for me, but the savings I have accrued from your honesty. In truth, they far exceed the paltry sum you owed me.”

There was a tension in his body at odds with the calmness on his face, which made her nervous.

“Are you dispensing with my services?” Caroline asked slowly, her heart beating so hard that she felt dizzy.

“Not all of them.” He paused. “I would appreciate you remaining as my bookkeeper. I expect to be leaving for London next week, and I doubt I’ll return within the next six months. I will pay you an excellent salary for your continued diligence.”

“What of your business commitments in Millcastle?”

“Mr. O’Brien will take care of those.” He picked up the paper, brought it around the desk and dropped it on her lap. “If you need to communicate with me you can send any correspondence through him.”

Caroline stared down at the letter until the figures swirled in front of her eyes. He was giving her everything that six months ago she had prayed for, and yet it felt terribly wrong.

“Why?” she blurted out. “Why are you doing this?”

He frowned. “I am not throwing you out of your lodgings, and despite the circumstances, I am keeping you on as my bookkeeper. What right do you have to be upset?”

“What circumstances?” Caroline asked. “That I disagreed with you, that you told me things about yourself that you would prefer to have kept private? I will never betray your confidences.”

“Ha!” His laugh was sharp. “Never betray me? I think you have already done that, ma’am when you conspired with Mr. Ford.”

Caroline rose to her feet her hands curling into fists. “I told you the truth. I only kissed him to say thank you.”

“For what, exactly?” His eyes were like chips of ice. “If that were the case one would imagine he would be the one kissing you.”

“Ruby is rather fond of him,” Caroline explained. “He promised me he had not encouraged her… affections.”

“Because he’s still hoping you’ll change your mind?”

“No! I told him—”

He cut across her. “I know what you told him, and now the whole bloody town is baying for my blood.”

“What?” Caroline asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Really.” He returned to stand behind his desk. “Did he tell you about the meeting tonight at the hall, which includes a rabble rousing speaker, and apparently a discussion on what will happen to the people of Three Coins when I throw them out of their hovels?”

“Oh,” Caroline pressed her hand to the bodice of her dress. “I had no idea…”

“That your snooping would create such an uproar? Oh come now, Mrs. Harding. You aren’t a fool. You must have known that sharing that particular piece of information with Mr. Ford would damage me greatly.”

“I wasn’t the person—”

He came around the desk so fast that she flinched away from him.

“Don’t you dare.” He leaned in until she had to tilt her head back to see him, his hands on the arms of her chair caging her in. “Don’t you bloody dare defend yourself, or I will rescind my offer of a job and send you packing.”

“With just the clothes on my back?” Caroline glared right back at him. “Why not do it now? You’re obviously willing to do it to hundreds of other people without a care in the world.”

“Be quiet, Mrs. Harding.”

“Why? What else can you do to me? I’ve been on the streets, I’ve been reduced to begging you to bed me for a shilling!” She swallowed hard as tears crowded her throat. “And how dare you criticize me when your sin is far worse? You’re willing to sacrifice all those people in Three Coins to make money.”

“So you did know.” Captain Grafton sneered and moved away from her.

“I spoke to Mr. Fletcher, he told me about your plan, and that’s all—”

“I don’t believe you.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “And there’s nothing wrong with making a profit.”

“There is at the expense of others.” Caroline said. “You are in the wrong.” She took a step away from him. “I will leave immediately.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He sat down at his desk and looked down at his pile of morning post. “You’ve already lost one home because you acted before you thought things through. Perhaps this time you’ll use your common sense, stay here, and do your damned job.”

“For a man who thinks I betrayed him?”

“Why not?” He smiled, and it hurt her to the soul. “If you continue to perform your job adequately, why should I care what you think about me?”

She turned and ran down to the kitchen, locked the door behind her and burst into tears, stifling the sobs with her hands as she shook with emotion. She wished she had told Jon Ford what she knew—that would have taught the arrogant bastard a lesson!

Sitting down at the table she wiped her eyes. Why hadn’t she told Jon? Why hadn’t she even confirmed his suspicions? Because unlike her employer, she’d tried to remain loyal even when he assumed she wouldn’t. Could she continue to work for Captain Grafton knowing that? It hurt far more than she had anticipated. She’d foolishly imagined that they’d become closer, that he respected her, that he…

Liked her? Loved her? She slowly raised her head and stared at the door. Well now she knew that she was as easy to discard as all the other women who had briefly featured in his life. Turning around she considered the clean kitchen and the warmth of the building surrounding her. Should she give it up? Part of her wanted to walk out just to show Captain Francis Grafton that she wouldn’t be intimidated, while the rest of her couldn’t imagine inflicting such a wound on her family again.

She blew her nose and dried her eyes. Captain Grafton was leaving Millcastle soon. Perhaps she should take his unwanted advice and stay exactly where she was until she was able to leave on her own terms. Even though she felt as if her heart was broken, that would be the greatest victory of all.

Chapter 14

Francis dressed warmly and checked the time on his pocket watch. He reckoned that the meeting would be well underway by this point, and that the audience would be focused on the speakers. As soon as the factory shift had let out, some workers had ignored the order not to attend the meeting and headed for the hall early to get a good seat. Francis knew that every business owner worth his salt would have an informer in there writing down or remembering the names of those men.

In a similar situation he suspected he would’ve been up on that platform inciting a rebellion himself. He’d never learned to be cautious. Where was the fun in that?

The black edged letter his mother had sent him that morning informing him Mrs. Musgrove had died caught his attention. She’d outlined the funeral arrangements, and he was still considering whether to attend. After his confrontation with Mrs. Harding, the urge to run away to London had hit him hard. He never ran away from anything, and the fact that he wanted to was causing him deep unease.

Had he wronged her?

Francis stared out in the darkness of the coaching yard. And why did it matter if he had? He’d done the decent thing and let her keep her job and lodgings. If anyone else had betrayed him like that, he would’ve annihilated them.

Why hadn’t he done that?

He folded up the letter and put it in the drawer of his desk. Because despite everything Mrs. Harding was an excellent and honest bookkeeper? He snorted at his own pathetic attempt to ignore the obvious. He’d made an amateurish mistake and mistaken her gratitude for something more profound. He’d trusted her with his most painful memories, and in return she’d run to another man…

As he’d left, he’d heard her sobbing through the kitchen door and fought an unheard of desire to go to her and make everything right. Would she throw his job offer in his face and leave her lodgings? He didn’t have the nerve to cross the square and find out.

He slammed the drawer shut, and put on his hat. And that was why it was safer not to care about anyone. It made you weak and distracted you from the matter in hand. Stuffing his gloves in his pocket, he left the room and went down the stairs. The inn was unusually quiet, as if the whole building was holding its breath.

Avoiding the kitchen and Nancy’s sharp gaze, Francis went through the front door into the cold wintery darkness. The meeting hall was ablaze with lights, and the considerable crowd had spilled out onto the square, which was ringed by a formidable array of the local militia and law enforcement. Francis could almost taste the recipe for disaster on his tongue.

He walked across the square; his head down to avoid the sleeting rain and pushed his way through the crowd until he had reached the open door. Inside there was a raised platform where an unknown man stood at the lectern shouting about universal suffrage and rights for all, which drew roars of support from the packed rows of people.

Francis made his way further into the hall as the speaker sat down to rapturous applause and Mr. Ford took his place.

“I’d like to thank our speaker, Mr. Mulligan.”

There was more applause and Mr. Ford nodded and smiled.

“Now onto more local matters.” His expression sobered. “There are men amongst us who do not espouse our cause and will report those here present to their employers. If any man is let go because of this, please come and see the workers committee who have established a hardship fund to help our fellow members.”

There was some muttering amongst the crowd, and a few of the men surrounding Francis stared at him curiously.

“Also, there are those who would like this meeting to descend into violence.” Mr. Ford paused to wait for the audience to quieten down. “We will not allow ourselves to be provoked. We are not animals.” He looked around the hall. “Now is there any other business?”

A man stood up and doffed his cap to the men on the platform. “What’s this about Captain Grafton selling off Three Coins to the locomotive company?”

Francis winced as a low murmur rose and spread amongst the crowd. He’d been hoping for an opportunity to speak for himself before the matter came out.

Mr. Ford looked at his fellow committee members and then answered. “There is a rumor to that effect, yes, although there are no confirmed documents of sale.”

Another man stood up. “Where are we supposed to go if this is true?”

Several voices rose to agree with him. The man standing right beside Francis waved an arm in the air.

“Why don’t we ask him?” He pointed at Francis. “He’s right here.”

Mr. Ford stared right at Francis as if unable to believe his eyes. “Captain Grafton?”

Francis inclined his head an inch. “Indeed.” He cleared his throat aware that everyone was now staring at him. “I wished to discuss the matter of the sale of Three Coins.”

“So, it’s true then?” Someone yelled.

“Yes, but—”

That was all Francis was able to get out before someone charged him and knocked him to the ground. Within seconds, he was at the bottom of a pile of bodies and beginning to wonder what had possessed him to walk into such a deadly trap.

“Get off him!” Mr. Ford’s voice penetrated through the fog. “No violence! I told you! Don’t give them an excuse to break up this meeting!”

The large man on top of Francis gave him one last contemptuous punch in the face before he climbed off his chest. Mr. Ford hauled Francis to his feet.

“You fool. This isn’t the place for this!”

Francis blinked at him through the blood running down his face. “Take your hands off me.”

Mr. Ford ignored him and held onto Francis as someone else closed the meeting with a moment of prayer.

“Come on.”

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Francis wheezed through the pain.

“I’m saving your bloody life, you blithering idiot.” Mr. Ford half dragged him out of the side door of the meeting hall. “Not that you deserve it.”

Francis tried to shake his arm free. “Then leave me here and go to the devil. I don’t want your help.”

“Mrs. Harding would never forgive me if you died.”

“You are mistaken, my friend. She has nothing, but contempt for me.”

“Don’t be so bloody conceited.” Mr. Ford shoved Francis up against the wall. “She needs a job that you provide so you need to survive. That’s all I care about. Now bide here while I fetch some help.”

Francis waited until his tormentor left and considered his options. The square was full of a volatile mixture of those who currently wanted his blood and a jumpy militia who would love to dispose of a few potential revolutionaries. All he had to do was slip down the back lanes, enter the George through the stables and climb the stairs to his bedchamber.

He took one faltering step forward as blackness closed over him, and he knew no more.

“Caroline! Come quickly!”

Caroline looked up from her darning as Ruby ran into the kitchen. Her dress was splattered with mud and her hair hung down her back.

“What on earth is it?”

“Captain Grafton! He’s at the bottom of the staircase. I couldn’t get him any further.”

Before she even considered her choices, Caroline was out of her seat and running after Ruby, Ivy in close pursuit. She descended the stairs and saw Captain Grafton lying half across the open door of the threshold.

“What has the stupid fool been doing now?” Caroline muttered as she knelt beside his unconscious form.

“He went to the meeting and the crowd turned on him,” Ruby reported breathlessly. “Jon managed to get him out, and I offered to bring him here because the George is surrounded by people clamoring for his blood.”

“Oh, Good Lord!” Caroline shook his arm. “Captain Grafton? Captain Grafton, you must rouse yourself and climb these stairs before you are discovered by the mob.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his fierce golden gaze reminded her of a trapped fox.

“Go to hell.”

“Captain, you will help me and my sisters get you up the stairs, or I will knock you out and drag you by your hair.”

“All right!” he growled at her. “Stop nagging, and I’ll do anything you say.”

She eased back and helped him lurch unsteadily to his feet. It took all of their combined strength and efforts to maneuver him up the steep staircase and into Caroline’s bedroom where she helped him fall onto the mattress. His gasp of pain was loud enough to make her wince.

After pulling the sheets back she beckoned for Ivy and Ruby to join her in the hallway.

“Boil some water, find my basket of medicines and rip up that old sheet into strips for bandages.” She pushed her disheveled hair away from her face. “Thank goodness Mother decided to take shelter at the vicarage this evening.”

“Why should we help him? Ruby demanded. “He’s going to demolish Three Coins and sell it to the locomotive company.”

“We will help him because it is the right thing to do.” Caroline met Ruby’s defiant stare. “Jon asked you to help, didn’t he? And remember, Captain Grafton saved my life when I was lost in the snow.”

Ivy patted Caroline’s sleeve. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.” She took Ruby’s hand. “Come on, sister. You look as if you need something to eat.”

Caroline returned to her bedroom and studied Captain Grafton from the relative safety of the door. His face was bloodied, and she could see the beginnings of a black eye. She moved closer, and he didn’t stir. The effort of climbing the stairs must have drained what little reserve of strength he had left. Whatever had possessed him to walk into that meeting? What had he hoped to achieve?

If she was still on good terms with him, she could’ve demanded answers to her questions…

But she was not. She would repay his care of her when she’d been ill and send him on his way—preferably as far away as possible. There was a tap on the door, and Ivy appeared with a bowl of water and the other items Caroline had requested.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of Ruby and Mother when she comes home.”

“Thank you.” Caroline kissed her cheek. “I appreciate it.”

Ivy glanced over at Captain Grafton. “It’s strange to see him so still. He is normally a swirl of terrifying motion.”

“That’s true.”

Caroline brought the basin of water over to the bed and started on the task of undressing her insensible patient. His boots were caked with dirt, and his finely tailored clothing were ripped and muddy. She could clearly see marks on his throat where someone had tried to strangle him.

His breath hissed out as she attempted to pull his shirt over his head, and she winced when she saw the black and blue bruises on his ribs. It was highly likely that he had a broken or bruised rib, but she didn’t think a doctor would come out on a night like this. She also didn’t want to alert anyone as to why she might need a doctor in the first place.

When she had him naked, she carefully washed his body and dabbed witch-hazel on the swelling around his eye and along the high angle of his cheekbone. He didn’t stir again so she drew the sheet up to his chin and settled in the chair beside the fire.

At some point she must have dozed off because she heard her mother’s complaining voice and jerked awake, her heart thumping. After a quick look at her still unconscious patient, she slipped out of the room and down the corridor to the kitchen where her mother was holding court.

“I am so glad they sent a servant to escort me home!” Marie pressed a hand to her bosom. “It is quite frightening out there!”

“What exactly is happening?” Caroline asked.

“The militia are still in the square, and a group of reprobates are refusing to disperse from around the George and Dragon. I spoke to one of the officers, and apparently, windows have been broken, and some arrests have been made.” She shuddered. “It seems that Captain Grafton has riled up the entire population of Millcastle.”

“Indeed?” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least, but I thought the meeting was about votes for all men, and the repeal of the Corn Laws?”

“So did I,” Ruby added her voice to the discussion. “I can’t wait to find out how Captain Grafton came to be in the middle of it.”

“I’m going to take my special cordial for my nerves, Caroline, and try and sleep.” Marie rose from her seat. “Luckily my room faces away from the square.”

“I hope you sleep well, Mother and I’m sure everything will be back to normal in the morning.”

Caroline found the bottle of laudanum-laced blackcurrant syrup her mother preferred and poured her a generous dose. Marie usually slept through anything after that, which would allow Captain Grafton to remain undetected at least until morning when hopefully he would be well enough to leave.

Francis woke with the headache from hell and some difficulty breathing without feeling as if he was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest. Was he officially in hell with the devil’s minions jabbing him with their pitchforks? He half-opened his eyes and realized he was in a bed, which, while not his own, was still familiar. Maybe there was something worse than hell…

He turned his head a fraction on the pillow and saw Caroline Harding asleep in the chair beside the fire, one hand tucked under her chin and her legs curled up on the seat. She looked both delightful and desirable, and he just allowed himself to appreciate her languorous beauty for a moment before he had to decide what in God’s name to do next.

Not that he was fit to do anything except groan. He slid a hand under the sheet and cautiously ran his fingers over his ribs emitting a soft involuntary curse when he touched something painful.

Mrs. Harding’s eyes flew open, and she almost fell out of her chair.

“Captain Grafton! You are awake.” She scrambled to rearrange her limbs under her skirts and stood. “How are you feeling?”

He stared up at her. “Why am I in your bed?”

“It’s… complicated.” She pushed a loose curl behind her ear. “I neither expected or wanted to see you here ever again.”

“Prickly as ever, I see,” he murmured. “Now you’ve said your piece, can you tell me the truth?”

“Ruby found you unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, and we brought you up here.”

“Why was I there?” He frowned. “The last thing I remember is being set upon in the meeting.”

“The meeting where you went to tell everyone that Three Coins was going to be decimated?” She snorted. “What an excellent idea. Why on earth did you decide to do that?”

“I’m not a coward. I believe in facing my enemies.”

“All three hundred of them at once?” She shook her head. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”

“I was expecting them to listen to me.” Francis said. “I assumed they might be interested in hearing my plans.”

She walked away from the bed shaking her head and came back with a cup of something that smelled strongly of blackcurrants.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He eyed the cup warily. “Is it brandy?”

“No, it’s blackcurrant cordial and brandy.”

He touched his bruised mouth and attempted to sit up only accomplishing the task when Mrs. Harding helped him. “Thank you. I think two of my ribs might be broken.”

“They are certainly bruised,” she agreed as she handed him the cup. He was thirsty enough to drink whatever she offered him. “If you are in pain I have some laudanum.”

“Disgusting stuff.” He wrinkled his nose and drank the cordial, which had a heavy flavor, and a distinct aftertaste. “I avoid it if I can. I just need something to bind up my ribs, and I can be on my way.”

“It is three o’clock in the morning,” Mrs. Harding objected.

“Then it will be quiet outside.” He held her gaze. “Neither of us wants me to be here, so removing myself is the easiest thing to do.”

“Captain Grafton, as of two hours ago, the square was still full of soldiers and the George and Dragon was under siege by your tenants.” Mrs. Harding crossed her arms over her chest. “You would be better to stay here until the morning and then make your way back.”

“And if I don’t choose to follow your advice?”

She shrugged. “Then I can’t stop you, although I would’ve imagined that bringing down the wrath of Millcastle onto Nancy and Ned Bridgewater and destroying their business might not sit well with you.”

He glared at her and sank back onto his pillows. “Perhaps you might help me bind up my ribs.”

“It would be my pleasure.” She produced a set of neatly rolled bandages. “If you can manage to sit forward and direct me as to where the pain is at its greatest then I am certain we can accomplish it.”

He liked the feel of her hands on him far more than he had expected.

“You should have left me at the bottom of the stairs for the mob to find,” he murmured against her throat.

“I did think about it.” She leaned into his shoulder, her arms around him as she encircled his chest with the bandage. He slowly inhaled the scent of her lavender soap as a wave of dizziness roared through him. “But I owe you this.”

“Owe me?” He looked up into her eyes. “You owe me nothing.”

She regarded him for a long moment, her hands keeping the bandage in place around his ribs. “You saved my life. I am merely returning the favor.”

“Ah, I see.” Another wave of heat rolled over him. “What the devil was in that potion you gave me?”

She smiled. “Enough laudanum to help you sleep and keep you here until the morning.”

“You deliberately drugged me?”

“It was that, or tie you to the bed, and I fear I would’ve enjoyed that far too much and perhaps forgotten to ever release you.”

He slid a hand around her neck holding her still. “Mrs. Harding, despite everything that has happened between us, you continue to amuse and impress me.”

“And, despite everything, I am glad that you still retain your sense of humor, Captain Grafton. Now please go to sleep and we will speak again in the morning.”

Her faint smile was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him.

“Caroline?”

Francis jerked awake as Ruby rushed into the room and stared wildly around.

“Where is she?”

“Well, she isn’t hiding under the bed, so I assume she isn’t here.” Francis replied as he blinked sleep from his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“As if I would tell you. This is all your fault!”

“What is?” Francis sat up with some care and faced Ruby. “If you don’t tell me, how can I help you?”

She wiped at something on her face, and he realized she was struggling not to cry. “It’s Mr. Ford. He’s been arrested.”

“Whatever for?” Francis asked.

“For assaulting you!” She glared at him reminding him forcibly of her sister. “Sir Ian is holding an emergency session of court in order to prosecute those who were taken last night as quickly as possible and send them to the county assizes.”

“Where is this court taking place?”

“In the gaol.”

He pointed at his clothing that was piled up on the chair. “Give me my clothes. Quickly!”

His body was not willing to conform to his clothing, or his desire to move from the bed, but he forced its compliance, cursing bitterly as he put on the clean shirt Caroline must have found for him, and his well-brushed clothing. She’d even cleaned his dammed boots…

He set his teeth and lurched toward the door with Ruby at his side. The stairs looked as daunting as a mountain, but he was determined to descend them even if he had to do it on his arse.

“Where are you going? Ruby, what is it?” He tensed as Caroline’s voice came from the open door of the kitchen.

“Your sister is taking me home. Thank you for your assistance last night. It was much appreciated.”

Francis kept moving. The last thing he needed right now was a confrontation with Caroline Harding.

“But—”

He made it down the stairs, his ribs aching and the rest of his body complaining in equal measure, and set his gaze on the opposite corner of the square. The gaol wasn’t that far away, and he would be able to walk there if Ruby remained by his side.

“Come on.” He looked down at her anxious face. “Let’s see what we can do.”

The street outside the gaol was packed with anxious looking family members and sullen faced workers who were being refused entry into the gaol proper. Francis pushed his way through, and after a quick word with one of the guards, was admitted along with Ruby.

The largest room in the gaol that acted as the courtroom was at the back of the building above the cells and beside the offices. At the door, Francis found the court clerk and beckoned him over.

“Good morning. Can you tell me whether Mr. Jonathan Ford has been sentenced yet?”

“Not yet, sir. As one of the ringleaders, he’s being kept until last.”

“Ah, then I will have a chance to speak when he is brought before Sir Ian.”

“If that is your wish, sir. What name shall I put in the record?’

“Captain Francis Grafton.” He paused. “In fact, make that Viscount Wesley.”

“Oh! Indeed, Captain, I mean, my lord viscount, sir.” The clerk bowed. “It is good of you to attend to the matter in person.”

“One more thing before you go,” Francis said. “Where is the officer who collects payment for the fines?”

“That will be Mr. Woodbine, my lord. He’s sitting in the chamber next door.”

“Thank you.” Francis smiled at the man. “Please let me know when it is my turn to speak.”

He made sure that Ruby was sitting comfortably, and then limped into the other room ignoring the scowls and muttered comments from the men lined up for sentencing.

“Mr. Woodbine?” The elderly man looked up. “May I have a moment of your time?”

When he’d concluded his business with Mr. Woodbine, Francis returned to the courtroom and sat beside Ruby, rising when Sir Ian came in to continue his sentencing. It was remarkably hard to sit there and listen to the hectoring tone of the magistrate and his unnecessarily harsh sentences for men who would never be able to pay their debts when they also lost their jobs. If he ever took his position in local society seriously, he could probably become a magistrate and perhaps deal more humanely with the people who came before him.

Beside him Ruby tensed as Mr. Ford’s name was called out and he was led in. He looked remarkably unscathed from his night in gaol and wore his habitually calm expression.

Sir Ian scowled at the man in front of him. “You are accused of wantonly attacking an innocent man and deliberately inciting a riot. What do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Sir Ian held up a piece of paper. “I have signed statements from three witnesses who saw you attack Captain Grafton and encourage everyone around you to go out and defeat the oppressors.”

“We all know those witnesses are bought and paid for, Sir Ian.”

“You are insolent, Mr. Ford!” Sir Ian glanced around the courtroom as the clerk handed him a note. “I understand that Captain Grafton is here himself as a witness. Are you here, Captain?”

“Yes, I am.” Francis made his way to the front of the room and stood before Sir Ian.

“Do you, Captain Francis Grafton, Viscount Wesley promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Francis placed his hand on the proffered bible. “I do, Sir Ian.”

“Then tell us what this blaggard did to you.” Sir Ian sat back and waved for Francis to proceed.

“Quite simply put, Sir Ian, Mr. Ford saved my life.”

The whole courtroom gasped, and Sir Ian sat bolt upright.

“What?”

“I was set upon by two men I didn’t recognize, and it was only because of Mr. Ford’s quick intervention that I am still alive today. He managed to get the men off me and escorted me back to my office about Madame Louise’s dress shop.”

Francis turned to Mr. Ford and bowed. “Thank you for everything, I will never forget your courage.”

“Then what of the charge that Mr. Ford encouraged those around him to riot?” Sir Ian demanded.

Francis smiled sweetly at the enraged man. “How could he do that when he was no longer in the hall, but helping me get home? Do you doubt the word of a peer of the realm?”

Sir Ian stared at Francis for a long moment, and then banged his gavel. “Despite my concerns, I dismiss the case against Mr. Ford.”

“Thank you, Sir Ian.”

Francis turned toward the exit and beckoned for Ruby to join him. Within moments, Mr. Ford was released and striding to meet them in the crowded hall. Ruby ran and wrapped her arms around him crying inconsolably while Mr. Ford kissed the top of her head and murmured soothingly to her.

Eventually he looked up at Francis who had resorted to leaning against the wall in a last ditch effort to maintain his upright position.

“Viscount Wesley eh?”

“At your service.”

Mr. Ford came over to him and met his gaze. “Why?”

Francis shrugged, which hurt far more than he had anticipated. “Because I might not like you, but you neither tried to kill me, nor started a riot.”

“I hear that you are also paying the fines for anyone who was convicted this morning,” Mr. Ford said.

“If anyone was responsible for starting that riot last night, surely it was I?”

Mr. Ford studied him carefully. “Aye, it was. Can I escort you back to the George? You look about ready to collapse.”

“That would be appreciated.” Francis hesitated. “There is one other matter.”

“What would that be?”

“Can you not tell Mrs. Harding what transpired here today?”

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Ford asked. “Don’t you want her to think well of you?”

“No, I don’t.” He met Mr. Ford’s skeptical gaze full on. “She is done with me, and perhaps it is better if it remains that way. She deserves better.”

“Agreed. To all of it.” Mr. Ford nodded. “Now come on, and I’ll make sure you get to your bed without someone trying to kill you again.”

Chapter 15

Caroline settled into a pew near the rear of the church and listened as the vicar spoke about her father-in-law as a charitable, God-fearing man. She struggled to picture the man depicted with the tyrant who had inflicted such damage on her. If Mr. Harding had been more generous, she and her family would never had ended up in the clutches of Captain Grafton.

She hadn’t seen Captain Grafton since he’d staggered out of her bedroom two weeks ago, thanked her for her help and left without another word. According to gossip, he’d left Millcastle and returned to London, leaving Mr. O’Brien to manage his affairs. She had heard nothing more about the fate of Three Coins, and the town had calmed down again. She’d developed a cordial relationship with Mr. O’Brien, but she hadn’t asked him for any information about her employer or attempted to contact him.

Which was why she’d ended up attending the delayed funeral of a man she’d detested. She needed some distraction from her own thoughts about the infuriating nature of one Captain Francis Grafton, Viscount. Apparently, the gravediggers had been unable to penetrate the ground due to the hard frost, which meant that several burials had been delayed including her father-in-law’s.

Despite the vicar’s claims of Mr. Harding’s warm and caring nature, there were very few people present at his funeral. She recognized his widow and daughter at the front of the pew, and some of the town’s businessmen but that was it.

When the coffin proceeded down the aisle toward the hearse outside, Caroline stood and lowered her veil over her face. She waited until everyone left before she stepped out of her pew. Unfortunately, when she reached the church door, Miss Rebecca Harding was waiting for her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harding, Caroline. Perhaps you would care to accompany my mother and I back to the house while the men attend the burial.”

“As you wish.” Caroline allowed herself to be tenderly assisted into the family carriage by a footman. After years of taking care of herself she’d almost forgotten how it felt to be treated like a precious object.

When they reached the house, she followed Mrs. Harding and Rebecca into the spacious drawing room on the ground floor where a sumptuous buffet had been laid out on the long dining room table.

“Would you care for some tea, Mrs. Harding?” Rebecca inquired. “I doubt they will linger at the cemetery for long in this weather. We will speak to our solicitor after the guests have departed.”

Caroline drew back her veil and took off her gloves but kept everything else with her. She still hadn’t decided whether she would be able to play her part in this particular charade and wanted the means to escape without calling attention to herself.

She took some time exploring the drawing room, pausing at the portrait of her late husband Nigel as a child in a sailor suit. Even though his father had opposed his wishes, he’d always wanted to join the Royal Navy, and had eventually got his way, only to die fairly soon afterward. His father had blamed that tragedy on Caroline as well, but she wasn’t sure why.

The sound of male voices in the hallway drew her attention back to the present, and she braced herself for the ordeal to come. She would channel some of her employer’s arrogance and not pretend she was anything other than herself. Several of the men had business dealings with Captain Grafton, so she knew more about them and their finances than they would ever realize. That knowledge helped her raise her chin and refuse to be cowed.

An hour or so later, Caroline had a headache and a stiff neck, but she was proud of herself. Neither the blatant curiosity nor rudeness of the other guests had bothered her. Her late husband’s family’s ability to pretend she had not existed until the moment she popped up in their drawing room to be grudgingly acknowledged was quite remarkable.

“Mrs. Harding?” Rebecca came to find her. “Please follow me.”

She went into what must have been Mr. Harding’s study and took the offered seat. It still smelled of tobacco, newspaper print, and wet dog. The solicitor waited until everyone was seated before putting on his spectacles and picking up the will with its official seals dangling from it.

Having developed a keen interest in finance since her fall from grace, Caroline listened intently as each bequest was read out and idly calculated her father-in-law’s worth. He’d claimed to be barely surviving when Caroline had approached him, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

“And finally, before we get to the accommodations made for Mrs. Miranda Harding and her daughter Rebecca, we shall turn to the subject of the late Mr. Nigel Harding.”

Caroline sat up straight.

“There appears to have been some… misunderstanding about the contents both of Mr. Nigel Harding’s will, and that of his maternal grandmother’s who left the bulk of her estate directly to him.”

“Misunderstanding?” Caroline spoke up.

“As in that monies that should have come to you, Mrs. Caroline Harding, were inadvertently kept by Mr. Harding’s estate.”

“Mr. Harding informed me that my husband’s will made no mention of a wife. He attempted to claim that my marriage was invalid despite evidence to the contrary.” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that he deliberately deceived me?”

“Oh, hardly that,” the solicitor rushed to reassure her, but Caroline remained unmoved. “It was merely a trifling detail that somehow escaped him.”

“A detail that left me, my mother and my sisters with no money and nowhere to live.” Caroline stared at the solicitor and rose to her feet. “Perhaps we might discuss this matter more privately before I make certain that any future legal matters concerning myself are removed from your jurisdiction.”

The solicitor stood too, his face flushed. “I quite understand, Mrs. Harding.” He handed her an envelope. “The details of your inheritance are in here as is my card. Please do come and visit our offices at your earliest convenience.”

“Thank you.”

After a brisk curtsy to the Harding ladies, Caroline left the house. She reckoned it was less than a mile to walk back to town and decided the time to reflect on what had just occurred would be beneficial to her somewhat ruffled temper.

She’d barely reached the end of the drive before curiosity overcame her and she opened the envelope. Five minutes after that she slowly read the letter for a second time. If the information were accurate, she would never have to worry financially again.

Tears filled her eyes as she folded the letter and put it back in her reticule. She could buy a small house in town—or they could move away completely and live off the income the trust would provide. She would be free for the first time in her life…

It started to rain, and she increased her pace, glad that she had remembered her umbrella. She would go to the solicitors’ office in town tomorrow and make absolutely certain that she understood the terms of the bequests and what her annual income would look like. After that, she would break the news to her mother and sisters—and make it clear that her mother could never touch the capital and beggar them again.

They certainly wouldn’t be rich, but they would live well enough. She came to a halt. If Mr. Harding had done the decent thing and given her access to her husband’s finances right from the start, she would never have learned how it was to be poor or how much of a fighter she was. She would never have encountered Captain Grafton.

But that wasn’t quite true was it? She might have met him at the Hardings, or at a ball, or dinner party. What would he have thought of her then? She doubted she would’ve merited a moment of his fastidious attention. She hadn’t known herself back then, hadn’t survived the worst that life could throw at her. When they had met, during one of the worst moments of her life, he’d recognized that fight in her, challenged her, and made her earn his respect.

She started walking again.

By the time Captain Grafton returned to Millcastle, she might be gone.

She’d never get the satisfaction of telling him what had happened to his face. The thought that she could now throw his offer on employment back at him was surprisingly unsatisfying. He’d probably laugh, be immensely proud of her, and then attempt to persuade her to invest her capital in one of his many financial schemes. Mayhap she could write him a letter, but it wouldn’t be the same.

The rain drummed harder on her umbrella as she skirted a large puddle. There was much to think about and many decisions to make. But until then she would hold the news close to her chest and enjoy it.

“This will do very nicely for us I think.” Caroline walked over to the window and studied the small front garden of the property. “I believe I can buy it outright from the interest accumulated in the investments.”

She turned to her new solicitor Mr. Melksham who nodded.

“Indeed you can, Mrs. Harding, and seeing as this house is quite close to the town square when the railway opens it will surely rise in value.”

He turned to the door and waited for her to precede him down the corridor. “On this floor you also have a dining room, a parlor, a study and a large kitchen with a new stove. Below there are cellars and above, four bedrooms, and two attic rooms.”

“I think I will employ a full-time cook and a housemaid.” Caroline almost sighed with pleasure at the very thought of it. “Perhaps you might help me find some trustworthy persons?”

“Of course, Mrs. Harding.” He paused. “I understand that the current owner has no wish to take the larger pieces of furniture with him, so you might be able to negotiate a deal on them if you like.”

“What an excellent suggestion.”

Caroline liked the way her new solicitor didn’t treat her like an ignoramus. He’d listened to her ideas about how she wished to manage her inheritance, and introduced her to the manager of a new bank just setting up in Millcastle. Evidently, being a widow of means was far preferable to being a wife, or an employee of anyone. Both men had understood her concerns about not allowing her mother access to any of the funds without Caroline’s express approval. She had no intention of allowing Marie to bankrupt them twice, and hadn’t even disclosed the exact sum of her inheritance to her mother.

Having the ability to purchase her own house and fill it with everything she desired felt like a dream. Even though all the formalities had been settled weeks ago, and the money was safely secured in her new bank account, she still woke up in a panic, and had to remind herself that no one could take it away from her again. Sometimes in the darkness she also wished for the comfort of Captain Grafton’s arms around her, but she tried not to dwell on that too much. It made her heart ache. He had left her, and she simply had to find a way to go on without his advice, encouragement, or outright goading.

She took a deep breath and faced Mr. Melksham. “Shall we put in our offer?”

“I think that would be an excellent idea, Mrs. Harding.” Her solicitor smiled at her. “I will prepare the paperwork, and let you know the outcome of our bid as soon as possible.”

She handed back the keys, and walked across the square to inform her family that if all went well they would soon be moving into their own house. If her offer was successful, and she calculated that it would be, she would give Mr. O’Brien a month’s notice in writing, and take her time moving their possessions over to the new place. If she were discreet, perhaps he would not bother to inform their employer that she was leaving.

Caroline paused before she entered the shop. What would she do if Captain Grafton were informed that she no longer wished to live in the apartment? Would he care? Would he try and stop her? After three months of silence she had to doubt that he would. She reminded herself that it didn’t matter anyway, but it was hard to pretend that she could simply stop caring for him. She’d never met a man quite like Captain Francis Grafton, and she doubted she ever would again.

“Have you heard from Captain Grafton, Caroline?” Ruby asked as she handed her sister a cup of tea.

“No, I haven’t.” Caroline sipped her tea and kept her gaze on the list she was writing. She’d been home for three hours, and was still waiting for her mother to come home so she could share her news with everyone at once. “If Captain Grafton has anything he wishes to say to me I’m sure he’ll find a way to communicate his orders through Mr. O’Brien.”

Ruby shared a glance with Jon who had joined them for dinner. “I wanted to share some news with him.”

“You did?” Caroline put down her cup. “About what?”

Ruby pulled a face. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” She glanced over at Jon. “Does this concern you as well?”

“In a way,” he smiled at her. “But probably not how you think.”

Caroline attempted to quell her growing curiosity and merely sniffed. “If you really wish to contact Captain Grafton, write him a letter and ask Mr. O’Brien to send it on for you.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t written to you himself, Caroline,” Jon mused.

“Why? Surely you know we were at odds when he left.” She tried to smile. “He thinks I betrayed him by telling you about the plan to sell Three Coins to the locomotive company.”

“You didn’t tell me anything.” Jon looked up.

“Well, we both know that, but he chose not to believe me, and if there is one thing Captain Grafton values it is loyalty.”

“But you were loyal to him because you didn’t tell me you knew about the deal,” Jon repeated. “Perhaps I’ll write and tell him that.”

“Please don’t’” Caroline said. “If he chooses to run away to London to avoid any unpleasantness in Millcastle then good riddance to him.”

“I thought you liked him, Caroline,” Ivy offered quietly. “And he definitely was very fond of you.”

“He was not. He simply valued my bookkeeping skills,” Caroline said. Ruby laughed out loud, and Caroline scowled at her. “Perhaps we could get back to your original request to contact Captain Grafton. What do you need to tell him?”

Jon, who had been watching her intently, turned to Ruby. “Tell her, lass.”

“But I promised you—”

“Tell her. I think she deserves to know, don’t you?”

“Deserves to know what?” Caroline asked suspiciously.

“Do you remember that the day after the meeting and the so-called riot, a lot of the men were arrested and tried at the gaol?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, of course I remember,” Caroline nodded. “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Jon took Ruby’s hand. “I was arrested.”

“I know,” Caroline said. “Ruby told me you had been released with no charges.”

“And how do you think that happened?”

“Because you were innocent?” Caroline shrugged. “That is usually how justice works.”

“Not for people like us, lass. Captain Grafton came to court and spoke up for me.” Jon held her gaze. “He testified that I’d saved his life and walked him home to his office, so I could not have been involved in any of the violence that followed.”

Caroline slowly closed her mouth and found she had no words. Was that why he’d left with Ruby with hardly a word after she’d tended to his wounds? To speak up on behalf of a man he resented because Caroline still cared for him? Captain Grafton really shouldn’t have been out of bed.

“It was something of a sight to see. Your Captain Grafton threw his rank around, and Sir Ian caved like the lickspittle he is,” Jon continued “And the captain also offered to pay the fines of any men who were convicted of rioting.”

“Why?” Caroline searched Jon’s face.

“That’s exactly what I asked him.” He smiled. “He said that as he started the riot by walking into the hall in the first place, he was responsible for everything that happened afterward.”

She pictured him saying it and found it all too likely. She swallowed hard. “I suppose I should be the one writing a letter and thanking him.”

“For what?” Ruby demanded. “He doesn’t deserve anything!”

“For saving my friend,” Caroline said. “As I said, despite everything, Captain Grafton does value loyalty.” Her voice trembled. “It is a shame that he could never see it in me.”

She gulped for breath and then suddenly it was all too much, the holding it in, the missing him, the wanting… She cried until Ivy came around the table to give her a hug, and Jon handed her his big handkerchief to blow her nose.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline whispered. “I don’t know why I’m crying, and I still don’t know why you need to contact him.”

“The workers committee wishes to express their thanks, and some of the men want to know if they can repay their debts,” Ruby said. “I was asked to write the letter because of my acquaintance with him.”

“Then you should really talk to Mr. O’Brien—although I suspect the thought of being thanked for anything would make Captain Grafton recoil in horror.” In a frantic effort to pretend that everything was all right. Caroline scrubbed away her tears

“He certainly prefers to be seen as a more fearsome creature.” Jon’s smile died. “There is something else. The eviction notices for Three Dials have started to go out.”

Caroline sighed. “Yes, Mr. O’Brien told me that would soon be happening. Are you hoping to appeal to Captain Grafton’s better nature to make him stop?”

“Isn’t it worth a try?” Jon asked. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“The railway contract has been signed, and the Act of Parliament is imminent. I don’t think he is going to change his mind on this one.”

“But we’ll try regardless, lass, aye?” Jon patted her shoulder as he stood up. “Thank you for dinner. Don’t get up. Ruby’s going to walk me down the stairs.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Nancy placed a bowl of bread rolls on the table beside Francis who pretended not to hear her. “I thought you said you were done with this place.”

“I am.” Francis grabbed a roll and split it open with his fingers before dunking it into his lamb stew. It was just past noon, he’d ridden up from London overnight, and he was in no mood for an inquisition.

Nancy sat down opposite him, her chin propped up on her hand, and observed him. “But you’re here at my table, eating my good food, so what made you return to the town you loathe?” She chuckled. “Not that you need to tell me. I have a fair idea what’s brought you back with your tail between your legs.”

“My tail has nothing to do with it,” Francis muttered as he chewed on the bread.

“Your prick then?” She nodded as if she found the whole idea highly amusing. “You can’t keep away from her, can you?”

He finally looked up. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Matters appertaining to the locomotive company have proceeded faster than I anticipated, and I need to speak to Mr. Fletcher at his earliest convenience.”

“Using fancy words doesn’t change anything.” Nancy stood and wiped her hands on her apron. “Whatever you do, don’t venture into Three Coins, will you?”

Francis snorted. “Don’t worry, I have no desire to forfeit my life.” He finished his stew and wiped the bowl with another piece of bread. “Is Mr. O’Brien here?”

“He’s moved over to your office above the dressmakers.”

“When did he do that?” Francis frowned as he pushed the bowl away. “I certainly didn’t give him permission.”

“Maybe he likes being close to Mrs. Harding.” Nancy winked at him. “Maybe someone had better get over there and stake his claim before it’s too late.”

“Stake my claim? What in God’s name are you talking about now, woman?”

“Your Mrs. Harding.”

He met her amused gaze. “She certainly isn’t mine, but I cannot imagine her falling into the arms of Daniel O’Brien. She’d scare him to death.”

Nancy tutted and shook her head. “Jealousy is a terrible thing.”

Francis didn’t even attempt to reply to that outrageous comment, mainly because she knew him too well and regrettably it was too close to the mark.

“I’m not talking about Mr. O’Brien.” Nancy gathered his bowl and spoon onto the tray. “I’ve heard rumors that Mrs. Harding is leaving Millcastle.”

Francis went still. “And going where exactly?”

Nancy shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her yourself, won’t you?”

After bathing and changing his clothes, Francis walked across the square to the rear of the dressmakers and used his key to enter the building and climb the stairs to his offices. He paused at the top landing, aware of the unusual silence. Was Nancy right? Had Caroline and her family left their lodgings?

“Captain Grafton!” He looked around to see Daniel O’Brien beaming at him from the door of his office. “I wasn’t expecting you, sir.”

“Obviously,” Francis murmured as he went into the familiar room. “When did you decide to take possession of my office?”

“Well, sir, the inn wasn’t the best place for receiving new clients. Some of them refused to even enter an establishment where spirits were served.”

“Bloody Methodists.” Francis sat down in his chair. “I need to speak to Mr. Fletcher. Can you arrange that?”

“Yes, Captain Grafton.” His agent picked up his hat. “I’ll go and attend to the matter right now.

“Before you go, Mr. O’Brien. Where is Mrs. Harding?”

“I believe she is speaking to her new solicitor, sir. She’ll be back shortly.”

“What solicitor?” Francis asked the empty office as Mr. O’Brien disappeared. “What the devil has been going on since I left?”

“I’m back, Mr. O’Brien. Did anyone wish to speak to me while I was gone?” Caroline attempted to untie a knot in the ribbon of her new bonnet as she went into Mr. O’Brien’s office. When she finally succeeded in pulling it free she glanced over at the desk and froze.

“Captain Grafton!”

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “You look very nice. Did I suddenly increase your wages?”

“Not that I am aware of.” She fought down the urge to bolt and faced him, drinking in the signs of tiredness under his eyes, and the rigid set of his unshaven jaw. Had he come back to her? A flicker of hope stirred low in her stomach.

“Then why all this new finery?” he asked.

“I don’t believe my wardrobe choices have anything to do with you, Captain Grafton.” She smiled even though it made her heart hurt. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes. Mrs. Bridgewater informs me that you are leaving Millcastle.”

“And again, I would remind you that my personal decisions have nothing to do with you.”

“I employ you.” He pointed out. “Surely you should’ve informed me if you were planning on leaving—or were you too busy skimming excess funds off my books to buy pretty new bonnets?”

“I have never cheated you.” She gestured at her office across the corridor. “Please feel free to check my accounting at your leisure!”

“I will, thank you.” He considered her, one finger tapping out an impatient rhythm on the arm of his chair. “What is going on?”

She opened her mouth to offer him the same tart answer, and he held up his hand.

“Don’t play games, Mrs. Harding. Tell me the truth.”

“The truth? When you won’t believe me anyway and have just accused me of attempting to cheat you?” Caroline took a step toward him, her faint hope of a passionate reunion turning to ashes. “Perhaps I will answer your questions if you answer one of mine.”

“Ask away.” He shrugged. “Unlike you, I have nothing to hide.”

“Then why did you come back? You said you wouldn’t return to Millcastle in the foreseeable future, and yet here you are.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I came to see Mr. Fletcher.”

“To order him to speed up the evictions?” Caroline asked. He didn’t want her-didn’t care what happened to her. She summoned her anger to dash every thought that he might have cared for her from her mind. “Everyone in Three Coins is waiting on that order. How do you intend to enforce it? Call out the militia and drag people out of their homes?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You should know me better than that.”

“I thought I did. You delight in proving me wrong.” She curtsied. “Now I have work to do. Please excuse me.”

She was at the door before he spoke again. “I’m not finished.”

“Well, I am.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Loyalty goes both ways, Captain Grafton. You demand it and offer nothing in return. My resignation letter will be on your desk by this evening.”

She walked out, shutting the door carefully behind her. After a moment’s indecision, she went down the stairs, out into the square, and gulped in some air. She couldn’t stand to see him smile at her because, despite everything, she wanted to share her news, watch his reaction and celebrate with him. He was the only person alive who would really appreciate her good fortune, and she could no longer reach him behind that wall of pride and arrogance. How could she possibly stay in Millcastle if he was determined to remain there when she was so drawn to him?

She was a fool, but Captain Grafton didn’t need to know that. After a quick glance around, she headed toward Three Coins. She had business there, and she reckoned that it was the one place Captain Grafton would never set foot.

Francis stared at the closed door.

“That went well.”

He spoke into the silence. Why in God’s name had he allowed her to drag him into a pointless argument about her clothing and the railway rather than simply tell her the truth? That he’d come back to Millcastle because of her? Nancy damn well knew it. Why didn’t Caroline?

“Because you are afraid to tell her.” His words sounded even worse when said aloud. “For the first time in your life, you are being a complete coward over one woman’s opinion of you.”

A knock on the door had him straightening up. Had she returned to berate him further? Maybe fate was offering him a second chance. “Come in.”

His agent came in accompanied by Mr. Fletcher.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Francis gestured at the chairs. “Please sit down. I understand that things have progressed rather more quickly than we were anticipating.”

“Indeed, Captain.” Mr. Fletcher sat forward. “We have our initial financing in place, and permission to proceed from the government. We’d like to break ground as soon as possible.”

Mr. O’Brien cleared his throat. “There is just the slight problem of the tenants in Three Coins. Almost all of them are still in place claiming they have nowhere else to go.”

“They don’t,” Francis said shortly. “Who sent the eviction notices out?”

“I told Mr. O’Brien to do that, Captain,” Mr. Fletcher spoke up.

“You should have consulted me first.” Francis said. “That was our agreement.”

“With all due respect, you were not here, Captain, and my board wished to proceed as quickly as possible.”

“Then seeing as you have already reneged on the terms of our agreement should I consider it broken?” Francis studied Mr. Fletcher, who visibly paled. “Perhaps the only solution is to take you to court and sue for the return of the land I sold to you under certain very specific, reciprocal, conditions.”

“Captain Grafton, there is no need to take things that far,” Mr. Fletcher protested. “We intend to honor all of our commitments to you.”

“Then perhaps you should reread the agreement and start construction where I asked you to.” Francis stood up. “Until you can offer me an affirmative answer on that question, Mr. Fletcher, I will be consulting my solicitor. Good afternoon.”

Mr. Fletcher left in some haste. Mr. O’Brien closed the door behind him and faced Francis.

“I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“I know and I’m glad you wrote to tell me what was going on.” Francis grimaced. “And now I’ll have to deal with Three Coins again. Hopefully this time I can emerge unscathed.”

“I’m coming back with you.” Jon put on his hat and coat. He’d just returned from attending chapel with his mother and was dressed in his finest. “If Captain Grafton is here, he needs to listen to what I have to say.”

“He does not have to listen to anything!” Caroline almost stamped her foot in frustration. “If you will just wait. I’ll set up a proper meeting between you, the rest of the workers committee, and Captain Grafton. There’s no need to provoke him when he’s already in the most unpleasant mood.”

Jon glanced down at her as he opened the door and stepped into the street outside his mother’s house. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“You know I do,” Caroline grumbled as she walked alongside him. “I was going to suggest he offer you my job, and this won’t endear you to him.”

“That’s very kind of you, lass.” He sighed. “Because of my involvement with the unions and the Methodist Church I suspect my days at the mill are numbered. Having another job would be an answer to my prayers, but I can’t abandon everyone in Three Coins just for my own selfish benefit.”

He paused as they entered the square. “Look, that’s Mr. Fletcher from the locomotive company coming out of the dressmakers. He doesn’t look very happy does he?”

“As I mentioned, Captain Grafton is in a terrible mood,” Caroline repeated. “I doubt he will be very receptive to any proposal you have to make to him.”

To her surprise he grinned at her. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained lass. Come on.”

She followed him up the stairs only to discover that Ruby had returned from Mrs. Sims’ and was waiting for them outside Captain Grafton’s office, arms crossed over her chest in a very determined fashion.

“Are you intending to speak to Captain Grafton, Jon?” Ruby asked.

“Yes.” Jon glanced briefly at Caroline before smiling at Ruby.

“Then I will come with you. He hasn’t replied to the letter I sent, so this is a perfect opportunity to confront him.”

Caroline knocked on the door and opened it. “Captain Grafton? You have visitors.”

She stepped back and let Jon and Ruby pass into the office before closing the door and walking across the corridor to her own room. She had a resignation letter to write and plans to put into effect. Jon and Ruby were perfectly capable of dealing with Captain Grafton without her help, and the less she had to look at him, the easier her decision making would be.

Francis waited until Mr. Ford and Ruby took their seats before turning to his agent. “You should probably stay and listen to this.”

He then addressed Mr. Ford. “I had just asked Mr. O’Brien to go and find you.”

“Why’s that Captain?” Mr. Ford asked. “Did you think I’d help you talk your tenants out of their homes?”

Francis sighed. “No, I hoped that you might ask them to attend a meeting at the hall tonight.”

“You want to be beaten up again?” Mr. Ford shook his head. “Fair enough, but I can’t guarantee I’ll save you this time.”

“I want to tell them what’s going on.” Francis insisted.

“They know what’s going on. They’ve all been served with eviction notices.” Mr. Ford looked over at Daniel O’Brien. “He handed them out.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I returned,” Francis said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen quite like that.”

The skepticism on the two faces in front of him was unmistakable.

“I also wanted to thank you for your letter, Ruby,” Francis continued.

“The one you didn’t reply to?” Ruby asked.

“By the time I received it, I had already decided to come back to Millcastle. Please let it be known that I appreciate the thanks of the workers committee, and I don’t require repayment.”

“Caroline said you’d say that,” Ruby said.

“Mrs. Harding knows me well.”

Ruby fixed him with an intimidating stare. “She obviously knows you better than you know her. How on earth could you think she would betray your secrets to Jon?”

Francis blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“You accused Caroline of telling Jon about the deal to sell Three Coins, but she didn’t.”

Mr. Ford cleared his throat. “Ruby is correct, Captain. I knew about the financial agreement from a worker at the bank. Mrs. Harding said nothing to me.”

“Which in my opinion was a mistake,” Ruby interjected. “But she is stupidly loyal to you, even though you don’t appreciate her at all.”

Francis glanced from Jon to Ruby. His dealings with them were not proceeding quite as he had expected or planned.

“Perhaps we might get back to the matter in hand? Will you at least attempt to get my tenants to the meeting hall tonight?” Francis asked. “They will hear something to their advantage.”

Mr. Ford eyed him dubiously. “I’d much rather you told me what’s what right now so that I have something to convince them with.”

“Won’t the mere fact that they can throw rotten eggs and stones at me entice them in?” Francis asked.

“Of course it will, but a few hard facts wouldn’t come amiss either.”

Francis beckoned to his agent. “Will you be so good as to get out the plans?” He waited until the paper was unfolded and covered the top of his desk. “Now, here is Three Coins…”

Chapter 16

“I don’t see why I have to attend this meeting,” Caroline carried on objecting even as Ruby and Ivy walked her across the square to the meeting hall. I have no desire to see Captain Grafton or hear him speak.”

Ruby squeezed her arm. “He wanted you to come.”

“And you do his bidding now? Last week you were wishing him to perdition.”

“Jon wanted you to come as well.”

Caroline sighed as they approached the open doorway. The hall was almost full, and the atmosphere wasn’t pleasant. Why Captain Grafton continued to invite possible death by confronting his tenants, Caroline would never know.

She’d left her resignation letter on his desk, but he hadn’t been back to his office. She pictured him at the George sitting by the fire, reading, biding his time before he stood up in front of a completely hostile crowd…

“Jon saved us seats.” Ruby took her hand and led her firmly up the side of the hall. “Come on. It’s almost time to start.”

The workers committee, including Jon, and the Methodist minister were already established on the platform. There was no sign of Captain Grafton. Caroline spotted Jon’s mother in the crowd and received a small nod of recognition.

The minister opened the meeting with a prayer and a plea for tolerance that Caroline suspected wouldn’t count for much with the tenants of Three Coins. The door behind the dais opened, and Captain Grafton came out and mounted the steps to stand at the lectern. He wore a dark blue coat and his linen was a crisp white. He looked remarkably calm and was even faintly smiling.

“Good evening. I’m Captain Grafton.”

Caroline held her breath as he looked around the room like a king demanding obedience. Caroline was torn between admiring his bravery and lamenting his breathtaking arrogance.

“Most of you received eviction notices this past week. As you probably know, the area of Three Coins is being redeveloped to provide a locomotive station, a grand hotel, and a staging yard for the goods trains.”

“Because you bloody sold them the land,” someone shouted out.

“Yes I did.” Captain Grafton met the attack unflinchingly. “But with certain conditions.”

“That you clear out your tenants. We understand, Captain. You’re not the first landlord to turn out people who rent from him.”

There was a roar of agreement from the rest of the crowd.

“The eviction notices were sent out too early.” Captain Grafton easily raised his voice above the noise generations of privilege etched in his tone. “And not with my consent.”

Silence fell, and people started looking at each other in confusion.

“So, we don’t have to move?”

“In time, yes, but not until the land I was granted in exchange for Three Coins is properly developed.”

“Developed into what?” The same man asked.

“New housing.” Captain Grafton raised an eyebrow as if everyone around him was being stupid. “What else? As soon as the buildings are habitable, the original tenants of Three Coins will get first refusal on new lodgings.” He turned to the gentlemen sitting behind him. “The workers committee has all the details and will be assisting me and my agent Mr. O’Brien in this transfer.”

Another man stood up. “Where is this land?”

“It’s directly below the site of the new cotton mill Mr. Marsham is building, so less than half a mile from here.”

“And how high are you going to make the new rents?”

“If you take the same accommodation then your rent will remain the same for the first year.” Captain Grafton shrugged. “After that? Rents will rise in line with the local market.”

He briefly met Caroline’s startled gaze over the heads of the audience and then moved on. “Mr. O’Brien will also be aided by Mr. Ford in this matter. I assume you will trust him even if you do not trust me.”

He turned to the minister. “Perhaps you might lay the plans out on the dais so everyone can see for themselves?”

“I will, Captain Grafton.”

Caroline turned, and despite Ruby’s whispers, walked out of the hall into the dark night beyond. She was unlocking the back door of the dress shop when someone came up behind her.

“Why did you leave?”

She didn’t turn around as Captain Grafton followed her up the stairs.

“I heard what you had to say. It was most impressive.”

“And thus rather unlike me?”

“No.” She turned to look at him as she took off her bonnet and gloves. “It didn’t surprise me at all. You are rarely predictable.”

“What if I told you I did it for you?”

She went still and tried to read his face in the shadows of the corridor. “Why would you do that?”

“What if I wished to impress you?” He moved restlessly into his office and threw his hat and gloves onto the nearest chair.

“Choosing to stand up there in front of a roomful of aggrieved tenants was quite impressive,” she reluctantly allowed.

“The benefit of an English public school education—the ability to face down any baying mob of foreigners.” He half-smiled, all grace and lethal elegance. “I never thought it would come in handy in Millcastle of all places.”

He lit a candle from the embers of the fire and placed it on the corner of his desk before picking up the letter she’d left him and reading it through.

Caroline tensed as he looked up at her. “What if I don’t accept your resignation?”

“I’ll just leave anyway.”

“And go where?”

“Wherever I please.” She held his gaze. “You can hardly expect me to stay if you intend to live here yourself.”

“Why not?”

“Because you…” She tried to gather her thoughts and struggled mightily. “Because I—”

He came over to where she stood and looked down at her. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I repaid my debt. You no longer have any right to tell me what to do.”

“But I want to.” He cupped her chin. “I want to be the only man in your life, the only one you smile at, and definitely the only one you fuck.”

“Then you are being unreasonable.” She tried to speak calmly, but it was hard when everything inside her wanted to yield to him and give him everything he demanded.

“I didn’t come back to sort out this mess with Three Coins. I came back for you.” His thumb grazed her mouth, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I tried to forget you in London, but no other woman felt right, and eventually I gave up even trying to pretend otherwise.”

Caroline stared into his amber eyes and whispered, “What exactly are you saying?”

A small frown appeared in his brow. “That I want you, dammit! I want all of it, all of you.”

“But I don’t want to be your mistress again.”

“Then what about being my wife?” He cleared his throat. “Good Lord, even hearing myself uttering those words makes me wonder if I’m right in the head.”

Caroline discovered a hysterical desire to laugh at the horror in his voice.

“Then please forget you said it. I promise I’ll never tell a soul.” She attempted to ease out of his arms. “I’m rather tired, actually, and I have a lot of packing to do, so I’ll wish you good night.”

“You are not going anywhere.” He tightened his grip. “Now that I’ve said the words, I realize I mean them. Will you consent to be my wife?”

“I’ll have to think about it.” This time she managed to push him away, but only because he yielded. She headed for the door, taking the candle with her and leaving him in the dark. “Good night.”

She was smiling when she reached her bedroom door, and not at all surprised when he doggedly followed her inside.

“Caroline…”

She let down her hair and eased out the kinks with her fingers before taking off the jacket that matched her skirt. Joy coalesced inside her and she barely managed to contain it as Captain Grafton stayed by the door, his gaze fixed on her in a most gratifying manner.

“Tell me what you want,” he said hoarsely.

She sashayed toward him and presented him with her back. “Could you possibly help me with my laces?”

“Of course, but—”

“Thank you.”

She let out her breath as the corset loosened, removed her petticoats, and stepped out of her drawers leaving her in just her shift. His breathing was ragged in the quietness of the room.

“You can leave now,” Caroline suggested demurely.

“You know damn well I’m not going anywhere.” He ripped off his cravat and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. “If I can’t be inside you very shortly, I fear I might die.”

She went over to the bed and sat on the edge watching him strip to reveal the body she’d been dreaming about in all its lean thoroughbred glory. She almost sighed with delight but was determined not to give him too much encouragement. Having him at her mercy was far too much fun.

He strode over to her, his cock already hard, and dropped to his knees, spreading her thighs with his shoulders.

The first touch of his tongue on her core almost made her gasp. She’d missed him. She’d missed this.

“God…” he breathed against her most tender flesh. “The taste of you.”

He continued licking and arousing her until her fingers tangled in his hair urging him on, holding him in place as she took her pleasure from his talented mouth.

With a muffled curse, he rose to his feet, climbed onto the bed, and lay on his back.

“Take me.”

Caroline looked down at him and considered her choices before crawling over and straddling his thighs. Her breasts swung gently just above his face, and he eased forward to suck and tease her nipples.

“Take me inside you.” He cupped his cock with one hand bringing it away from his stomach. “Ride me, own me.”

“Own you?” Caroline asked.

“If you marry me, I’ll be yours.” His golden eyes met hers unflinchingly. “I’m not a good man, you know that, but if you agree to be my wife, I promise never to look at another woman.”

“Look?” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine you not looking, but touching? I’d probably kill you.”

“And I’d deserve it.” He hesitated. “Will you please fuck me? I can’t think properly when I’m half-crazed with lust.”

“But I don’t want to ‘fuck’,” Caroline said softly. “Surely there is more to what we do together than that?”

“You know there is.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

She leaned down to kiss his mouth and raised her hips to allow him to slide deep inside her. They both groaned as Caroline came around his stiff shaft, and he wrapped his arm around her waist drawing her upright.

Being on top of him, owning him was rather thrilling, even if she did feel a little exposed. The worshipful expression on his face as he guided her to rise and fall around his cock was worth every hint of embarrassment and soon forgotten in the driving need to come as he played with her, teasing yet another climax out of her before she fell forward against his chest.

Even as she gasped his name he rolled her over and thrust into her so powerfully that the bedframe creaked in protest. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on, his anchor in the storm, her everything.

“God…” Francis came so hard he almost passed out, but he couldn’t stop pounding into her until he had nothing left to give. He eased away, and she followed like she was part of him until he drew her into his arms and held her close.

It took a while for his heartbeat to slow down and his breathing to return to normal. He stroked her now tangled hair, and she nuzzled his throat.

“So will you marry me?” She bit his neck, and he winced. “Good Lord, woman.”

“Don’t spoil it,” she murmured. “I need to sleep.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Only if you give me permission to wake you up later and make love to you again.”

She sighed against his skin. “Oh, that’s much nicer.”

“Making love?” He considered the words. “Well that is what we do in our own unique fashion, isn’t it?”

“When we’re not fighting.”

“Ah, but fighting leads to more lovemaking when we make up.” He closed his eyes as an unaccustomed sense of peace flooded through him. “And, by the way, seeing as you did not protect yourself, if you are now carrying my child, you will marry me because you have morals even if I don’t.”

“Francis…”

“Yes, Caroline?”

“You are a horrible man.”

He smiled into the darkness. “I know.”

He woke up much later when a patch of light stole through the curtains and landed right on his face. It took him a few puzzled moments to work out where he was, and then he smiled. He was in Caroline Harding’s bed, and everything was right with his world. His tenants would be rehoused, the building of the station would make him even richer, and soon he would have a wife.

He sat up noting the disorder of the bed and the scent of their lovemaking. True to his promise he had woken Caroline twice, and she’d been more than happy to accommodate his desires.

She still hadn’t agreed to marry him though…

He sat on the side of the bed, his gaze drawn to the dressing table that was normally covered with Caroline’s things and was now completely bare. With a curse, he stood up and went over to the chest of drawers. Opening a drawer at random, he realized it was empty. A quick survey of the rest of the chest and the cupboards indicated that all traces of Caroline’s belongings had been removed.

Had they been there last night? The place had been very quiet, but he’d had eyes only for her, and hadn’t noticed many piddling details.

He splashed water over his face and body, and quickly got dressed before striding down the hallway to the Harding’s kitchen. He knocked and went in to find nobody there, and the fire not lit.

Had the whole family vanished right under his nose? Francis checked the bedrooms, which were also, empty and cursed in a manner in which Caroline would not have approved.

“Where the devil is she?” He asked out loud, not expecting a reply. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

“Thank you, Mr. Melksham.” Caroline shook her solicitor’s hand and accompanied him back to the front door. “I appreciate everything you have done for me.”

“A pleasure, Mrs. Harding.” He bowed and put on his hat. “I look forward to serving you in the future for all your legal requirements.”

Caroline returned to the drawing room to gather up the tea tray. She took it through to the kitchen where her new cook was busy stocking her pantry while ordering the maid around.

“You didn’t need to do that ma’am.” Nelly the maid came rushing forward. “I would’ve come for it if you’d rung the bell.”

Caroline smiled kindly at the young orphan girl Jon had found to work for her. “I wanted to see how everything was in the kitchen, so it was no hardship.”

In truth, it would probably take them all a while to remember that they now had live-in staff to help them with the basics of life. Her mother would soon be ordering everyone around just like she had in India. Shy Ivy would probably find it more difficult and Ruby would probably insist on still doing everything herself.

The house sat on the opposite side of town to the mills and slums in a road populated by those engaged in professions or the higher levels of trade. Her neighbor was a physician and had three children who played outside in the extensive garden whenever the weather allowed. She’d been given the keys two weeks previously, well before Francis had arrived to disrupt her, and had gently persuaded and eventually nagged the other members of her family to move in.

If her mother wanted to remain at the dressmakers, she could easily walk there or use a hackney cab. Caroline suspected that Marie was quite eager to stay home and enjoy the luxury of being free from debt and the shame of being obliged to earn her own living.

After talking to Cook and making sure that despite the disruptions she would be able to offer them a cooked dinner, Caroline returned to the drawing room where Ruby and Ivy now awaited her.

Ruby was pacing the new rug by the fire, her arms folded over her chest. “I still don’t understand why you moved us here.”

“Because that was our plan,” Caroline said patiently. “Don’t you remember all the discussions we had? How we chose the furnishings of this house together and set up your bedrooms just as you wanted them?”

“But that was before Captain Grafton came back.” Ruby flung herself into a chair. “I thought—”

“You thought what?” Caroline inquired. “That his return would magically make everything different?”

“He came back to make things right!” Ruby glared at Caroline. “You know that! We also know you were with him last night in our old lodgings.”

Caroline blushed. “That has nothing to do with—”

Ruby threw up her hands. “For goodness sake, Caroline! You care for Captain Grafton, why not admit it?”

Ivy chuckled and they both looked at her. “Of course she cares for him, Ruby. That’s why she’s here.”

Caroline smiled at Ivy. “Well, that is part of it,” she acknowledged. “Captain Grafton has a tendency to order everyone around and expect to be instantly obeyed. He has no idea that my circumstances have changed so dramatically.”

“He doesn’t know?” Ruby asked slowly.

“I certainly didn’t mention anything to him,” Caroline said. “Did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” It was Ruby’s turn to smile at her sisters. “Well, perhaps I was wrong after all. I wonder how long it will take him to work things out?”

Francis walked in and glared at Daniel and Mr. Ford who were working together in Mrs. Harding’s old office. “Where are they?”

“Who?” Mr. Ford looked up.

“You know damn well who,” Francis snapped. “The entire Harding family.”

“Did they not inform you of their plans?”

“If they had, do you think I’d be standing here asking you?”

Mr. Ford smiled. “If they didn’t choose to tell you, I can hardly tell you myself now, can I?”

Ignoring Mr. Ford, Francis focused on his agent. “Do you know where they are?”

“I do not, Captain. Mrs. Harding gave notice on her lodgings a month ago, but didn’t offer a forwarding address.”

“A month ago, and you didn’t think to tell me about it?” Francis fumed. “Wonderful.”

“I did hear back from Mr. Fletcher, Captain,” Daniel said in a placatory tone. “He has agreed to abide by the original contract.”

“About damned time,” Francis muttered. “Good day, gentlemen.”

He collected his hat and went down the stairs to the dressmakers. There was no sign of Mrs. Delisle or either of Caroline’s sisters anywhere in the shop. Madame herself was unavailable to comment on the matter being engaged with clients. He went out into the square and made his way across to the bank where he was greeted effusively by the manager and taken into his office.

Within half an hour, he exited the bank feeling far more hopeful and went back to the George to have his horse saddled. Nancy came out of the kitchen to ask him what he was doing, but he didn’t tell her. He’d have enough of people laughing at him for one day.

As the major roads were still blocked with snow, he encountered few large vehicles as he made his way through a maze of country roads and pathways to his old home. Leaving his horse in the stables in the care of Mr. Potts, he went to his mother’s favorite sitting room and knocked on the door. Her start of surprise when she saw him made him feel like the intruder he was.

“Mother.” He bowed. “I do apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She rose from her desk and came toward him. “Is something wrong? Are you in trouble? How can I help you?”

He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong. I just wanted to… talk to you about something.”

“Talk to me?” she repeated his words as if in a daze. “Oh! Of course! Please sit down, and I’ll order some tea.”

He waited until she settled in the chair opposite him and tried to think how to proceed. There was far too much he needed to straighten out with her, but he didn’t have the time to go through it all today.

“This is going to sound rude.” He cleared his throat. “But do you still have the betrothal ring my maternal grandmother left to the estate?”

His mother opened and closed her mouth several times before managing a reply. “Yes, I do still have it.” She paused again. “Do you… want it?”

“Yes.” He rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “You will think me quite mad.”

“You intend to marry?”

“Yes,” Francis nodded.

“May I ask who?”

“You met her.”

“Mrs. Harding? She told me she worked as a bookkeeper for you, and that was all.”

“If that was all she was prepared to admit to, I can’t say I blame her.” Francis said. “She is a widow of a naval officer, and her father served with the army in India. She is perfectly respectable.”

“I met her, Francis. I already know that she is a lady.” His mother hastened to continue. “Not that it matters in the slightest because that decision is entirely up to you.”

“Mother, it does matter to you, but I can guarantee that, unlike me, she will not disgrace our family name.”

“As to that…” She sighed. “It was all a long time ago, but I wish I’d read your letters explaining what happened at the time rather than blindly accepting your father’s explanation as to why you should be banished from our family.”

“You didn’t read my letters?” Francis asked slowly, his attention momentarily distracted from his purpose “Why not?”

“You didn’t write directly to me.” She shrugged. “I only saw them after your father died, and by then it was too late to right any wrongs even though I tried.”

“Because I had decided not to communicate with you either.” Francis sighed. “I was glad when Father died, I won’t pretend otherwise.”

“He was a hard man,” His mother said. “And he was especially hard on you.”

Francis forced a smile. “Perhaps when things are more settled we can discuss this more.”

“Yes of course. I will fetch the ring for you, directly.” She stood up. “It won’t take a moment. If the tea arrives when I am gone, please help yourself.”

Francis let out his breath as she exited the room, amazed at his mother’s heroic restraint. Was she currently gnashing her teeth in rage or dancing a jig in celebration? It was impossible to tell. All he knew was that she was trying very hard not to alienate him, which made him feel slightly ashamed, seeing as he deserved everything he’d got. Coming back home had affected him in so many ways, not least in reminding him that everyone failed occasionally and that he certainly had. His mother had been brought up to obey the dictates of a society that was rapidly disappearing. She’d done what she thought was best at the time, and he no longer had the energy or desire to keep hating her for it.

“Here you are, darling.” She came back in just as he was pouring himself some more tea. “It is quite exquisite.” She glanced down at her left hand. “In truth, as the heir, you should really have the Grafton betrothal ring, but I fear it would have to be cut off my finger at this point.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mother. I always preferred this one.” Francis opened the velvet box and studied the diamond and ruby ring. “I hope to God Caroline likes it.”

“If it doesn’t fit, it can be resized by a jeweler.”

“Thank you.” He shut the box and slid it into his coat pocket. “I appreciate I your help, and now I have to go.”

Her face fell and then she returned to her seat. “Perhaps you might bring Mrs. Harding to dinner one night?”

“If you wish.” The thread of hope in her voice made him squirm. “She has two sisters and a mother.”

“Then, they can all come.” She smiled at him. “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

He finished his tea in one gulp and smiled at her. “Not yet. I have to convince her to marry me first She is proving remarkably resistant to the idea.” He went over and kissed her rose scented cheek. “Thank you for being so kind to me today. I don’t deserve it.”

She reached up and patted his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time for a new start, Francis, for both of us. Please come back soon.”

“I will.”

Francis walked back through the house, and for the first time ever imagined what it would be like to live there again, with Caroline at his side…

“Hmmph.” His snort echoed around the ancient medieval hall. Perhaps he should stop his fanciful dreaming and focus on recovering his reluctant bride.

Chapter 17

“There’s a gentleman to see you, Mrs. Harding.” Nelly bobbed a curtsy from the door of the drawing room.

“Did he give his name?” Caroline put down her darning, her heart already thumping. It was the evening of the same day when she’d left Captain Grafton asleep in her old bed and tiptoed back to her new home. Millcastle wasn’t a large town. She was rather surprised that he hadn’t shown up earlier.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Nelly hurried over. “He gave me his card.”

Caroline turned the thick white card with its bold engraving over in her hand. “Please ask Captain Grafton to come in and bring us some tea.”

“Yes, Mrs. Harding.”

She stood by the fireplace, gathering her resources. Marie had gone up to bed early, and Ivy and Ruby were out with Jon attending a lecture at the Methodist Hall.

“Good evening, Mrs. Harding.” He came in and bowed low. His mere presence made the drawing room shrink in size. He wore his favorite dark blue coat and looked worn to the bone. “May I congratulate you on the purchase of such a charming dwelling?”

“Thank you.” She indicated the chair opposite hers. “Would you care for some tea? Nelly is just bringing me some.”

He took the seat and drummed his fingers on his knee.

“It would’ve been nice of you to tell me that you’ve moved out.”

“I told Mr. O’Brien. That’s all I was required to do.” She smiled at him. “I don’t think you will have any trouble letting the place over the shop. Both Mr. O’Brien and Mr. Ford expressed interest in the rooms themselves.”

“Then I’ll have to see to sealing that door up—permanently.” He studied his muddy boots. “I intend to employ Mr. Ford in your present position.”

“And leave me with nothing to do?” Caroline asked.

“Hardly.”

She hid a smile as Nelly came in with the tea. It was remarkably pleasant to see him at a loss, and she was, perhaps, enjoying it more than she should.

“Did you call on me for something specific, Captain or just to assure yourself that my family weren’t languishing in the workhouse?”

“You know damn well why I came.”

She widened her eyes. “In truth, I have no idea.”

“Caroline, I have had a very trying day, from waking up alone in your bed with no idea what had become of you, to rushing around Millcastle trying to find you—”

“You rushed around for me?” She pressed her palm to her bosom. “Goodness gracious.”

He scowled at her. “I even braved my mother’s company.”

That caught her interest. “Whatever for?”

“For this.” He came out of his chair, knelt at her feet, and took her left hand, sliding a ring onto her finger. “Please marry me.”

Caroline looked down at the huge diamond and ruby ring. “Where on earth did you get this?”

“I told you. I went to see my mother and asked her for my grandmother’s ring.”

“And she just gave it to you?”

“I’m the heir.” He shrugged with his usual arrogance. “Of course she did.”

She gazed at the ring for a long time, and then started to ease it off her finger. His hand instantly closed over hers.

“Don’t.” He hesitated. “For God’s sake just tell me what I have to do to make you marry me. Please.”

She considered their joined hands. Both of them had scars, burns and work-roughened skin. Could she imagine a future without him? He liked her just the way she was, and she liked him, too.

“I want you to court me. Properly.”

“What?” He glowered at her, and then resumed his seat, his expression thoughtful. “As in flowers, and dinner parties, and taking you to the theater?”

“Yes, publicly.”

He sat back and crossed one booted foot over the over. “For how long?”

She shrugged. “Six months?”

“Three, and then you marry me in the local church with my mother, your mother, and the great and the good from Millcastle and beyond in attendance.”

“Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

She nodded and bit her lip twisting his betrothal ring on her finger. A second later he was down on his knees again holding both her hands and looking into her eyes.

“I wish I could be that perfect man you deserve, but alas, I cannot, but I love you, and I will never give you cause to doubt it.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You are perfect—for me.”

He stood up, plucked her out of her chair, sat her on his lap and kissed her thoroughly.

“Minx,” he muttered savagely as he kissed her again. “Leading me a merry dance.”

“That you well deserved,” she reminded him, kissing him back. “Would you like to know how I bought this house, or do you still think I stole from you?”

“You can bleed me dry if you marry me.”

“You really are in love with me, aren’t you? She sighed blissfully “What an excellent notion.”

He cupped her chin. “Dear God, I have created a monster.”

She smiled back at him. “Don’t worry, it is now in my best interests to make sure you increase your wealth at every opportunity.”

“Amen to that.”

He kissed her again and she forgot all about finance for a very long time.

I hope you enjoyed reading The Lord of Lost Causes as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you want to know when the next book comes out, please join my mailing list. Turn the page to read an excerpt from Educating Elizabeth, book one in the Diable Delamere series.

Best

Kate

Excerpt-Educating Elizabeth

Diable Delamere series book #1
copyright @Kate Pearce 2012

"Miss Waterstone, there has clearly been a misunderstanding." Gervase held out his hand to her. "I swear I will not touch you again. You must let me help you."

She stumbled to her feet and continued to retreat until she reached the connecting doorway to his suite.

"Don't you dare come any closer, you...you disgusting reprobate!"

As she turned to run through the open door to his suite and into the freedom of the hallway beyond, Gervase gathered himself and made a lunge for her. With a cry, she crashed against his dressing table, knocked the contents to the floor, and went down on her knees. Her fingers closed around a small travelling clock. Straightening, she aimed it right at his head.

Gervase came to an abrupt stop and held up his hands.

"Miss Waterstone, please put the clock down. It is made of solid brass and you might injure yourself if you attempt to throw it. I'm sure we can sort out this very unpleasant situation to your satisfaction."

Her mouth worked and she swallowed twice before she was able to speak. "I'm well aware of how heavy the clock is, Your Grace. I am the one holding it, after all. My brothers taught me how to throw properly when I was a little girl, and I'm quite capable of hitting my target."

Her brave statement impressed him more than he cared to admit. Any other woman of his acquaintance would have been in floods of tears by now, not calmly threatening to brain him with his own clock. He fought an absurd desire to laugh.

"Well, if you wish to throw something at me, please go ahead."

He advanced a step toward her, one hand held out, and then froze as she drew her arm back.

"I don't think I could kill you, even though you deserve it. They would probably behead me at the Tower if I murdered a duke." She eyed him with great consideration as though he were a paper target. "No, I think if I winged you, it would be enough to stop you from following me."

Gervase laughed then and took another step forward. "Stop this foolishness, my dear. Give me the clock and we will talk. You have my word I won't lay a finger on you."

She took aim as he crossed the carpeted space between them and the heavy clock connected with his shoulder, ripping his dressing gown and making him reel backward.

"That," he said with deep appreciation, "was indeed an excellent shot." The shocking pain caught him unawares and he staggered to the side and fell against the marble mantelpiece, striking his head.

Eventually, he heard his valet's worried voice over the roaring in his ears. When Jacques bent over him, Gervase managed to grasp his sleeve.

"Don't let her leave."

Jacques's voice sounded puzzled and increasingly faint. "Who, Your Grace? You are the only person here."

If you enjoyed this excerpt, please go and check out more here!

About Kate

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kate Pearce was born in England in the middle of a large family of girls and quickly found that her imagination was far more interesting than real life. After acquiring a degree in history and barely escaping from the British Civil Service alive, she moved to California and then to Hawaii with her kids and her husband and set about reinventing herself as a romance writer.

She is known for both her unconventional heroes and her joy at subverting romance clichés. In her spare time she self publishes science fiction erotic romance, historical romance, and whatever else she can imagine.

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Other Books by Kate

Sci-fi/Futuristic Romance

Triad Series

The Power of Three

The Power of Persuasion

Viking Unbound

Viking Claimed

The Power of Fate

Valhalla Series

Planet Mail

Secured Mail

Captive Mail

The Tribute Series

Sacrifice

Retribution

Triumph

Tribute

Paranormal Romance

Soul Justice Series

Soul Sucker

Death Bringer

The Tudor Vampire Chronicles

Kiss of the Rose

Blood of the Rose

Mark of the Rose

Historical Romances

Eden's Pleasure

Antonia's Bargain

The Ties That Bind

Jilted in January

Millcastle series

The Lord of Lost Causes

Diable Delamere series

Educating Elizabeth

Redeeming Jack

Loving Michael

Awakening Amelia

House of Pleasure Series

Simply Sexual

Simply Sinful

Simply Shameless

Simply Wicked

Simply Insatiable

Simply Forbidden

Simply Carnal

Simply Voracious

Simply Scandalous

Simply Pleasure

Simply Irresistible

The Sinners Club

The First Sinners

The Sinners Club

Tempting a Sinner

Mastering a Sinner

Contemporary Romance

Raw Desire

Some Like It Rough

Branded, Dirty Sexy Cowboy Shorts

Sexy Shorts

Turner Brother Series

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Roping the Wind

Riding the Line

The Morgan Ranch Series

Once a Seal

The Reluctant Cowboy

The Maverick Cowboy

The Last Good Cowboy

The Bad Boy Cowboy

Copyright Page

THE LORD OF LOST CAUSES

Copyright © 2018 by Kate Pearce

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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