Chapter Nine

A lady should always make herself useful in all things domestic.

December 21, 1817

Night was just falling as Jackson came into the cottage from bringing in another load of cut wood for the fireplaces. Lydia nodded to him as he dropped a few split logs in the basket next to the stove, for they had finished dinner not too long ago.

“You should be in the other room, sitting with the drivers. They apparently unearthed a bottle of whisky hidden in the barn, and I said they could keep warm by the fire until it was time to retire.”

They’d all shared dinner around the oaken table, for Elsbeth had been so proud that she’d helped to prepare it. The remains of the two loaves of bread and a hearty hunter’s stew still littered the table, but she’d lingered in her chair, sipping tea and allowing her thoughts to overtake her. The wind still whipped about, but it appeared that the snow which had bedeviled the landscape last night might stop sometime during the upcoming night.

Then they would need to wait for the roads to clear before she would need to bid the earl and his daughter goodbye.

“I don’t mind. The physical exercise is good for me.” He glanced about the small space. “Where is Elsbeth? I wanted to tell her again how lovely dinner was.”

“She went upstairs to read and write a couple of letters. I’ll join her in an hour so we can search the attics for a trace of Christmas decorations.” Lydia wiped her hands on a length of linen that served as a towel. “I didn’t wish for her to be alone in the common room with the drivers since she’s a young lady ready to attend finishing school. If she had to admit to that, for whatever the reason or circumstance, it might hurt her chances of getting into the better ones.”

“While I appreciate that, I have the final say on where she will go, and I happen to know a rather outstanding headmistress of a finishing school in Mayfair.” When he winked, flutters went through her lower belly.

Would he still think that when—or if—he discovered she wasn’t an earl’s daughter? That she had absolutely no connection to the beau monde at all? That he’d essentially coupled with a low-born half-Englishwoman who’d had no future a handful of years ago?

While pressing her lips together, she nodded. “I would be happy to have Elsbeth on my roster for next autumn’s term.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” How could she begin to tell him that what they’d done last night had helped vanquish the unsavory memories of her husband? That she’d felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to anyone else in her life? That it was a foolish thing she’d done, and if she didn’t watch herself, she would start to fall in love with him?

Nothing good could ever come from that.

“I can see you’re bothered by something.”

She frowned. The man was too observant for his own good. “It’s nothing.” If she were honest with herself, she’d rather enjoyed having a champion and someone to protect her. It made her struggles worthwhile.

“Let me grab another load of wood for the house then we’ll talk.” Seconds later, he went out into the cold once more, the hem of his greatcoat flapping.

With a sigh, Lydia went to the door that adjoined the common room. “Are you certain the two of you don’t want another bowl of stew? If not, I’m going to put the dining room to rights.”

They both groaned.

Robert shook his head. “I don’t think I could eat another bite, my lady.”

The other man grinned. “I’m stuffed, and that’s a fact, but I sure do appreciate you letting us share in the meal.”

“You are both quite welcome. In times like these, everyone survives together.” Additionally, she liked having them both around, for that would help keep Malcolm off the property. What she would do after they left her alone, she couldn’t begin to fathom. Then the door to the kitchen opened, and the earl came back into the house. “You’ll freeze if you’re not careful,” she said as she came around him to close the door since his arms were full of wood.

“True, but that just means I might sneak into your room later tonight so you can warm me,” he shot back in a barely audible whisper. “Let me put this in the other room. I’ll return in a twinkling.”

As the muted rumble of male voices reached her ears, Lydia tidied up the detritus of dinner left on the table. She put the lid on the pot of stew and set it on the back of the stove in the event the earl might wish for another bowl later. He could warm it himself. After wrapping the remainder of the bread with a clean rag, she swept the crumbs from the floor, tossed them outside, and then put out the lantern.

By the time she entered the common room, the drivers were on their way out, with the excuse that they would be keeping the horses calm and mucking out stalls. Jackson thanked them, warned them to stay vigilant, and after, he closed and locked the door behind them.

“Today has been all too domestic.” Once he’d removed his greatcoat, he draped it over one of the chairs near the fire, no doubt to dry it out from the snow. “I don’t mind saying that I rather enjoyed it. Quite the change from day-to-day life.”

She nodded. “I would imagine, though, after a few days of living like this, you would grow frantic to return to your life in London, one where servants do everything for you and reclining on furniture that isn’t worn or broken.”

“Ah, so you think me arrogant, possibly spoiled.” There was no animosity in the inquiry, just humor as he seated himself on the other chair.

“No, I think you are an earl who has grown used to a certain way of life. There is nothing wrong with that.” Not wanting to go upstairs quite yet, Lydia perched on the edge of the sofa near his location. “A life like this would soon prove dull for you, and you wouldn’t enjoy all the physical labor involved in such an existence.”

“I’m capable, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” She roved her gaze over his face, and the hint of the evening stubble clinging to his cheeks and chin sent heated prickles of awareness over her skin. “You are quite virile and strong, but living here, being removed from society and everything your title allows… this isn’t what you were born for.”

A hint of a frown touched his lips. “Neither are you.”

Lydia glanced away from him lest he see the tears welling in her eyes. “I wouldn’t be so certain. Being back here, walking through each of these rooms where it took me nearly three years to find the courage to leave.” She shook her head. “To be honest, I want nothing else to do with this property. I miss London. If I ever returned to the Lake District it will be too soon.”

“That’s understandable but let me give you a different perspective.” The earl moved from his chair to the sofa next to her. “Give it time. You never thought you would let a man close, yet you have been quite receptive to what you and I have done together.”

Heat went through her cheeks. “True.”

“And you must trust me, because you haven’t shied away from any of my advances,” he said in a whisper as he leaned into her and brushed his lips over hers. “You have even made some of your own.”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy carnal exercise; I merely didn’t like it with Duncan. For obvious reasons.” That fleeting touch of his lips on hers was enough to make her want to fall into his arms and let him continue to protect her. But that wasn’t how life worked.

“Would you ever consider marriage again?”

For long moments, she frowned at him before speaking. Did she want to give up the freedom she’d found from being alone, from hiding? Yet traveling with the earl had been a surprising endeavor, and she’d found she liked having him about. “That would largely depend on the man.” When her gaze collided with his, the emotions therein were unreadable. “Would you marry again?”

As he shrugged, his shoulder brushed hers. Again, awareness made itself known. “My answer is the same as yours. It would depend on the woman.” His stare was intense. “And there is Elsbeth to consider.”

“Of course. Children are important when it comes to second marriages.” Her insides shivered as grief once more slammed into her and stole her breath. “My first marriage was full of regrets, Jackson, but one of the largest ones was losing my babe.” Then another thought occurred. “I’m not certain I will ever have another chance to be a mother.”

She’d never admitted that to anyone. Yet she’d coupled with the earl last night, and he’d not taken measures to prevent a pregnancy, though it was unlikely since she’d finished with her menses the day before she’d embarked upon the journey north.

On the off chance that a child did result, what would happen? A disgraced headmistress would be certain to cause scandal and ruin.

Immediately, he slipped his arms about her. “You are young yet. Don’t paint your future with a brush that isn’t yours any longer.” When he did nothing more than hold her, another round of tears formed in her eyes. “If there is a chance that—”

“Hush.” She closed her eyes to enjoy leaning on his strength. “I would never want any man out of obligation, for I am worth more than a responsibility.”

“On that I agree with you. However, I—”

Lydia stemmed his flow of words with a finger to his lips. “No. Don’t even try to convince me of something that would probably prove folly on both our parts. It hasn’t even been a week, and I’m not in the habit of trapping men, especially those who hold titles.” For the space of a few heartbeats, she held his gaze. “You are a good man, Jackson, but there are only so many times you can rescue me before you start to resent it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Then the dratted man took her hand and kissed the back. “As long as you understand that I couldn’t bear knowing there was a child in the world who belonged to me but wasn’t legally mine.” Though there was a note of command in his voice, it didn’t frighten her like her husband’s need for control had. In the earl, she knew he merely wished to protect those around him, and she appreciated that.

“When you do marry again—and you will—be true to yourself and make certain it is for love above all else. Life is too short for anything else.” Daring much, Lydia leaned into him and kissed him, but before it could become too heated, she pulled away. “Now I’ll leave you to your drink of choice—not that there is much here—because I made a promise to your daughter.”

Two hours later, she and Elsbeth were completing their rooting through the attic space. They had been fortunate enough to locate two small boxes containing ribbons and some tin bells that were dinged and dented, but another box bearing glass baubles and balls proved mostly broken. Whether they’d been broken and then put into the boxes or shattered due to changes in weather, she couldn’t say.

“Oh, Lydia, look here in this one.” The girl showed her a box that she’d just taken a lid from. “There are dried citrus fruits as well as pinecones. We can use those.”

“Absolutely we can.” A swath of memories hit her, and she tried hard to tamp them back. She remembered slicing the oranges and one precious lemon the first Christmas she’d celebrated with her husband. Her mother had come over to help with the preparations. Some of the slices they’d candied in a bit of sugar but the rest they’d dried. Afterward, they’d slipped them onto evergreen branches over the mantel for a bit of color, and in the right light, the slices had looked like stained glass. “At this point, anything will be better than nothing.”

“May I ask you a question?” Elsbeth’s gaze was on her face, but her expression was difficult to read.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you find my father attractive?”

Ah, straight to the point. Lydia appreciated that about the girl. Being forthright would serve her well as she grew into adulthood. Of course, it could lead to problems too, but there was time enough to teach her discernment. “He is a handsome man. That is undeniable.” She tightened her fingers around the box in her hands. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, I suppose.” With a shrug, Elsbeth picked her way through the attic until she’d reached the narrow and steep wooden staircase. “Just that you and he seemed chummy earlier this evening while talking. I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but I did spy him holding you at one point.”

“Oh.” She bit back a gasp. “You were watching us?” That was quite disconcerting.

“I didn’t mean to.” A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I wanted to come down and ask about the attics, but when I saw that and noted you seemed a little upset, I came back upstairs.” As she paused, she tilted her head slightly. “I already lost my mother; it would break my heart if I lost my father too, not to death but to the machinations of a woman who is still much a stranger that he pulled off the road a handful of days ago.” She cleared her throat. “Regardless of how I want him to marry again so that he might find peace.”

Though the words were a tad harsh, they were no less than the truth. Easily she could see the situation from the young girl’s eyes. “I understand exactly why you are worried. The connection or attraction if you will between your father and me is inexplicable, which causes me to worry as well.”

“You feel he isn’t thinking of romance?”

Heat slapped at her cheeks. “Perhaps. He has much on his mind, I think.” Was it romance? Most likely not. Lust, definitely, and certainly desire.

“I’ve seen how he looks at you, though. Sometimes, it makes me embarrassed, but it also makes me happy that he might be finally coming out of mourning and self-exile.”

“Ah.” Not for worlds would she show her delight at the news. She laid a hand on Elsbeth’s shoulder. “You have my word that I would never pull him away from you. Even still, once the storm ends and the roads clear, you and he will be on your way.”

Surprise jumped into her eyes. “You aren’t travelling onward with us?”

“This cottage was my destination all along. I would have no reason to accompany you both to Scotland.” Quite frankly, she had more respect for herself than to become mistress to an earl, despite her budding feelings for him. Even then, they were suspect; they could very well have sprung up due to him rescuing her. After all, she had a finishing school to keep running and a reputation to remain sterling.

At least as far as her false persona went.

“I didn’t realize that,” Elsbeth said in a soft voice. “It’s so sad, for you were a lovely companion; I was learning much from you, us both being daughters of earls, you see.”

Cold guilt coiled in Lydia’s belly. “I’m sorry.” For many things, but exclusively for the lies she’d been forced to share.

“I didn’t mean to cause you upset.” Elsbeth clutched her free hand. “You would be a good match for him, and I will tell him so when the time is right.”

It was quite difficult to gauge the girl’s moods and emotions, for they swung wildly. She could only nod. “Let us get these boxes downstairs. After breakfast tomorrow, we’ll do some decorating. Perhaps if the storm is over, we can convince your father to go out with us to gather greenery.”

“That will be a fun outing.” Just like that, the worry and annoyance in her expression cleared, and she was all smiles as they carefully descended the steps to the second floor.

Good thing Lydia was well versed in adolescent behavior else she might have taken that talk personally. Still, it bothered her, this lie that she’d indulged in. Even though she’d told Jackson some of it, she hadn’t come completely clean, and now it seemed both he and his daughter would be collateral damage before too much longer.

When they reached the common room, she didn’t immediately see the earl. Seconds later, he came in from outside, brushing the snow off the shoulders of his greatcoat.

“What happened?”

He shrugged as he closed the door. “I thought I spied a shadow moving about near the windows, so I went outside to investigate and do rounds.”

Icy fear played its fingers down her spine. “And?” She could hardly force the word out as she rested her box of decorations on a nearby table.

“There were footprints, but I didn’t find human life. Nothing but a fox and a herd of deer.” After he removed his greatcoat, he draped it over the chair. “I’ll continue to monitor the situation.”

“Thank you.” There was every possibility the footprints belonged to her brother-in-law, and apparently, he wouldn’t rest until he’d gained the cottage.

Not for the first time was she grateful the earl was there, and she lost a piece of her heart to him merely because he thought nothing of protecting her and this property, when neither of them meant anything to him.