The Fox: in his Henhouse (The Dubious Mates #1)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C harles wanted to murder him for the humiliation she’d just endured, yet she’d no one to blame but herself again. It had simply popped from her mouth, that bit about straddling her mount, and it had been true too, damn it. She knew perfectly well how to ride in skirts but not in a man’s seat. She’d had no choice but to don breeches. What’s more, she was respected enough in Cumberland that no one had commented the entire stretch she’d ridden through the village. Yet here, in front of Adams’s men, all of whom were her folk, she’d been called out harshly by his lordship. Why, he’d all but ruined her reputation with his words, the blasted, self-righteous, conceited devil!

As she stood in her small room hastily fastening her dress, she wiped angry tears from her eyes. Nothing had gone right from the moment she’d tried stealing those two lousy chickens from Lord Wellesley. That had been her true moment of ruin, and perhaps she should simply embrace it. She was a fallen woman, after all: forced to become his mistress even if he’d not taken her by force outright. Was there really any difference, mistress or whore? Charles thought she’d reconciled her shame in this, but now Adams’s men would think her a ‘hoor’ instead of a lady. Even Mamie Griswald had used the term during their talk.

Charles winced, for Mr. Adams had always treated her family with the utmost respect. She hated to think he, too, would think less of her now.

“And that’s it then? She found you out, you oaf, and invited you to ride back with her?” Wells had nearly finished grilling Pinky, though his mood remained foul—despite having enjoyed another of his cook’s fine dinners.

“Aye, Capt’n. Kept me distance the whole time, I did, but she’s no fool, sir. Knew I were skulkin’ behind. Likely didn’t think you’d let ’er out alone anyways.”

Wells snorted. “Likely, yes. And she merely visited prospective staff, she didn’t try to visit her father and sister?”

“No sir. Kept t’ her work, she did, an’ didn’t dally neither. Even tried t’ make the ol’ mare run, she did.” He laughed. “But the beast weren’t ’avin’ it, slowed right down again.”

Wells pictured Charles urging her aging mount into a gallop and almost smiled. “Alright, Pinky, you may go. But next time I ask you to tail someone you’d best do it right.”

“Sure, Capt’n. Only honest, sir, she’s got eyes in the back of her head, she do. That woman’s like a?—”

“Enough, Pinky. Go.”

And out the fellow went.

Wells leaned back in his chair and took up his whiskey again. Should he speak with Charles? Or let her stew another night? Would she seek him out, to report on the new staff? He was mulling precisely this when in she walked.

“My lord.” She curtsied low.

“Miss Merrinan,” he answered clipped.

“I’ve procured the additional staff you approved, sir, to start next week. I’ll need to ready two more rooms with Cuthbert’s help, if you can spare him or another man to assist me in the coming days.”

Wells nodded.

“I should also like . . .” She faltered. “I should also like to request a side saddle, my lord, for when I need to ride into town on future errands.”

He let her stand there a moment longer in her humiliation before he told her, “In future you will take the wagon into town.”

She bit her lip. “My lord, there is but one wagon here and it is often in use. A side saddle might be used by others, not just myself, should any staff need to?—”

“Do you mean to tell me all the women of Cumberland ride as well as you, miss?” He arched his brow.

“No, my lord,” she ground out. “I merely meant to say that any saddle purchased would benefit more than just my?—”

“Your unseemly display before a crew of men today will not go unpunished, Miss Merrinan.” Wells willed himself to remain in control. “Therefore, you will use the wagon in future and you will not ride publicly astride a horse again while in my employment.”

Her mouth tightened.

“For someone as concerned about her reputation as you claim to be, I was surprised by the brazen behavior you displayed this afternoon.”

She again bit her lip.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself, miss?”

Her eyes flashed up at him, burning. “No, my lord,” she gritted. “Would you like another bath brought to your room tonight, sir?”

“Yes,” he told her. “You may go now.”

And out she went, slamming the door behind her.

Wells leaned back in his chair, tension draining from his body. God but he wanted her again, badly. He told himself he didn’t, that he wanted her apology well-and-good first, but the image of those sweet hips of hers sashaying across the courtyard in his breeches . . . He felt his trousers tighten. No, he’d make her wait. She’d come begging before long. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

Although a tiny voice inside his heart warned that maybe she did not.

John stood in the shadows, enjoying his evening pipe, as he watched Miss Merrinan enter the courtyard. She hung a blanket over the clothesline and swung at it halfheartedly before she increased her pace. Soon she began to beat at the cloth with such vehemence that she was fast enveloped in a cloud of dust, forced to back away, coughing and hacking from the plumes.

“There now, miss.” His voice made her startle as he approached. “What’s all this so late at night?”

“Needed . . . airing out, Cuthbert.” Charles gasped to catch her breath. “All the . . . blankets do.” She gulped more air.

“True, but can’t it wait till the morrow, gel?”

“My room is rather cold, Cuthbert,” she wheezed.

“Right.” He frowned. “Only I thought that room were more for show than use, miss.”

“Well, it’s being used now.” She began to beat the blanket with renewed zeal.

John stood there a moment longer. “You fightin’ again with his grace, Miss Merrinan?”

“That is none of your business, Cuthbert.”

“’Tis me business t’ know his grace’s mind, miss.”

“Then go ask him yourself.”

“I might just,” he shot back.

“Good!” she fumed.

“Fine!”

And off he stormed, only to turn right around and stomp right back. “And y’ might try bein’ a mite more agreeable, miss. His grace ain’t always the easiest man t’ serve, but he’s one o’ the fairest and most decent masters I’ve ever?—”

Charles swung her paddle at his head, making John duck fast.

“Fair?” she shouted. “Decent?” Her eyes flashed and her bosom heaved with exertion. She was quite the sight.

“Did you hear what he called me today in front of Adams’s men, sir? Did you?”

“Well now, all I know is that you?—”

“He called me a strumpet, Cuthbert! He made me into one and now he’s publicly called me out, ruined me with one word. One bloody word! How will I be able to look my sister in the face after this, or my father?”

John winced.

“Mr. Adams has always respected my family, but after today, he and everyone else will think me no better than the whore Lord Wellesley forced me to become. Because he did, you know. He gave me no choice but to bed him in payment for two goddamned chickens. So he may be a fair and decent master to you, John Cuthbert, and to his men, but to me, a woman, he has been nothing but cruel and detestable from the start.”

John took umbrage at this. “Now look here, miss. From what I heard today, ’twere yer own words as forced his grace t’ call you out. Now I’ll grant he could’ve used a different term, but y’ baited him, gel, just as you’ve baited him before. A bit less sass and a bit more respect and you’d see a changed man for sure. For y’ can’t speak to no duke’s son the way y’ do, Charles. ’Tis a wonder he’s not throttled you already.”

“Throttled?” She gaped. “He beat me, Cuthbert, whipped me with his belt! And you are one to speak, with you and your men all calling him Yer Grace to his face. How is it you are allowed to disrespect his lordship but I am not?”

“What we call him ain’t none o’ yer business.” He narrowed his gaze. “But the way you goad him, woman, Christ,” he muttered. “No wonder he called you a strumpet. You’re incorrigible.”

And her face fell, the corners of her mouth beginning to tremble almost, making him sense she was trying most heroically not to burst into tears. Against his better judgment, John pulled her in for a hug.

“There now, miss, I’m sorry I said as much. Go and have a good cry, you’re no less if y’ do.” And weep she did, the floodgates opening upon his coat as he awkwardly patted her back.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me, Cuthbert,” she told him through her tears, her voice muffled into his chest. “He makes me so angry, all the time, and yet he also?—”

“There, there,” he shushed her. “’Twill all be better come mornin’. He’ll forgive you, miss, he’s not a bad man, I know he’s not. Only he’s not like us, you ken? He’s a duke’s son, Charles. Raised t’ command, t’ order. He knows no other way t’ be. You keep pushin’ him as you do and he’ll lose his temper for good one day.”

“I know.” She sniffed, pulling her face away to wipe her eyes and straighten her apron. “I know it, John.” She spoke more quietly. “Only I don’t know how to stop myself. He goads me in ways I?—”

“Miss,” he told her more firmly, “I’ve known Lord Wells me whole life. We grew up together. I’ve sailed half the globe with him.” Her eyes grew wide at this. “He’s like a brother t’ me.” John was careful how much he told her. “He’s a good man, despite his flaws, and the finest ship’s captain ever. He’d never harm you on purpose, miss. I know he cares for you.”

“He doesn’t, John.” She was adamant. “I am just a body to him.”

“And he’s a body t’ you, gel, don’t you deny it,” he scolded.

She looked briefly chagrined, then stuck out her chin at him. “I don’t. I admit I enjoy him. That is not the . . . That is not the source of my anger,” she finished.

“Nor the source of his,” he said softly. John took a breath. “Which begs the question, Miss Merrinan, as to why the two o’ you is so often so angry with one another. When were it just the body y’ each craved, you’d be satisfied enough, eh?”

And she reacted with a start, as if she were about to retort. John chose that moment to quietly slip away and leave her to her airing. He watched her take up the paddle again to beat at the blanket with less vehemence this time—with more measured, focused intent.

He hoped the gel had heard him.

“Yer Grace?” Wells heard Cuthbert call through the door.

“Enter, John,” he answered from his bath.

“Pinky’s report satisfy, sir?” His steward strode in.

“Yes. Couldn’t keep hid long from her though.” His eyes met Cuthbert’s. “You should’ve sent Fergus instead. Pinky’s still green.”

His man nodded. “Next time, Yer Grace, Fergus ’tis.”

“Only there won’t be a next time, John.” Wells grimaced. “She had the audacity to demand from me a side saddle tonight, as if I’d agree to let her ride about anytime she liked. The gall of that woman.”

“Well now, Yer Grace, t’ be fair, we’ve only got the one?—”

“Wagon, yes. She said as much herself. Don’t you dare start defending her, John.”

“Weren’t about to, sir.” Cuthbert chewed his lip. “Only after the dress down I heard you give her today in front of Adams’s men, is it any wonder she?—?”

“It’s a wonder I haven’t tossed her arse out.” Wells stepped out of the tub in a spray of flung water.

“Yer Grace,” Cuthbert started in again, “I’ve just come from Miss Merrinan beatin’ a blanket half t’ death in the courtyard, so I ’spect she’s more’n sorry for the trouble she caused today.”

“Sorry? Oh I doubt that.” Wells snorted. “Sore more like it. She’s not apologized yet for her behavior, John, and I’ll not tolerate a servant who doesn’t know her place.”

“And don’t I know it,” his steward grumbled.

Wells shot him a look. “Watch your tone, John. I know damn well what you’re thinking and it?—”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Grace, but y’ don’t know a damned thing when it comes t’ me or that gel.”

“What the devil makes you think you can speak to me like that?” Wells was stunned.

“’Cause it’s the truth, and ’cause I swore an oath t’ yer father, Roland Wellesley, that I’d serve you honest and true. But I’ll not lie t’ you, not even when it suits Yer Grace.”

“Fine,” Wells growled, which was as much permission as he’d grant his friend and steward.

“She’s a wreck, sir, she is. Cried her eyes out just now on me shoulder—you can see yerself the stain she left.”

And sure enough, Wells spied the wet spot on John’s coat.

“Said you’d ruined her for good, callin’ her a strumpet in public like you did. Said you’d made her into a whore and she’d not be able t’ look her sister nor father in the eye no more. Said Mr. Adams’d lose all respect for her family.”

“Nonsense.” Wells roughly toweled himself dry. “She is exaggerating, as women do. And being purposefully emotional in order to manipulate you into feeling sorry for her, John.”

“I think I’d know the difference, sir, ’twixt some London lady’s manipulations and a Cumberland gel’s honest hurt.”

Wells quietly fumed.

“She cares for you, clear as day, and even if you don’t, you’ve a duty by her.” Cuthbert raised his hand to stop Wells from interrupting, because he’d been about to open his mouth in protest. “You’ve a duty by her as you took her honor, sir, so you must ensure her reputation ain’t further sullied. It’s all that gel’s got in this community, and though her family’s dirt poor they were once of some class. I see and hear it in her sister’s every word and breath. Those two were raised t’ be ladies, good as any, and what happened to ’em I couldn’t say, but I will say this: Charles Merrinan weren’t raised to take orders, Yer Grace, and it’s fallin’ hard on her to take ’em from you now.”

Wells was only slightly mollified. He knew he had a responsibility to his mistress, but neither did Cuthbert have the right to needle him like this. He knew she was educated, spoke well, rode well, played chess well. If she had been raised a lady then why didn’t her family live accordingly? Why thieve chickens from his coop in the middle of the night?

He grudgingly told his man, “I shall take your words under advisement, Cuthbert, but right now I intend to get some sleep. See to it you help Miss Merrinan ready the rooms for the new staff tomorrow. And the next visit you pay her family, I will accompany you.”

“Yer Grace.” Cuthbert nicked his head in exit, leaving Wells suddenly less offended and perhaps more spurred to action. Perhaps he ought to reevaluate his housekeeper’s position, not only at the Abbey, but also in his bed.