Jade Lee (9 page)

“Think on it, Mama. I could start rebuilding the Crowle fortune again. It’s a good piece of land. It makes good money.”

She eyed him, her expression tight, her eyes narrowed. But in the end, she simply shrugged. “It’s good to see you hopeful about something, Will.”

He grinned. It was good. And maybe luck was with him. So with a sudden burst of energy, he stood and held out his hand to his mother as if he were a courtier in the King’s palace. “Shall I escort you upstairs, Mama?”

She smiled, her cheeks dimpling in a sweet display. “That would be a great pleasure, my son.”

“Then let us to bed.” He grabbed the tiny stub of a candle. Mentally he calculated how many more candles they had in the larder. Meanwhile, his mother was like a dog with a bone on some topics, no matter how much he tried to distract her.

“Tell me her name, Will. Let me dream of grandchildren tonight.”

The idea of grandchildren shouldn’t have surprised him. In truth, she talked about it often enough. But never before had he been startled by the idea of Josephine’s child. He could just imagine a little girl running pell-mell through the woods, her laughter filling the forest with joy. Or perhaps they would have a little boy with eyes that danced because he had mischief on his mind. Any child of Josephine would be a handful, and the thought made his belly clench with a hunger beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

Certainly, he longed to rebuild the Crowle name. He worked day and night to try and regain their lands. But this desire for a child—for Josephine’s child—knocked him flat with the need. And the idea that she would grow round with
his
child made him stumble as they walked. If it were not for his mother, he likely would have fallen flat on his face.

“Will? Are you all right?”

He swallowed. “I… Uh, yes. I’m fine,” he said as he righted himself and turned toward her bedroom. “It’s just late and I am very tired.”

“And you were thinking of children with your woman.”

“She is not
my
woman. Not by a long stretch.”

“But there is someone?”

“Of course there is,” he said as he patted her arm. “There is my lovely mother whom I have kept up too late.”

“But who will be my daughter-in-law?”

He shook his head, his throat abruptly too tight to say Josephine’s name. Sadly, his mother did not suffer from any such ailment.

“She is leading you on a merry dance, isn’t she?”

“No, she is not.” No, it was he who was leading her, right now. Straight into his bed and from there, to the altar.

“Poppycock,” his mother stated firmly. “No man stumbles on the stairs over an easy woman.”

Well, as to “easy”—that word had never applied to Josephine. Fortunately, they had arrived at his mother’s door. “Sleep well, Mama.”

“But—”

“Dream of grandchildren if you must,” he said, “but I will not give you her name. Not yet.”

Naturally, the woman latched on to his hesitation. “If not now, then when?”

He sighed, then finally gave her an answer of sorts. “By summer’s end. If it goes well, by summer’s end.”

“And if it does not?”

“Then I will go visit Louisa at the tavern and begin courting her.”

Canals were boring. That was Josephine’s inescapable conclusion as she endured yet another excited discussion with the twins about the latest developments in construction. And it wasn’t just the twins. It was on all the men’s lips, from the lowliest bootblack to her father. Even the minutest detail seemed to fascinate the men.

The village was boring too as the women all talked about the new influx of workers. Most hated it, and the talk was turning uglier by the second. The men were rough, they were scary, and as there were only four rooms in the inn, the workers camped out anywhere there was open space. There had already been three brawls and countless “very strange” incidents. She had no idea how much truth was in the gossip, but the mood in the village was as frightening as it had been nearly five years ago when the Lawtons were the horrible outsiders.

All in all, the men grumbled and the married women were very anxious. The only ones who seemed happy were the unmarried girls, who remained annoyingly excited and giggly. They dressed better, they practiced coy glances, and they universally tried to duck away from their mothers.

Josephine thought it was boring. The men were just men of a certain ilk. She didn’t want to speculate about them because she was busy thinking about one man in particular. One man who had to go to town, damn it, to manage supplies. One frustrating steward who disappeared right when things were so very different between them. Which meant that man was
not
at their spot on the creek for a week’s worth of nights because of
supply
problems
. For the damned, boring canal!

But no one wanted to talk about Will’s absence. No one cared except to wonder if his new second-in-command could do the job. And it wasn’t like Josephine could talk about what really consumed her thoughts: the way he’d touched her, the things they’d done. No unmarried woman talked about that, and even the married ones only whispered.

Besides, Josephine didn’t have any confidantes in Yorkshire. Her best friends from school were scattered about England with their husbands and new babies. The closest friend she had here was Megan, and she wouldn’t trust Megan with a secret this big. But if she didn’t share it soon with someone, she very much feared she would explode.

“Does the grass offend you that much? Or is it some insect in the blades that bothers you?”

Josephine spun around at Mr. Montgomery’s questions. Her thoughts tumbled about, refusing any type of order, as she struggled to find something appropriate to say.

“I’m… I’m just tired of Yorkshire, is all,” she said. It was a lie. She was tired of her own company.

He raised his eyebrows. “Truly? I thought you loved it here.”

How to answer that? “I do. And I don’t. And truthfully, I’m terribly out of sorts, so be warned. I’m not likely to be pleasant company right now.”

They were on the back lawn, an hour before afternoon tea. The nanny and the boys were—as usual—at the canal. The village children who always hung about were with the boys, again at the canal. Megan and Mama were probably stitching or doing some other very ladylike activity. Which left her at loose ends wondering what to do with herself.

“I have no fear of ill temper,” he said with a congenial smile. “Actually I find it rather invigorating at times.”

“Then we are a match made in heaven,” she returned before immediately regretting her words. Lord, why had she said
that
? Everyone knew the whys and wherefores of his presence here, but did she have to allude to their marriage so bluntly? “I’m terribly sorry,” she mumbled. “I—I don’t know why I said that.”

“Why not say it?” he asked, his expression still pleasant. Rather sheeplike, she thought, then immediately regretted her uncharitable thought. “Our match is the question at hand, isn’t it?”

She nearly groaned. Did he truly want to discuss this now? Right out in the open? It boggled the mind, especially as she had labeled him a “gentleman” in her thoughts. And gentlemen, as a rule, did not speak so openly about marriage. “Um, of course, sir. If you wish,” she said dully.

“Come, come,” he chided. “Don’t grab hold of your temper now. As I said, I enjoy ill humor. Cuts to the heart of things. If you turn polite on me now, I shall become very bored indeed.”

“And that is the very worst, isn’t it? Becoming bored?”

“I detest it. I will go to great lengths to avoid it.”

She twisted to look at him more fully. Megan was right, his red hair was rather intriguing, especially in the afternoon sunlight. But she found more interesting the arch to his brow and the sparkle of interest in his eyes. It wasn’t flirtatious, by any means. It was simply curiosity, as if he saw her as a person and truly wanted to know her thoughts. But they were talking about nothing! She narrowed her eyes in thought.

“How much do you detest it?” she challenged.

“I cannot think of anything worse.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

His brows shot up at her bold question.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

She regarded him, deciding to be completely blunt. It would, after all, get some of her endlessly whirling questions out of the way. “You have come here for the land and to learn how to manage it after we are wed.”

His lips tightened at that, but he didn’t speak. And in his silence, she pressed on.

“You have spent most of your time doing exactly that. Meeting the crofters, surveying the canal.” Always the canal. “You and my father seem to have found some sort of understanding. Mama adores you and even Megan thinks you are my best suitor ever.”

“Surely she doesn’t think that!” he said.

“I assure you, she has said so repeatedly.”

He pursed his lips. “But you don’t agree?”

“Oh, I do,” she said quite honestly. “My suitors, on the whole, have been a sad lot.”

“Damned by faint praise,” he drawled.

She shrugged and then resumed her slow meandering about the edge of their lawn. He followed, of course, even as she looked longingly at the surrounding trees. She wanted to run wild through the woods, but this was her very last clean, good gown, and so she had to be careful with it. At least until after the laundry was done. Meanwhile, he was dancing attendance on her and she needed some answers.

“So the question is,” she repeated, “why are you here with me?”

“Because if I am to wed a woman, I should get to know her first, don’t you think?”

She threw up her hands. “Well, I thought so at
first
. But it has been over a week and we have barely spoken more than pleasantries. So what has happened now, sir, to bring you to my side?”

He shrugged, and far from being annoyed by her question, he seemed rather embarrassed. “I have lately come to think that perhaps the woman
does
make a difference.”

She snorted and echoed back his words. “Damned by faint praise.”

He acknowledged the hit with a nod of his head, then focused on her with a steady gaze. “Does the man make a difference to you?”

“Yes,” she said. “A very great deal.”

“Then I suppose I have a very great deal to make up for.”

She kicked at a stone and watched it fly into the trees. “Mr. Montgomery, may I be blunt?”

His lips curved in a smile. “By all means, be
more
blunt.”

She winced. “I told you I was out of sorts,” she groused.

“Fair enough. I was warned.”

“You were.” Then she waved his comment away. “I want to get married. I want to have children. But mostly, I want something to fill my days and nights.”

“You do not think running a home will do that? That children will absorb your time?”

“Well, of course they will, but… but I don’t like running a home. And besides, Mrs. Ransey, our housekeeper does that. And yes, I will adore my children—I adore
all
children—but they don’t appear the day after we are wed. And really, they’re not very interesting until they can walk and talk.”

He reared back as if struck. “You don’t like babies?”

“Of course I do!
Everyone
likes babies. But after a little cooing and cuddling, they spit up on you and need to be cleaned.”

“I suspect that will change once the child is your own.”

She nodded. “No doubt. But…” But what? What did she
want
? She wanted Will to come home so they could meet by the creek again. She wanted to explore more of what they had done. But even he had warned that what they did was only a temporary solution. Eventually this restlessness would return.

“I see you are correct,” he said in absolute seriousness. “You are out of sorts.”

She nearly laughed out loud at that, but she held it back. If she once let out the sound, she feared it would rapidly descend into hysteria. And how ridiculous was that? Will had only been gone a week, and yet she felt she would go mad if he did not return immediately!

Meanwhile, Mr. Montgomery stepped around her, as if he wished to consider her from another angle. Then he leaned against a tree, his eyes alight as he studied her. “What did you do in London? Did you like it there?”

“Well, of course, I was busy there.”

“Doing what?”

What did any unmarried woman do? “Dressmaker, dance instructor, luncheon parties, musicales, and balls. Then there was Almacks and of course in between were the discussions.”

“Discussions?”

No way to delicately explain that. “The merits of each gentleman, speculation as to his interest, and recommendations on how to attract it.”

He shuddered. “Goodness, that couldn’t possibly have taken up
all
your time in London.”

“Oh, I assure you it did.”

“And you disliked it?”

“On the contrary, I adored it at first. It was very exciting meeting all those men. Would this one be my husband? What about that one? I shall snare an earl at the very least!”

“Ah. But you didn’t?”

“Didn’t want to! Have you met any of the dukes? Old, lecherous, and…” And not a one of them appreciated her tendency to speak her mind. She couldn’t imagine having
this
discussion with any of them.

“And I believe you are much too forthright a woman to make them want to risk their dignity with you.”

Was that a kind way of saying she was too routinely out of sorts to attract a titled man? Well, of course it was! And what was worse: it was true!

“Bloody hell,” she moaned as she dropped down onto the grass. Then a moment later she remembered she was in her last clean dress and she had now gotten it filthy. Which made her moan in disgust again.

He laughed at that, the sound rich and full in the afternoon air. It was startling and rather annoying, so she glared up at him.

“You need not poke fun at me, Mr. Montgomery. I warned you—”

“That you were out of sorts, yes. But as I say, I enjoy other people’s temper.”

“Then you are extremely odd.”

He acknowledged that with a grin as he settled onto the grass beside her. “I am indeed. But we were discussing your mood.”

“Pray do not tell me to take up stitching. It will likely encourage me to start throwing rocks.”

“So long as you do not throw them at me—”

“I make no promises, sir.”

He chuckled. “Very well, stitching is a very bad idea. On no account should you venture near needle and thread.”

“Thank you. Now if you could share that with my mother, I would be ever so grateful.”

He leaned back on his elbows as he stretched his face to the sky. She took a moment to be surprised that he would be so careless with his clothes, then shrugged off the idea. His attire was already slightly dirty. He’d worn it at the canal just this morning. She could tell by the distinct odor in the fabric.

Meanwhile, he spoke, his eyes not on her but the darkening clouds. Would there be rain? “You were with your father in India, were you not?”

“We all were. Mama didn’t wish to separate us. That’s why I had my first Season so late: because we spent so much time there.”

“And do you remember India?”

“Of course I do. I loved it!”

He rolled slightly to look at her, a gleam of interest in his eyes. “Really? What did you love?”

She shrugged. “I know I am supposed to say that it was beastly hot. And to tell you the truth, it was. The people smelled funny, and it was always so noisy.”

“But you loved it?”

“I did! Everything was different, everything was new! No matter what I did, where I looked, there was something different to see. I spoke to everyone, you know. Mama despaired of me ever learning polite conversation, but I wanted to know! Why did they put dots on their faces? What was the beggar saying? Could I go to the market too?”

“And did you? Ever get to the market?”

She grimaced. “A few times, yes. But only with a nanny who was perpetually nervous and constantly grabbing my arm to keep me by her side.”

“I understand India can be a very dangerous place. Especially for pretty English girls.”

She noted that he’d just suggested that she was pretty, or had been a pretty girl, but she really didn’t care. Her mind was back in India and everything she had seen and done there. Which, truthfully, hadn’t been all that much. For all that she had done, there were a million more things that she had wanted to do and wasn’t allowed.

“I used to spend as much time as I could talking to our butler.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “He told me about his religion, mostly. I think he was trying to convert me.”

“And were you converted?”

“To Hindu? No, but I did find the ideas interesting. Mama was appalled—”

“Naturally.”

“But I just wanted to learn more.”

“And did you? Did you read about it? Did you discover as much as you wanted?”

She nodded. “For the most part, yes. I can never be put off when I really want to know something. I found people to ask. There weren’t many books, but I learned what I wanted to. And then I met my maid’s mother. She was a… well, a witch healer of some sort.”

“Really? How extraordinary. I wonder that your parents allowed it.”

“Oh, well, they didn’t. Not once they found out. And she wasn’t really a witch, you know. She just made potions of a kind. Teas for aches, love spells, that sort of thing.”