Gallant Waif (10 page)

Lady Cahill frowned at him. “You’re no more a cripple than I am,” she snapped. “What’s a stiff leg? Your grandfather had one for years as a result of a hunting accident and it never stopped him from doing anything he wanted to.”

“As I recall, ma’am, my grandfather was still able to ride to hounds until shortly before his death.”

A short silence fell. Lady Cahill considered the cruel irony of her grandson’s injury. A noted rider to hounds until his injury, Jack had received as his only inheritance a house in one of the most famous hunting shires in the country.
Now, when he was unable even to sit a horse.

Jack stood up awkwardly. He still found it hard to face discussion of his wounds. “Can one enquire as to what brought you to my humble home?” he asked, changing the subject.

“You may well ask that,” she said crossly.

“Yes, I just did,” he murmured irrepressibly.

“Don’t be cheeky, boy! I came to find out what was happening to you. Now, tell me, sir, what did you mean by denying your own sister hospitality?”

“Grandmama, you can see for yourself that this place is not yet fit to receive guests… Besides, I was
castaway
at the time. I do regret it, but I’ve had enough of women weeping and sighing over
my.
. .my disfigurement,” he finished stiffly.

“Disfigurement, my foot!”
She snorted inelegantly. Her eyes wandered to the scar on his right cheek. “If you are referring to that little scratch on your face, well, you were always far too good-looking for your own good. You look a great deal
more manly
now, not so much of a pretty boy.”

He bowed ironically. “I thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, tush!” she said. “I think I will get up now, so take
yourself
off and get one of those lazy servants of yours to bring me up some hot water.”

“I regret it, ma’am, but I cannot.”

“What do you mean, boy?”

He shrugged indifferently. “I don’t employ any indoor servants.”

Lady Cahill sat up in bed, deeply shocked. “What? No servants?” she gasped. “Impossible! You must have servants!”

“I have no interest in the house. I’ve bivouacked in enough dam—dashed uncomfortable places in the last few years and now it’s enough for me to have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. I have no intention of forking out a small fortune for a horde of indoor servants, merely to see to my comfort, even if I had a small fortune to fork out, which as you know I do not.”

Lady Cahill was appalled. “No indoor servants?”

He shrugged again. “None but my man, Carlos, and he
sees
to my horses as well.” He held up his hand, forestalling any further comment from her. “There are only those servants you brought with you yourself. I’m afraid you’ll have to get them to wait on you. Only I sent them to stay in the village at the inn—all except for your dresser and maid. They can see to your needs as best they can.”

Lady Cahill snorted. “You won’t see Smithers demeaning herself by heating water.”

He shrugged. “Get your other maid to do it. She seems capable enough.”

“What other maid? What are you talking about, boy?”

Jack sighed. “Grandmama, don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling me ‘boy’? I am past thirty, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy! And stop changing the subject. What other maid are you talking about?”

“The little thin creature in the dreadful black clothes.
I must say, Grandmama, that I am surprised that you haven’t noticed them. You’re usually so fastidious about your servants’ appearance. And how is it—” his voice deepened with indignation “—that you allowed the girl to almost starve herself to death? She swooned last night in the driveway and there was no one to assist her.”

“Swooned?” said Lady Cahill, watching him narrowly.

“Fell down in a dead faint.
From hunger, unless I miss my guess.
She’s nothing but skin and bones, with the most enormous eyes. Pale skin, curly brown hair, looks as if a breeze would blow right through her, a tongue on her like a wasp but, apparently, scared stiff of spiders.”

Jack halted, suddenly aware that he had said far too much. He knew from past experience that his grandmother could add two and two and come up with five.

“Frightened of spiders, is she? That surprises me. I wouldn’t have said that that young woman was afraid of much at all. I would’ve said she has a deal of courage. But she’s not my maid,” Lady Cahill added finally. “Is that what she told you?”

Jack frowned. “No,” he said slowly, thinking back. “I suppose I rather jumped to that conclusion.” His eyes narrowed, recalling Kate’s performance of a few minutes ago. “If she isn’t your maid, who is she?”

“Her name is Kate Farleigh.”

“I know that, ma’am. She did inform me of that. But what is she doing here?” Jack hung on to his patience.

His grandmother shrugged vaguely.
“Now, how should I know what she is doing, Jack?
You know perfectly well I haven’t left this room since I arrived last night. She could be picking flowers or taking tea. How the deuce should I know what she is doing, silly boy?”

Jack gritted his teeth. “Grandmama, why has this girl come to my house?”

The old lady smiled guilelessly up at him. “Oh, well, as to that, dear boy, she had no choice. No choice at all.”

“Grandmother!”
Jack’s lips thinned.

“Now don’t get tetchy with me, boy; it doesn’t work. Your grandfather used to rant and rave at me all the time.”

“I fully understand why, and heartily sympathise with him!” her undutiful grandson snapped.
“Now enough of this nonsense, Grandmama.
Who is she?”

“Her name is Kate Farleigh and she is the only daughter of my goddaughter, the late Maria Farleigh,
nee
Delacombe.” In a few pithy sentences, Lady Cahill put Jack in possession of the bare bones of Kate’s story, as she knew it.

He frowned. “Then she is a lady.”

“Of course.”

“Well, she doesn’t behave like one.”

“I saw no sign of any lack of breeding,” said his grandmother. “A temper, yes. Glared at me out of those big blue eyes of hers—”

“Not blue.
A sort of grey-green.”

The old woman repressed a grin. So he had noticed the colour of her eyes, had he? “Whatever you say,” she agreed. “The gel glared at me, but there was no sign of panic— stayed as cool as you please as I whisked her off to heaven-knew-where.”

His eyebrows rose at this. “What do you mean, you whisked her off?”

“Oh, don’t look like that, Jack. It was the only possible thing. You said yourself the girl was on the verge of starvation. She was in dire straits. She is an orphan with no blood kin to turn to and has not a penny left in the world, unless I miss my guess.”

Jack frowned, stretching his bad leg reflectively. “I still don’t understand.”

“The girl has far more than her share of stubborn foolish pride. Just like her dratted father in that respect. Maria’s family wanted to make a huge settlement on her when she married him, Maria being their only child, but he would have none of it. Didn’t want it to be thought he was marrying her for her money. And look what has come of it! His own daughter dressed in rags and almost starving! Faugh! I have no patience with the man!”

“But
Kate.
. .er…Miss Farleigh, Grandmama,” he prompted.

“Said she wasn’t interested in taking charity from me or anyone else.
Well, I had no time to stand around bandying words with her in her poky little hovel. So I kidnapped her.”

“You
what?”
Jack stared at his grandmother in amazement. Truly, she was an outrageous old lady. His lips twitched and suddenly he couldn’t help himself; the chuckles welled up from somewhere deep inside him. He collapsed on the bed and laughed till his sides hurt.

His grandmother watched him, deeply pleased. It was the first glimpse she’d had of the beloved grandson who had gone off to the wars. A scarred, silent, cynical stranger had returned in his place, and until she saw him laughing now, with such abandon, she had not realised how frightened she’d been that the old Jack had truly perished for ever in the wars.

Something had shattered the deep reserve he’d adopted since he came home from the Peninsula War, crippled, disinherited,
then
jilted. He’d remained unnaturally calm, seeming not to care, not to react. Except that he’d withdrawn into himself and become a recluse.

Now, in the space of an hour or so, Lady Cahill had seen her grandson boiling with fury, then laughing uninhibitedly. And a slip of a girl seemed to have caused it all. Lady Cahill thanked heaven for the impulse that had caused her to call on Kate on the way to Leicestershire. The girl could not be allowed to disappear now.

The old lady pushed at Jack’s shoulders, which were still heaving with mirth. “Oh, get out of here, boy. I’ve had enough of you and your foolishness this morning.” She spoke gruffly to cover her emotion.

“It’s time I got dressed or Smithers will be having hysterics. It’s clear to me that this place of yours needs a woman to set things in order, so I suppose I must shift myself and set to work. See if you can get me some hot water, there’s a good boy. Now move, Jack, or I will get out of bed in my nightgown right now and that would most certainly cause Smithers to fall in a fit and foam at the mouth!”

Jack grinned at her. “You are, without doubt, the most scandalous old lady of my acquaintance. I’m surprised that poor woman hasn’t died of shock long since.” He rose from the bed and, still chuckling, limped from the room.

Jack headed downstairs, the laughter dying from his face.
Now to find Miss Kate Farleigh without delay and put her straight on one or two things.
A kitchen maid?
Hah! Only interested in scrubbing the floor? Hah! To think he’d been worried about her! No doubt the little wretch was sitting somewhere with her feet up, laughing up her shabby sleeve at the fine trick she had played on him.

Entering the kitchen, he came to a dead halt. Kate was down on hands and knees, vigorously scrubbing the large flagstones of the kitchen floor, exactly as she’d said she would.

“What the
devil
do you think you’re doing?” he roared.

Kate jumped, then turned, laid down the hard-bristled scrubbing brush and sat back on her heels. She noted the black frown, the clenched fists and the outrage. Her eyes twinkled. So, he had finally discovered who she was.
And was feeling rather grumpy about it.
She pressed her lips firmly together to stop them quivering with laughter.

Jack’s violent reaction to the sight of her scrubbing his floor confused him. He battled with anger and an equally strong desire to lift her up and whisk her upstairs. She looked so small and delicate. She had no business attempting such a dirty and demeaning task. “I said, what do you think you’re doing?”

She glanced at the floor, still swimming with dirty water, then at the discarded scrubbing brush. “It’s called scrubbing the floor,” she explained helpfully, unable to resist teasing him a little. “I would have thought a man of your age—”

“Don’t play games with me, girl!” he growled. “What the devil is my grandmother’s guest doing scrubbing my floors and cooking my breakfast?” He glared at her. “I won’t have it, do you hear me? I won’t have it!”

Kate, kneeling in a pool of scummy water, endeavoured to look soulful. “But you did, don’t you remember?
Three eggs, six rashers of bacon, and almost a whole pot of coffee.”

“Dammit, I’m not talking about that—”

“But you were. You accused me of cooking your breakfast and then said you wouldn’t have it,” she interrupted gently. “I’m sorry if you didn’t like my food.”

She attempted to make her lower lip quiver sorrowfully, but abandoned the effort and rattled on, well aware that she was fanning his temper to flames and oddly excited by the prospect. “If you prefer, I won’t cook your breakfast again. Indeed, I hadn’t intended to do so, for it was my own breakfast I was cooking and you
stol—
commandeered it.”

With a grubby hand she pushed a straggling curl off her face, leaving a smear of dirt in its place. Unaware, she continued, “I gather you didn’t like it after all. But I dare say you are one of those people to whom the mere thought of breakfast is anathema. Perhaps the consumption of food at such an early hour made you
feel.
. .unwell? Certainly, if you’d been drinking the night before… I do seem to recall…” She lowered her eyelashes discreetly.