Ann Lethbridge - A Regency Courtesan's Pride

She smiled at the young man. ‘Albert, Lord Tonbridge is going to help with our plans for the Skepton Asylum.

He and I are going to speak to the other mill owners. Who do you think we should approach first?’

Prentice twisted his hat in his hand; expressions chased across his face: chagrin, worry, doubt. He forced a smile. ‘Mr Broadoaks would be best, Miss Draycott.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All t’other owners listen to him.’

‘Is he married?’ Charlie asked.

‘Aye. Got four sons and three daughters, too.’

Charlie gave her a significant look. ‘I suppose the sons are out of leading strings?’

‘Aye. Two of them already help their Pa at t’mill.’

‘Benjamin Broadoaks was Grandfather’s best friend,’ Merry added. ‘He has been the most receptive to my ideas. He will help us.’

Prentice looked unconvinced. ‘Shall I speak to him?’

‘No,’ Charlie said, before Merry could answer. ‘Mr Broadoaks will receive a visit from me.’

Merry bridled at the tone of command. ‘From us,’ she said. ‘Mr Prentice, I have here a list of instructions for the mill. I think it will reduce production costs appreciably. Would you see to it, please?’

Prentice ran his eye down the notes she had made. ‘It might help,’ he said. ‘I’ll take it right away.’ He hesitated. ‘You are sure you were not harmed yesterday?’ His gaze darted to Charlie. ‘You were lucky out there on the moors with a snowstorm coming on.’

‘Very lucky,’ Charlie said.

‘I am fine, Mr Prentice. Thank you for your concern. Please give my regards to your mother.’

A muscle in Prentice’s jaw flickered at the obvious dismissal. ‘Mother will be most glad to know of your kind wishes, Miss Draycott.’ He bowed and went out, closing the door behind him.

‘Shifty-eyed bastard,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t like the look of him.’

Merry blinked.

‘Bursting in here as if he had the right,’ he continued.

‘He’s a friend and an employee.’

Charlie rose to his feet. ‘You may think of him as a friend, but do not be surprised if he has other designs.’

Had she been too friendly? Let the young man jump to conclusions? ‘Nonsense,’ she muttered. Dash it. Yet another problem to resolve. She couldn’t afford Prentice going off in a huff.

‘Time to visit Mr Broadoaks,’ Charlie said.

‘Not without me.’

He grinned. ‘Now why would I miss an opportunity to drive a lovely young woman out in my curricle?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I have a better idea. We’ll take the closed carriage. More private. And warmer.’

He smiled. ‘Why, my dear Merry, you are a naughty puss.’

She hadn’t been expelled from school for misbehaving with a gardener’s boy without learning a thing or two about taking chances when they came along. She cast him a sideways glance. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

‘Regretfully, I must decline.’

Dumbfounded, she stared at him.

‘My horses need exercise.’ It was a lie. She could see it in his face. But why? She tried not to care, not to feel rejected, but it didn’t seem to be working.

They were admitted into the courtyard of Broadoaks Mill, at the edge of town, by a child of about ten with a runny nose and a ragged jacket covered in white fluff.

There but for the grace of God, Charlie thought. Only an accident of birth separated him from the masses. He certainly didn’t believe in divine right. Charlie tied his horses to a post.

‘Master’s in t’office.’ The boy pointed to a set of wooden steps up the outside of the building.

Charlie gestured for Merry to go ahead and enjoyed the view of her shapely ankles and the sway of that deliciously curved bottom as she climbed. No wonder men had invented this bit of courtesy. Ready to catch them if they fell, indeed. It was all about the view.

To his chagrin, his body responded with enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected her to offer to be his mistress, and he’d had the devil of a time refusing. Not that she’d listened. The determination had been clear on her face. And damn him, he was looking forward to tonight with impatience.

He ought to be ashamed.

When they reached the wooden landing at the top, Charlie rapped his knuckles on the peeling green paint on the door on the narrow landing.

‘Come,’ a deep voice said.

Charlie ushered Merry inside. The room overlooked the mill floor on one side and the courtyard on the other. The elderly man behind the desk with red cheeks, a nose covered in broken veins and a full beard sprinkled with grey covering most of his lower face, hauled his bulk to his feet. ‘By gum, Miss Draycott. I weren’t expecting you! Not so soon after the meeting.’

If ever again, Charlie thought, searching the other man’s face for signs of guilt or disappointment. He looked genuine pleased to see them.

‘Come in, lass. What can I do for you? My word, young lady, don’t know when I’ve seen you looking more gradely.’

Bliss had that effect. She glowed with it. Charlie felt more than a little pride, though he kept his face completely expressionless as the mill owner turned to him with curiosity in his gaze. ‘I don’t think we’ve had t’pleasure, sir.’

‘Tonbridge,’ Charlie said. He put out a hand.

The older man’s eyes widened. ‘Mountford’s heir, if I’m not mistaken.’ Curiosity deepened in the muddy brown eyes.

‘Miss Draycott has done me the honour of accepting my offer,’ he said. Not a complete lie. The offer was merely not the one this man would expect.

He hoped. He was none too sure what the townspeople thought of Merry Draycott. He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of her himself.

‘By gum, lass,’ Broadoaks said, grinning. ‘Your grandfather would be in alt. My heartiest congratulations.’ He took Merry’s hand in his big rough one and patted it. Charlie had the urge to snatch it away, but held still. Finally the elderly merchant stuck out his hand to Charlie. ‘By thunder. A Mountford. Congratulations.’

Beneath the older man’s assessing gaze, Charlie felt a bit like a prize Arabian stallion. It wasn’t the first time he’d been accorded that kind of inspection, but usually it was the mothers who looked at him that way.

He managed a grim smile and shook the meaty paw. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Ah, you are a Mountford, all reet. By gum, a chip off the same block as your father.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ll wager Chepstow is crowing from the rooftops about this.’

A cold weight settled in Charlie’s gut at the sound of the familiar name. He glanced at Merry.

She winced and shook her head.

Charlie’s bad feeling travelled up to his chest. ‘Chepstow?’

‘The earl. From over York way,’ Broadoaks said, oblivious to the chill sweeping the room. ‘The Purtefoy family are her ma’s family. Not pleased with the marriage they weren’t. Always was a thorn in your grandpa’s side, lass, the way they treated your poor ma. But you showed them.’

‘You are related to the Earl of Chepstow?’ Charlie asked, hearing the growl in his voice, the building anger, but didn’t care to hide it. The earl was a crony of his father’s. A man with political clout of his own. And Lady Allison’s father.

‘He’s my uncle,’ Merry said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Guilty.

Charlie’s anger rose from his chest to the skin at the back of his neck. Had she played him for some sort of dupe? The hart in one quadrant on the shield on her gatepost came from Chepstow’s coat of arms, he realised. The rest of it, some sort of puffery. Hell. Why hadn’t he recogised it?

Broadoaks’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘Something wrong, my lord?’

Charlie stared at him. Wrong? It couldn’t be worse.