Deb Marlowe - Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick

Mesmerised, Chloe stared. Since the day he’d agreed to let her stay on, Lord Marland’s manner had been cool, unflappable and frustratingly distant. As passionate as she knew him to be about his weapons collection and the elaborate wing they were constructing to showcase it, she’d seen evidence of it only in his unending dedication to the project. He’d never given her so much as a glimpse of what lay behind his obsession or how he truly felt about it and she had learned not to ask. This sudden flash of emotion set her to blinking. She felt as if she’d caught wind of something far more rare than Skanda’s alleged spear.

‘You’ve amassed a network of sources that puts even your father’s to shame. Use it. Track it down,’ he ordered, retreating into bland politeness once more. He gestured towards the papers on her desk. ‘I know you’ll find it. You’ve never failed me yet.’

He turned back to his weapon, running slow fingers over the length of the curved blade. A shiver of longing skittered up Chloe’s spine, tightening her nipples and setting her insides to sizzling. She suffered a vision of those big hands touching her with such precision.

Abruptly the marquess flourished the sword he’d been working on, slashing bites out of the air with practised ease. ‘This is interesting,’ he said, caressing the pommel. ‘A hodge-podge of a piece, with the lion’s head and the fancy basket guard. A cavalry sword, I’d guess, but the blade …’ He ran careful fingers along the curved edge. ‘It is unmistakably from an earlier weapon. Repaired after battle, perhaps?’ He stared at the thing, musing. ‘Scots made, in all likelihood. Not fit for display, but excellent for practice.’ A slow smile spread across his face. ‘It puts me in mind of the first old blade that I ever found.’

Chloe’s heart leapt, though she was careful to keep her expression neutral and her gaze fixed on her next book selection. She had no idea what might have brought on this unusually candid mood, but she had no wish to inadvertently put an end to it. ‘Is that how you began your collection?’ she asked casually.

‘Have I never told you the tale?’ A wry grin put a lie to the innocent question.

‘Not that I recall,’ she replied, turning a page and keeping her tone absent. All of her insides were aflutter at the idea of Lord Marland sharing such an important piece of his past.

‘Ah.’ For several long moments he said no more. The workroom filled with a companionable silence, broken only by the distant clatter of workmen and the rasp of the polishing stone over his tarnished blade.

‘I was young—perhaps twelve years at most,’ he said eventually. ‘I was exploring the eastern boundaries of my father’s land. Near the shore there are long stretches of rocky ledges that eventually expand into cliffs.’

Chloe glanced up. ‘Yes, I’m familiar with the area.’

The marquess looked surprised. ‘Are you?’

She shrugged. ‘I enjoy the seaside.’

He stared at her a moment.

Inexplicably, his startled expression began to irritate her. ‘It may come as a shock, my lord, but I do continue to exist once I step out of this workroom and beyond the new wing.’

‘Yes, of course.’

She raised her chin. ‘I find the sea to be soothing. Ever changing and yet constant at the same time—it comforts me. I go whenever I can, especially in the months since my father passed.’

Lord Marland blinked.

What was she doing? She was breaking their code, the unwritten rules that had allowed them to exist in harmony these many months. But there truly was something different about her today. Her inner landscape was shifting and the words would not stop bubbling out. ‘Some day I hope to have a home of my own, near the sea.’

A flash of bleakness darkened his expression, just for an instant. Chloe winced. She’d gone too far.

Charged silence stretched between them. Breathless, she waited.

He’d turned back to his work. ‘I found a cache, built of stone,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, but he’d lost the open, contemplative tone that he’d started with. ‘It contained a musty old sporran, a disintegrating bit of plaid and a heavy, gorgeous broadsword, corroded by the sea air.’ A sigh escaped him. ‘I could barely lift the thing, but I thought it the most marvellous thing I had ever beheld.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe caught a small flutter of movement. Silently cursing the ill-timed interruption, she turned her head towards the door. She expected to find yet another workman with a question or problem—but to her surprise, she discovered a strange woman standing there.

Chloe stiffened. In an automatically defensive gesture, she reached to tug her coat straight.

The woman caught her eye and smiled. ‘You would have thought it was a sultan’s treasure that he had found—’ she spoke as if she had been included in the conversation all along ‘—instead of a pile of mouldy discards.’

The sword clattered to the table and Lord Marland was up and bounding to the door before Chloe could blink an eye.

‘Mairead, you minx!’ He lifted the woman off her feet in an exuberant embrace. ‘I was expecting you this morning.’

‘The roads were muddy from yesterday’s rain. It slowed us a bit.’ She returned his hug with enthusiasm.

Chloe stood, feeling extraneous. Lord Marland’s sister, of course. She had the look of her brother and the same appealing vitality. The square family jaw was softened in her case, while the strikingly high cheekbones were not. Lighter hair and a mouth more lush than wide combined to make her a strikingly beautiful woman.

The excited babble of happy greetings continued. Chloe spared a moment to wonder if the housekeeper had been apprised of this visit. She certainly had heard nothing of it.

‘You came through the wing,’ Lord Marland said eagerly. ‘What do you think?’

‘It is magnificent,’ his sister declared. ‘As striking and elegant as you could possibly have managed.’

‘And it doesn’t match a stick of the rest of the house.’ The grin he flashed at her held a definite boyish quality. ‘Father would have despised it, would he not have?’

‘Heartily.’ She laughed. ‘That’s what makes it all the more grand.’

‘Come.’ He tugged her towards the door. ‘Let me show you all that we’ve done.’

‘Of course, Braedon, I’m eager to see it—but won’t you introduce me first?’ Lady Mairead made an elegant gesture towards Chloe.

‘What?’ The marquess turned back with a frown. ‘Oh, yes—of course!’ Without the slightest discomfort he beckoned the forgotten Chloe forwards. ‘Mairi, I’m delighted to make you acquainted with my invaluable assistant, Hardwick. Hardwick, my sister, the Countess of Ashton.’

The curiosity on the countess’s face gave way to shock. ‘Hardwick?’ She rounded on her brother. ‘Do you mean to tell me that, all of these months you’ve been writing and expounding on the many talents of your Hardwick, you forgot to mention that she is a woman ?’

Lord Marland shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

Chloe’s face flamed. Caught between pleasure at the compliment—second-hand though it might be—and the ignobleness of having her femininity so casually dismissed, she found it impossible to do more than bob a curtsy in the countess’s direction.

Lady Ashton gave her a sympathetic glance. ‘Please … Miss Hardwick?’ At Chloe’s nod, she continued. ‘Pay no mind to my brother. He has always been the perfect embodiment of every exasperating male quality.’

Chloe could not help but silently agree.

‘I won’t bother to defend myself,’ the marquess said with a sigh, ‘since I can’t be sure just what I’ve already done to push the two of you into an unholy feminine alliance. Come, Mairi.’ He pulled his sister’s arm through his. ‘There’s so much I want to show you.’