It was early. He didn’t have a pin for the watch yet, but he could clean and polish the insides, look for any rust or worn pieces.
A pity he couldn’t understand human nature the way he did mechanical parts. This gear turned that wheel and set off this spring. . .
A shutter rattled in another room. Shit, and here he sat in his bare feet and underwear. Domestication never paid off.
He checked that his rifle was loaded. As extra precaution, he shoved Kate’s ancient flintlock and ammunition in his waistband. Blowing out the candles and shuttering the lantern, he crept into the front room. Another rattle.
Hearing a footstep on the staircase, he glanced up. Wrapped in a worn robe, Kate silently stepped down into the dark parlor. Damn. He hated being responsible for women and children. There was a reason he stayed at an inn.
He gestured for her to stay back. She glared and held out her hand for her pistol.
Fine. He loaded it and handed it over. “Stand to one side,” he ordered.
Amazingly, she did so, with her back against the wall near the shutters.
Holding his rifle under his good arm, Fletch pulled the drapery from the rattling window.
The top pane was open and blowing in the wind through the shutters.
And here he stood in his underwear, ready to shoot the breeze.
SATURDAY
April 6, 1816
Seventeen
Kate
Kate was still biting back a grin the next morning when she filled the washtub to do laundry. She didn’t go to the manor on Saturdays and Sundays when the children were home. This was her time for cleaning, gardening, cooking, and preparing for the long week ahead. It was drudgery, particularly without Brydie here to laugh and liven up things.
But here she was, grinning like a silly gudgeon at the memory of the big man in his nightshirt, ready to shoot the wind. And her, shivering like a ninny, ready to do the same. She’d managed to cover her mouth to keep from laughing, if only in relief. Fletch had glowered, but when he hastily escaped to the dining room, she’d heard his rumbling chuckles.
A man who laughed at himself was a rarity, she knew. She liked him better for it.
He'd kept his distance this morning, though, toasting his own bread and ducking into the dining room to work. She was glad of that. She was evidently too starved for companionship if she accepted his surly offers of aid as anything except his ungracious means of repaying any debt he felt he owed.
She’d even found an old shirt of George’s and torn it into a fresh sling she’d tied more tightly so his arm would rest easier. She added his old one to the wash with his filthy clothes. Really, he was only more work. She didn’t need a man around the house. Surely, by now, Hugh had departed the area and was harassing some other unfortunate down the road.
She was just hanging the linens out to dry when Damien rode up. “Do you need your carriage back?” she called. “Rob has curried and fed the team.”
Her brother-in-law swung down. “The horses have more room out here. Brydie wants to know you’re still alive and haven’t killed Fletch, and Lavender says she needs you to set up the shop.”
“We’re all quite alive and I can’t work today or tomorrow. This is when I do all my washing and cooking. And I can’t ask Verity and Brydie to look after the children any more than they do! Lavender doesn’t need me for more than approval. Have her ask one of the manor ladies.” Kate briskly snapped another sheet and threw it over the line. Despite the clouds, the chilly spring breeze would dry them quickly, if she hung them in time.
“She says she’ll pay you twice your rate if you’ll come in. She’s wearing Rafe to pieces choosing shelves and tables and things he knows nothing about. Brydie can put Lyn and Rob to work. They’re not a burden.”
Kate hated saying no to Lavender, who had been good to her for so long. But she just didn’t see how she could manage everything. “I really can’t leave the laundry soaking wet and. . .”
Fletch stepped out, wearing his coat thrown over his injured shoulder. “Leave Rob and we’ll hang the clothes. It’s not as if I’ve never done it before.”
“With one arm!” She resisted. She didn’t want to depend on him.
Rob looked up from his woodchopping. “I can help. Aunt Brydie will make me mush dough and hoe weeds. I’d rather stay here.”
The argument didn’t last long after that. She needed the extra coins for birthday presents and maybe a new coat for Rob. And Easter was only a week away. Lynly needed a new frock. If Lavender was generous, and she usually was, the children could have both birthday gifts and Easter clothes. The house wouldn’t be clean, but they’d not die of a little dust, she supposed.
How did she thank the major for hanging clothes? Before she left with Damien, Kate hastily pulled her underwear from the basket and hung it upstairs in her room, leaving her window open to hasten the process so she’d have clean to wear to services tomorrow.
