She blinked and then, recognizing his offer for what it was, nodded.
“I would like that.”
“The house or the grounds? You choose.”
She only paused a moment. “The house first, I think.”
“The house it is.”
HE’S A SMUGGLER!
Amelia clutched her hands at her waist, walking beside this man who, unlike every gentleman she’d ever known, didn’t offer his arm. She’d wanted to be annoyed with him, for not answering her questions—for treating her the same way everyone else always had.
It wasn’t the plantation, of that she was fairly certain. She’d seen it in his eyes.
Was this tour meant to be a peace offering or a convenient diversion?
Regardless, she allowed herself to be distracted as he walked them through the lower floor, where he did, in fact, keep a tidy library, a very serviceable dining room, and two different parlors, one of them empty, the other in use by a few of his servants. Both had been fitted out with comfortable furnishings.
They then began climbing the wide staircase, and she grew curious when he explained that he’d only renovated the first two floors.
“Where are the servants’ quarters, then?” she asked.
“We don’t need any.” He turned to meet her gaze, his eyes unguarded, and she saw more than a hint of pride there.
“But… you have servants.”
“My team, yes. There are more than enough bedchambers to house them.”
Amelia blinked. That option had not even occurred to her. “Do they share?”
“No.” They arrived at the landing, not far from her chamber, and began to stroll along the corridor. “No need. As I said, there’s more than enough room.”
Amelia couldn’t help but contrast Smuggler’s Manor with her father’s home. “We have seven additional bedchambers at Cherrywood Park. They sit empty except for one or two weeks out of the year.”Furthermore, Mr. Beckworth’s servants were apparently welcome in the main parts of the house...
“That’s not surprising.” He sent her a sideways glance. “The aristocracy is nothing if not wasteful. So much excess.. They don’t appreciate what they have, what so many can’t even imagine.”
“Such as? Besides the obvious.” She genuinely wanted to know.
“Privacy,” he said. “Growing up the way I did, it wasn’t something I ever experienced.”
“You slept outside?” She’d heard stories of people sleeping in doorways, and even though he’d told her the nature of his childhood, it was almost impossible to picture Mr. Beckworth being so helpless.
“A few times.” He shrugged, and his arm brushed along hers. That simple touch had her longing to lean into him. “A gang of us took over an abandoned warehouse near the docks. When the owners tried to put us out, we fought back.”
They’d almost arrived at the end of the corridor, where she could see the sea through a large window.
“You didn’t have much choice, did you?”
He shook his head. “Not really. They chased us out a few times. But we had… methods for reclaiming our space. In the end, it was cheaper for them to move their business elsewhere.”
Amelia shivered, but then he finally took hold of her arm, drawing her closer to the window. “I wanted you to see this.”
It was a similar view to the one in his study, but from a higher vantage point. She could even see hints of sandy beaches beyond the edges of the cliffs.
The sight was lovely, certainly, but it couldn’t distract her from the tragedy of his childhood.
“There aren’t bedchambers in abandoned warehouses, are there?” Shame nearly crushed her. How had she gone her entire life blind to the conditions of those she’d been told werebelowher. “That’s why you provide them for your servants.”
