Circumstances.
Was she not battling the same thing? She had spent the last few days waiting for information. Waiting for truth. Endless waiting. But what if this was as far as her journey took her? What if she never found her family? Would she be able to find happiness then?
Indeed, she’d be wise to take her own advice.
***
The hour was growing late, and the crowd was growing rowdy at the Green Ox Inn.
As James sat alone at a table waiting for Milton to rejoin him, he took a swig of cider and returned the pewter mug to the table with a thud before once again assessing his surroundings. He should be satisfied. He and Milton had just concluded business with two local sheep farmers regarding wool prices. But the news the farmer shared sobered him. A wagon transporting new power cotton looms had been attacked in broad daylight. Two men had been injured, and the loom had been destroyed with axes. The incident had taken place two villages over, but the violence was increasing in its frequency.
James toyed with the mug and glanced at the faces around him. He’d grown up in a village very much like this, where his father resembled the men around him: hardworking, suspicious of authority, and eager to make names for themselves yet deeply rooted in tradition.
After James’s mother had died when he was seven, he and his father lived in the countinghouse at their struggling textile mill, spending every waking hour surrounded by wool and workers and learning the value of hard work. His father remarried to Rachel’s mother when he was sixteen, and it was then he was sent to Micah Towler in Plymouth to learn the shipping details of the trade.
James became acquainted with the business quickly, but even more importantly, he earned Mr. Towler’s respect. He’d been treated as a member of the family, which gave him the opportunity for his attraction to Mr. Towler’s daughter, Elizabeth, to grow.
He married at twenty-two years of age—ten years ago now—much younger than his mentors advised and much to the chagrin of Mrs. Towler, but neither he nor Elizabeth would be deterred. She had possessed every quality he ever could have dreamed of. She’dbeen divinely beautiful. Poised. Elegant. But what was more, they’d shared a passion for their future—one that they hoped would take them out of the bustle of the city back to his roots in Yorkshire.
Their plans changed when apoplexy claimed Mr. Towler’s life not even a year after their marriage. Mr. Towler’s holdings transferred to one of his nephews, leaving Mrs. Towler in reduced circumstances with very little to live on. James took all the knowledge he had learned from both his father and Mr. Towler and established his own shipping company, and for the next several years he continued to single-handedly grow their finances and dealings until he was a respected businessman in his own right: Shrewd. Calculated. Clever. They had surpassed either of their fathers before them, but when Elizabeth died, his world shattered. There seemed little point in remaining in Plymouth. He sold the business and purchased Briarton Park and Weyton Mill to return to the work his father had taught him.
The entire experience had been one difficult decision after another, and now he had a new decision to make. Miss Hale had presented him with a very interesting proposition. His girls did need a governess, and the governess his mother-in-law had chosen was not available for several months. Maria and Rose needed guidance, and Mrs. Towler was not providing it.
And he genuinely liked Miss Hale. She was direct and to the point, sure of herself and determined, and dignity and integrity seemed to rule her actions. She was unlike any woman he’d ever encountered.
But something about her gave him reason to pause. She possessed the sort of beauty he thought about at the oddest times. It was unnerving. She was the first woman he’d taken notice of since Elizabeth.
Initially it didn’t really matter, he’d told himself. For she would eventually leave the area.
But she was gradually weaving herself into the fabric of their lives. First as a friend to Rachel, but a governess? Living in his home?He could be professional, of course, for he did think her a good influence for his girls. But to be faced with that temptation, day in, day out, was another matter entirely.
He missed Elizabeth.
He always would.
But he also missed feeling connected to someone. And attraction was just the start of how those feelings could develop and deepen. He was strong enough to face a great many things, but was he willing to risk the idea of losing someone again?
“Warrington, if I am not mistaken?”
The deep voice pulled James from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a finely dressed stranger approach his table.
The white-haired man nodded to the empty seat across from James. “May I?”
Oddly grateful for the reprieve from his own thoughts, James leaned back in the chair. “Be my guest.”
The man sat down. “Name’s William Longham. You don’t know me, I reckon, but I know you. You own Weyton Mill. You live up at Briarton Park.”
It was not surprising that the man should know his identity, but with the recent unrest at local mills, it was a little disconcerting. “I do.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve passed many a day at Briarton Park. That was years ago, of course. I was—am—the late owner’s man of business.”
James raised a brow. “Robert Clark’s man of business?”
“Yes, yes indeed. Never thought I’d be back here though.” Mr. Longham lifted his gaze to the ceiling’s roughly hewn beams. “But duty calls.”
“And what duty is that?”
The older man pulled a pipe from his coat. “I understand you had a caller at Briarton. A Miss Cassandra Hale.”
