“You’ve retained a new governess,” he stated. “One that claims to be my father’s illegitimate child.”
“I’ve employed a governess, yes. But I fail to see how who I take on to care for my children is any of your concern.”
“Oh, it is very much my concern. That daft woman is spreading nefarious lies about my family.”
James lowered his tone. “I required a governess, Clark. Nothing more. I’ve no interest in her personal life. Or yours.”
“Oh, don’t you? So the fact that she is set to inherit the land on which my very mill sits is of no concern to you?”
James winced. He knew nothing about Miss Hale inheritingland.
“Don’t pretend you’re unaware. If you are involved in something underhanded to get your hands on my property—”
“You’re mistaken.”
“You just happen to employ her?Her?Ha!” scoffed Clark. “What are you trying to do? Woo her and wed her so her land will become yours?”
James adjusted his stance. “Careful, Clark. You’re crossing a line.”
Clark’s harsh stare narrowed. “These are precarious times. Dangerous. As mill owners and neighbors, we can either work together or we can work against each other. But I, for one, will not work with someone I cannot trust to have our mutual best interests at hand.”
Clark stomped out of the door, then slammed it shut on his way out, rattling the windows in their panes.
James expelled his air in a puff and rubbed the side of his jaw. This issue surrounding Miss Hale was becoming a bigger and much more complex problem than he had anticipated. He did not wish to make an enemy of Clark, but Miss Hale had saved his sister. He owed her something. Furthermore, he believed her.
He returned to his desk, sank into the chair behind it, and stared into the fire. He had to get a handle on this, and quickly. There was just too much at stake.
***
Cassandra stood outside Mr. Warrington’s study, staring at the brass doorknob, garnering courage.
She shouldn’t be surprised that the father of the children in her charge wanted to speak with her. But the hour was late. Murky darkness had fallen outside of Briarton Park’s walls, and the girls were already asleep.
Fearing something was amiss, she smoothed her hair and shook out the folds of her gown, stalling for time as she mustered fortitude.
When she could delay no longer, she lifted her hand and rapped twice on the door.
“Enter.” His response was deep. Calm.
She pressed the wooden door open with her fingertips and looked inside. Mr. Warrington was seated behind the desk. Papers and maps were strewn about him. Candles were scattered around the chamber, their yellow glow adding warmth to the deep-green walls and worn furniture.
He straightened as she drew inside. He wore no coat, and his wrinkled cravat hung loose about his neck. His sandy hair was disheveled, and his linen sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. She liked his appearance—comfortable and approachable. He gave a quick smile and then motioned toward a chair.
“You wanted to speak with me?” she asked as she traversed the faded blue rug.
“Yes.” He waited for her to get settled in her chair. “How are you getting on with Maria and Rose?”
Her shoulders eased at the topic. “They are lovely girls. So spirited, so vibrant, so clever and bright. And I think your Maria might have talent with a paintbrush. Have you ever noticed?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“You should see her painting of a goldcrest. There seems to be a nest in the boxwoods at the orchard’s edge, and we took the easels down so she could paint it. I’ll have her set it aside for you to see tomorrow. Quite impressive.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s going well. Do you have everything you need? Books? Paints?”
“I have given Mrs. Helock a list of a few more items I think we will need, but we’re doing fine.”
He did not respond to this last statement, and his expression shifted slightly.
