“Would you like a cup before you attempt escape?” He half-grinned. “I’m afraid Cuthbert burned your offending garments last night, though he traded your family two chickens for fresh clothes this morning.”
She felt all the blood drain from her face even as he approached her with a mug.
“Sit, girl, you look faint. Drink this and eat a biscuit; for God’s sake put some meat on your bones.”
Charles let him guide her to a chair and push her into the seat, feeling numb to his touch, numb to all but a deep sense of despair. She let the rolling pin drop to table in order to curl her hands around the mug. And then she stared into its dark, steaming center, feeling utterly and completely lost.
***
Wells watched her, perplexed. “Do you not drink it black? I’m afraid we’re out of milk again, need a more reliable source here. So many bloody details to consider.” He grabbed another biscuit to stuff into his mouth, placing one beside her.
She continued to gaze into her mug, unresponsive.
“Charles,” he raised his voice, “you were not without words but a minute ago yet appear now catatonic, woman.Eat.”
“You burned my clothes.” Her head whipped around to face him. “You had the audacity to simply . . . without asking, without considering . . .” She shook her head at him, the hurt on her face undeniable. “How could you be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” He was taken aback. “They were ruined, what else should Cuthbert have done with them?”
“What else should he havedonewith them?” She was aghast. “Men,” she spat the word with disgust. “Worthless, utterly, every damned one of?—”
“Now look here.” His hackles rose. “I’m certain there’s a seamstress or two about your village and I dress my mistresses in far better clothes than the rags you sported last night. So there’s no need to twist yourself in?—”
“Youdonnat!”she shouted, incensed.
Wells could only guess at the meaning of her vernacular.
“I cannot simply walk into Timmon’s Dress Shop to order myself a frock, courtesy of Lord Wellesley,” she fumed. “What do you think people will say? They will know at once I am being kept here, a fallen woman. And what do you think they will say of my sister then, eh? That she is an equal disgrace, equally ruined. And then the men in town will all come sniffing about after her, thinking to sample her wares just as you have sampled mine.”
Wells was shocked but impressed by the passion vibrating through her, which made her even more attractive to him than she doubtless knew.
He watched her take a deep, steadying breath. “You had no right to burn my clothes, my lord; they were the only clothes I had. Your man brought no other dress back with him this morning, no valise of finery from my father’s home, because we’ve had to sell everything we own to keep from starving. And now you’ve gone and destroyed the only?—”
He put down his mug to take her hand in his. “Charles, I am sorry I?—”
She yanked it from his grasp. “You are sorry for nothing! You don’t give a fig about anyone but yourself. And I could have salvaged my dress. Are all titled Londoners so removed fromreality they do not understand filth washes out? Bloody hell, it is almost winter and you burned my father’s sole cloak!”
Her voice had risen to such a fine pitch he thought she might implode, making Wells do something he rarely did: apologize twice. “Charles, I repeat, I am sorry I . . .”
She put her face in her hands to breathe.
He was for once rendered speechless, staring at this woman who’d landed in his house last night and was proving to be quite the arousing handful.
She finally looked up at him, those sharp green eyes boring into his own. “You will not dress me like a tart,” she bit off, “and I will not suffer the humiliation of visiting the village seamstress. You will provide me with needle and thread and simple, functional cloth that I may sew myself a new dress and new cloak for my father. And I am going to pray your man had the sense not to burn my stays last night, for if he?—”
“If he did,” Wells interrupted, taking her hand again in his, more gently this time, “I will send to London for new smallclothes. We will measure you here so you are not subjected to a village fitting.” He did not point out the fact her words had sounded suspiciously close to an order, for one did not command a duke’s son. Ever.
This time she did not pull from his touch, but merely breathed, nostrils flaring as she inhaled the steaming coffee.
***
Charles felt suddenly drained of anger. She was still amazed by Lord Wellesley’s words, shocked a man of his position even knewhowto apologize. Although too much had happened in too short a time for her to know quite what to do with this revelation.
“I am sorry if my tone overstepped, my lord,” she added for good measure, recognizing she had likely offended his lordship and was still wholly at this man’s mercy.
It was a sobering thought.
He patted her hand before he let it go, getting up to pour himself another cup. “Then let us say the matter is settled and you will give me a list of items to purchase. It appears my morning is going decidedly poorly for me to offend first the stonemason and now you.” He sat down across from her, asking himself almost, “Is everyone in bloody Cumberland so easily riled?”
