Page 19 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

“J ust what are you getting at, sir?” Annoyance rippled through Meredith, followed quickly by the most outrageous notion imaginable. She came to her feet, gaping at him. “Are you suggesting Mr. Ashcroft is trying to seduce me?”

His tightened jaw told her those were his exact thoughts.

She pressed the heel of her hand to the bridge of her nose.

“Lord Pender,” she bit out. “Mr. Ashcroft is nothing but what he seems. Perlsea Keep’s latest steward.

A much needed and revered steward in my opinion.

Not only has he been instrumental in me meeting my aspirations for this community, but never once in the entire three years past has he hinted at such a ludicrous notion.

A more looming threat, sir, is my father’s unexplained visit.

He is well renowned for his controlling nature.

If you are concerned at all, then take my words to heart.

Rathbourne is the one who poses the danger.

A danger, I might add, to you. And me. The work I’m trying to accomplish in the village—”

“And, what work is that, Lady Pender?”

Fury, fast and sudden, tore through her.

“I’ll have you know, there wasn’t a single program for educating the children in this godforsaken hovel.

” She poked him in the chest with her index finger, then pulled back quickly at his narrowed eyes.

But that didn’t deter her tirade. “Hardly any of the women are literate. Yet they are expected to assist their husbands in their businesses, run their own shops. And do not get me started on the inhumane treatment and dangers the miners must face day after day under that blackguard Thornfield.” She was so angry she could hardly catch her breath.

He grasped her fist and he brought the tip of her finger to his lips.

Stunned silent by this unprecedented action, she could only stare, her eyes drawn to the lips that singed her skin.

“So, this evening you were…”

Meredith tried tugging her hand from him, but he held fast.

“Answer me.”

His voice seemed deeper than before. Inviting. Impossible to resist.

She drew in a trembling breath. “While Mr. Ashcroft holds school at Vestry Hall, I meet with some of the women in the village. I’m attempting to teach them practices for helping them with their businesses.”

“Their businesses,” he repeated slowly.

The fight went out of her and her shoulders fell as if he hadn’t spoken. “The men do not trust me.” It took a second inhalation for her blood to cool and reason to set in. “What possible purpose would Mr. Ashcroft have for inviting my father to Perlsea?”

“Exactly what I intend to learn.” His thumb caressed the heel of her hand in a mesmerizing rhythm that held her enthralled. “In the meantime, we must deal with the fact that the duke is here. What do you propose we do? You know him better than I.”

His words penetrated and she winced. “As much as I hate admitting it, we must not let him see the true state of our marriage.”

He grinned, that in the low light appeared sinister. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“On. The. Surface.” She punctuated her words with a stomp on his foot, initiating an immediate release of her hand.

“Hmm.” That sounded ominous amid the low grunt he attempted to hide. “All right. Well, the first thing we require is getting me down these blasted stairs and to my bedchamber.”

She frowned, wondering how she could have forgotten. “I’ll get Bartlett. He should be able to help.”

“No. I can make it… with your help. I don’t want anyone learning about this chamber.”

“You won’t encounter any argument from me. I love knowing I have my own refuge no other is aware of.”

“Except me.”

She scowled. “Yes. Except you.” Her brows furrowed. “But why should it matter if anyone else knows?”

He glanced over his shoulder into the gloom, his expression shielded from her.

“I’m not sure. The journal you found, the hidden room, perhaps?

” He turned back to her. “I find there are too many unanswered questions for my comfort. From Thornfield’s power over the miners to Ashcroft’s appearance to the fact that we had no choices in our life’s partner, to name a few. ”

“Oh.” The sense of dejection trickling through her hurt. He could hurt her. “Yes, I-I see what you mean.” She steeled her tone. “Except for Mr. Ashcroft. I refuse to believe he is other than he’s presented himself. A traveling scholar turned land steward.”

*

Resentment tinged with envy peppered Lucius. “That certainly explains his lack of attention to detail when it comes to the estate’s accounting ledgers,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” he said through a clenched jaw. The topic was now a matter between him and Ashcroft. Contentious as it may be .

To his irritation, the silence between them thickened.

Her defense of Ashcroft stung. Left Lucius dangling with unresolved emotions he couldn’t expound on as they made their way painstakingly down the stairs.

The walls loomed around them, casting long shadows from the oil lamp she managed to keep steady.

If he so much as mentioned having found that list of names which he now suspected were the previous stewards of Perlsea Keep, it might send her running straight to the man.

Whether to warn him or to demand answers was the question he had. And Lucius didn’t like either option.

They reached the lower level and he balanced himself, using the wall for support. She guided him to a heavy door, but with a warm hand on his arm, she stepped in front of him to peer on the other side before allowing him through.

The large, cavernous room they stepped into swept him back to a time long forgotten.

Low-lit sconces showed he’d entered the family level just inside the portrait gallery he remembered from his youth.

How proud his mother had beamed when talking of each one of her ancestors whose portraits still lined the walls, now coated in thick layers of dust. Of course, he couldn’t recall a single name, just the feelings she’d projected.

Wistfulness, despair, all intermingling with a trace of sadness and inevitability that rained over him.

He recalled with great clarity being distracted with his three-year-old brother screeching, then laughing at his own echoes that ricocheted around and throughout the hall.

Mama’s small smiles had squeezed his heart to near bursting at the time.

But when she’d scooped up a giggling Noah and swung him around with pure joy, Lucius remembered staring, astonished by the spontaneity he’d never witnessed from her before or since that day.

Christ, he hadn’t thought of that, of her , in years. He’d no idea where his father had disappeared at the time. There were no recollections of him except upon arriving at the Keep. Then their sudden departure under a cloud of his usual abruptness.

“Are you in much pain?” she asked, startling away his memories. How did his wife’s voice sound so… so musical? Docia’s voice had never seeped into his skin in such a fashion.

His breaths seemed weighted and echoed back just as Noah’s childish laughs had all those years ago. “I’ll live,” he growled, again stunned by the unexpected waves of nostalgia nearly drowning him.

The rest of the way to his chamber was made in a hush he was unequipped to break, just their footsteps on the flagstones beneath them.

Upon arriving, he found his door slightly ajar, as if Graham had anticipated his return.

His wife pushed open the door and snapped, “Your master requires your immediate assistance.”

Lucius scowled. “I’m not dead,” he muttered.

Graham rushed forward and stopped short, his brows lifted. Lucius glanced down at his attire now completely covered in grime then groaned.

“My lady,” Graham acknowledged with an incline of his head. “Might I enquire what’s happened?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Lucius cut her off.

“We discovered the dungeons. Quite a perilous descent,” he said using Graham’s aversion to dark dank spaces, particularly those underground, to stem any questions.

The man had an irrational fear of being buried alive. Though why, Lucius couldn’t imagine.

His wife’s—he really should learn her name—moss-green eyes shot to him, while she did her utmost to stifle a quirk of her mouth yet not quite succeeding.

“Er, yes. The dungeons,” she said.

A delicate shudder quivered over his valet. “I’ll take over from here, my lady.”

“Be careful. He’s hurt his back. It’s a wonder he didn’t tumble down the stairs. Er, back down the stairs,” she clarified quickly.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you shouldn’t keep your father waiting,” he said pointedly.

“Good heavens, you’re right,” she said in a breathless rush.

She spun for the door, but Lucius snagged her hand before she could move out of reach, and tugged her into him.

Swallowing the sharp twinge from the sudden move, he tilted her chin up and brushed his lips over hers. “Give him my regrets, darling. ”

Her free hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widened.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, and he thought perhaps he saw his own thoughts reflecting back as the silence blared between them. Thoughts filled with unspoken doubts and too many complications to currently voice. Something in him softened and he squeezed her hand. “Go,” he said, gently.

“Take care of him,” she murmured to Graham. With a sharp nod and without another word, she slipped out.

The second she fled the chamber, the dull ache in Lucius’s back raged to the forefront. He took a step, and a sharp burst of pain stabbed him with the edge of a dull spoon, digging into his skin.

“What the devil happened?” Graham demanded hurrying to assist him.

“I fell, as Lady Pender said,” he grunted out. “Now, blast it, she’s forced to deal with Rathbourne. Patch me up. I don’t wish to leave her to that cur on her own. He’s up to something and I have every intention of learning what he’s about.”

Graham edged him to the bed. “Would that I was a genie, my lord. Can you lift your arms?” It took the man twenty minutes to divest Lucius of his clothes. “Lie down.”

With a great and pain-filled effort Lucius did as directed.

“It’s inflamed. You require a liniment. I daresay you’ll be indisposed for several days.”

Again, Lucius grunted. “We’ll see.”

Graham could be a dictatorial arse, many times blurring the line between servant and master.

But in this instance, Lucius found he didn’t have the energy to argue his cause.

He rested his head on folded arms and thought of the underlying strength his wife possessed.

His own surprise, well… surprised him. Not just the fact she’d been able to assist him physically.

It was her confession of helping the village women, finding ways that strengthened her— their —position within the community that struck him.

Backbone and perseverance in the face of adversity. Like teaching her lady’s maid to read.

No one had ever challenged him thus.

He closed his eyes and remembered the pamphlet he’d pilfered from her escritoire. “Give me that booklet from the chest of drawers,” he said gruffly.

“This one?” Lucius opened his eyes to see Graham holding out the pamphlet with the block lettering. His brows lifted. “The Clandestine Sapphire Society?”

“Yes. And bring the light closer.”

With a shrug, Graham did as he was bade then turned for the door. “I’ll return shortly.”

Lucius read through the material in short order.

Clearly, it had been written for an unsophisticated audience.

The tone within spoke volumes to him. He recognized portions that were definitely reminiscent of his wife.

And perhaps Miss Wimbley who’d appeared in Northumberland for Father’s services.

Though he hadn’t spent much time with her, she’d certainly made an impression on his younger brother, Julius.

In the quiet of Lucius’s chamber, other things began to coalesce in his head that drowned out some of his physical discomfort. The words in the booklet he’d just read, the frank conversation with his wife earlier that night.

Rather than complaints, she chose to respond with actions.

Had she deserted the community after his own desertion three years ago?

No. It likely hadn’t even occurred to her.

A realization he hadn’t even considered pounded through his veins—his Aunt Vera was cut from the same strip of fabric.

It wasn’t something that should even matter but somehow it did.

He suspected his wife was loyal to the nth degree.

Something he couldn’t claim for himself, leaving him with the untenable feeling of…

shame. He shut his eyes against that thought.

For now, leastways, to concentrate on things within his control.

Did her actions, her assistance in the community, make her na?ve?

An easy mark for the likes of Ashcroft, Thornfield, the duke ?

Her work with the women she spoke about stopped him cold.

God knew how the men would react once they learned of the matter.

A streak of protectiveness toward her rushed through him and left him stunned.

His thoughts gravitated to how intimate their situation had just shifted.

How close her lips had been to his. The liberty he’d taken in stealing that most unsatisfying kiss before she escaped his chamber.

How soft her hand had been, even tightened into a fist, its soft skin beneath his palm while her finger had jabbed his torso. She was a conundrum.

But he warned himself on capitulating so soon, so completely. It had been her idea to show her father there was no contention between them. And, after the enlightenments he’d been awarded that evening, he was more than happy to play.

Such was his last thought as exhaustion overtook him.