That Despicable Rogue Page 13
‘Then surely it is morally wrong for you to enter into a game with a gentleman who does not possess your particular talent?’ She appeared to be positively outraged and leaned forward again, her face filled with challenge.
‘I am not a cheat, Prim, if that is what you are accusing me of. I keep track of the cards, and I can speculate on what my opponent holds in his hand, but I have no control over how he plays it. Strategy is just as important in most card games. That is why I never play hazard. With dice there are no patterns—and definitely no strategy. It is a game of pure chance.’
‘You only indulge in gambling that brings you a profit!’ she blurted out. ‘Isn’t that how you stole Barchester Hall?’
Hannah regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
‘I am sorry, sir. Sometimes I say things that I do not mean.’
‘Oh, I think you meant it, Prim,’ he replied curtly, ‘So now we can add “cheat” and “thief” to the list of character traits that you attribute to me. They go quite nicely with “drunkard”, “libertine” and “debaucher”. It’s a wonder you agreed to sit in the same carriage as me. You should write for the newspapers, Prim. They paint me as quite the scandalous fellow as well.’
Hannah could not think of a response straight away, and was already swamped with guilt for saying what she had, but he did not appear to expect one. Instead he leaned back against the bench, rested his head on the leather and closed his eyes.
Whether or not he actually slept she could not say. But he remained like that for the rest of the journey.
Chapter Thirteen
When they arrived at the warehouse he left her to her own devices. He pointed vaguely in the direction she needed to go and instructed a burly-looking man to carry whatever she selected to the carriage and then he disappeared into an office at the back of the huge building without another word.
Regardless of the fact that he was probably a cheating, thieving libertine, Hannah felt strangely guilty at having so bluntly let him know how much those things disgusted her. His feelings were hurt. She knew that with a strange certainty.
She had seen it briefly flicker on his face when she had issued the barb. First hurt, then anger and disappointment had shimmered in his green eyes, as if he had expected more of her. But still he had refused to deny her accusation—nor confirm it, she was forced to note. He had merely extricated himself from further discussion and let her think exactly what she pleased—as if it did not matter to him one way or the other what she thought of him.
But she now knew that it did—and it bothered her that she had made him feel that way.
With less enthusiasm than she had expected, Hannah sorted through the hundreds of bolts of fine silk that were stacked on the far side of the warehouse.
She had not expected the building to be quite so large; the sheer size of it and the amount of material and boxes within it were astonishing. Neither was the fabric or the porcelain gaudy. Jameson had more taste than she’d given him credit for. Why she had expected less, when he was so outrageously successful, she could not say. Except that she had hoped he lacked such genteel instincts. He was easier to cope with if she could continue to label him a vulgar, uneducated and uncultured social climber.
She ran her fingers lightly over a bolt of the palest eggshell-blue fabric with delicate navy and white embroidered flowers. It would look perfect in one of the bedrooms.
‘Hello, there!’
The arrival of a very handsome blond gentleman startled her, and she blinked at him in confusion.
‘I am sorry—I can see I have given you quite a fright. Let me start again. Hello, I am Captain John Carstairs, co-owner of this wonderful warehouse, and you must be Miss Hannah Preston—Ross’s housekeeper?’
He held out his hand and she politely shook it.
Captain Carstairs was nothing like she had envisaged either. He was not coarse or common, as she had imagined a merchant seaman would be, and judging by his cultured accent he was from the ranks of the aristocracy.
‘Yes, I am Miss Preston. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.’
‘I did ask Ross to come out and make the introductions properly, but something has put him in a foul temper and he is refusing to tear himself away from the ship’s manifest.’
Captain Carstairs had such an open and friendly smile that she instantly felt comfortable in his presence. ‘I am afraid that I might be the cause of his ill mood, Captain Carstairs. I spoke out of turn to him and he has every right to be angry with me.’
‘Really?’ The captain could not hide his curiosity. ‘What on earth did you say? He is not usually one for sulking.’
Hannah felt the knot of guilt tighten and sighed. ‘I might have inadvertently accused him of cheating and stealing a house in a card game.’ Saying it out loud made her feel even worse, although she knew it to be partly true anyway.
Carstairs was visibly surprised, and then chuckled. ‘Well, I suppose that would do it. Although it is quite unfounded. I was with him that night and he most certainly did not cheat. Ross won that house fair and square. He even approached the family afterwards and offered to return it to them, but they did not want the responsibility of such a rundown estate. So he definitely did not steal it either. He would never do something like that.’
Hannah fought to stay calm at this blatantly false revelation. How dared he claim to have offered the house back to the family? She could state with absolute certainty that nobody had ever approached her about Barchester Hall after her brother’s death. However, she supposed such a lie legitimised his right to live in the house, so it should not surprise her.
‘I am sure you are right Captain Carstairs. I will apologise to Mr Jameson for my outburst. He had just explained to me that he has a particular talent when it comes to numbers and I put two and two together. It was unfair of me to make such an outrageous assumption.’
Hannah did her best to look contrite, and must have done a reasonable job because Carstairs grinned.
‘I am sure if you apologise to him he will get over it quickly enough. Allow me to give you a tour of the premises.’
He held out his arm politely and she took it.
* * *
Ross gave the ship’s manifest a cursory scan but his heart was not in it. He was still smarting from Prim’s hurtful accusation and he could not shake the thought that he had expected better from her. Yes, she was dishonest, and had probably been planted in his house by the East India Company, but she had also lived under his roof for over a month and seen first-hand the kind of man that he was.
At times, he had even thought there was something akin to friendship blossoming between them. That was what had initially hurt his feelings. Now he was just angry with her. Had it not been for the fact that John wanted to keep a close eye on her, he would have stopped the coach there and then, ordered her out and left her unceremoniously on the side of the road. At least he would like to think he would have done. He was not a soft touch, after all.
But why did the blasted woman continue to think ill of him when he had given her no cause to? Did she actually think him capable of those things?
The sad fact was that it was all so unfair. Thanks largely to the newspapers, he now had quite a dastardly reputation that was ill-deserved and so far from the truth that it beggared belief. She should have seen beyond that—but she hadn’t. People did believe all the rot that was written about him. And that was the problem, he supposed, if his own staff believed it. Not all of them, he rationalised, just Prim. Anybody would think that he had personally wronged her, the way she carried on. Or wronged her real employers.
John sauntered into the office and sat opposite him. After propping his crossed legs on the desk he regarded Ross levelly across its scarred surface. ‘I know her,’ he stated flatly, causing Ross to sit up straighter in his seat.
‘Who the hell is she, then? Is she from the Company?’
John shrugged and shook his head. ‘That’s the p
roblem. I am not sure how I know her or where I have seen her—but I recognised her lovely face the moment I clapped eyes on her. It has been a long time since I worked for the East India Company—I might have seen her there.’
Ross stood and paced the tiny office in agitation. ‘That is not much use, then, is it? If you cannot place the blasted woman then we are still fumbling around in the dark. I will not accept a Trojan horse and put in jeopardy everything I have worked for. I have a good mind just to give Miss Preston her marching orders and to hell with it.’
He ran a hand through his black hair in frustration. John let him rant and pace until the urge to rant and pace began to pass.
‘We cannot do that, and you know it. Not until we know what she is up to. The East India Company are capable of resorting to all sorts of dirty tactics—if they discover our supply chain they may well offer a better price just to put us out of business. But do not worry. I have already started to soften her up with my charm.’ John grinned wolfishly. ‘It is only a matter of time before she tells me all her secrets.’
Ross felt a surge of jealousy. If anybody was going to soften Prim, with her delectable naked bottom, it was going to be him. ‘No need,’ he stated firmly. ‘I am already working on her myself.’
‘Do I detect the merest hint of jealousy? Have you developed a bit of a tendre for your lovely young housekeeper?’
Ross resumed his pacing. ‘Hardly. But as it is my house that she is ensconced in, if anybody deserves the pleasure of softening Miss Prim and Proper then it is me. The woman irritates me intensely. Where is she now?’
‘I left her on her own and have instructed all the men to keep a close eye on her. They will report back if she wanders anywhere she shouldn’t or asks any pertinent questions.’
Ross grunted belligerently. In response, John smirked and picked up a letter-opener from the desk to toy with. ‘She does appear to have put you in a bit of a mood—although I dare say accusing you of cheating in order to steal Barchester Hall would probably put me in a bit of a mood too. If it is any consolation, though, she does feel bad about that. Even more so now that I have put her straight on the subject—although why you never even attempt to defend yourself against such slander is beyond me.’
Ross huffed, but continued to pace. ‘People will think what they want to regardless. I do not need to justify myself to them.’
He was done with all that. It was much easier to walk away from it than show people how much their disgust wounded him. He would not be pathetic and court good opinions. He would never give anyone that power over him.
‘Perhaps not,’ his friend mused, tossing the letter-opener back to the desk, ‘But when you continually fail to defend yourself with the truth, as you have done for so many years, you give them the opportunity to make even worse assumptions about your character. The very fact that you allow the newspapers to print all that drivel unchecked gives the blighters free rein to write whatever they want to. I know that bothers you.’
‘My dastardly reputation benefits us more than it hinders, John. We get left alone.’
Carstairs did not argue. ‘I just wish I could remember who she is. Perhaps it will come back to me if I spend more time with her. Do you have any objections if I come back with you today?’
‘You would be doing me a favour. I do not relish the prospect of another hour alone with her in the carriage. I thought I might die of frostbite on the way here.’
‘Shall I go and chivvy Miss Prim, then?’ John asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes, ‘Seeing as she likes me much more than she does you.’
Ross pinned him with his stare. ‘Thank you, but no. I shall do it.’
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah wandered to the carriage and stood waiting nervously next to it. At some point she was going to have to apologise to Jameson for her outburst. He had not stolen Barchester Hall—of that she was quite sure. Her stupid brother had practically handed it to him on a plate, and if Ross Jameson had not been the lucky beneficiary that night then somebody else certainly would have been. That did not mean she did not want it back, however, it just meant she was less angry with Jameson than she had been.
After a full five minutes of waiting for him to arrive, she decided to grab the bull by the horns and go and find him herself. She turned back into the warehouse and headed towards the door of the back office she had seen him disappear into. She turned a corner and slammed straight into the hard wall of his chest.
‘Hello, Prim,’ he said flatly. ‘Are you having a good nose around?’
Sensing that he was still rightly annoyed at her, she steeled herself for the humiliation of having to apologise. ‘I was looking for you, actually. I feel terrible about what I said in the carriage. I overstepped the mark and I am truly sorry for it. It is not my place to criticise you.’
He assessed her for a moment coldly before he pinned her with his mossy gaze. ‘That is a very pretty apology, Prim, but I am not sure that it cuts to the chase. You say that you are sorry for the words, and that it is not your place to criticise, but you still have not acknowledged whether or not you believe me to be a cheating thief.’
This cold, stiff man was somebody she did not recognise and it made her uncomfortable. ‘I believe that the Earl of Runcorn was an idiot to gamble away his home,’ she finally admitted. ‘It was hardly your fault that he did so. So to answer your question, no—I do not believe you to be a thief. I cannot honestly say what to make of you sometimes, but I am certain that you did not go into that card game with the express intention of cheating a man out of his property.’
After an interminable age he finally nodded curtly. ‘Then I will accept your apology on this occasion, Prim.’
His unspoken message was implicit in his eyes: this was a final warning about her behaviour towards him and he would not tolerate it again.
‘Thank you. I will do my best not to make unfounded judgements in the future. I truly am sorry.’ He appeared unmoved by her apology so she tried to change the subject. ‘I have taken the liberty of having the silk loaded onto the coach,’ she offered quietly. ‘It is ready to leave as soon as you are, sir.’
‘Then I shall inform Captain Carstairs of that fact. He will be accompanying us back to Barchester Hall once we have collected his things from his lodgings.’
This was the first time he had ever spoken to her like a servant and she found herself bobbing slightly in acknowledgement. Then he turned on his heel and went to find him, leaving Hannah alone with her guilt and confusion.
Fortunately the two men discussed business for much of the journey home, so Hannah passed the time by watching the scenery fly past the carriage window. Her wool-gathering was interrupted by Captain Carstairs.
‘What do you think of that, Miss Preston?’
Hannah blinked at him dumbly. ‘I am sorry—I was not listening. Would you mind repeating the question?’
Carstairs shared a brief look with Jameson and then smiled. ‘I asked what you thought about the concept of free trade, Miss Preston. Are you for or against it?’
She considered the odd question for a moment. ‘I have to confess, Captain Carstairs, that to answer your question I would need some clarity on what the term “free trade” actually means.’
Jameson sighed in exasperation. ‘Free trade would mean that goods could be imported and exported around the world without government interference and tariffs. For example, at the moment government-backed companies like the East India Company have a monopoly over certain trade routes. That means they can fix prices and have the backing of Parliament to prevent other companies from trading in the same places.’
‘If they fix prices, does that mean they can charge a higher price for those goods than is fair?’
Both men nodded vigorously at her question. ‘And they are able to significantly line their pockets in the process. Sometimes the price of tea or silk is doubled or tripled by the time it goes on to the English market,’ Captain Carstairs clarified.
Her answer seemed to please them, because they shared a knowing smile and then silence fell for a few minutes.
‘How do you like Barchester Hall?’ Captain Carstairs asked her, and she smiled in response. At least this was a topic she was knowledgeable on.
‘I think the house is beautiful. And once all the renovations are finished it will be as lovely on the inside as it is on the outside.’
‘It was sadly neglected,’ Jameson chimed in. ‘I do not think it had seen a bit of paint in decades.’
‘I cannot say I am surprised,’ Carstairs added. ‘Runcorn threw away his entire fortune at the gaming tables. I never liked that man.’
Hannah’s nerves prickled at this casual talk of her brother but she remained resolutely silent.
‘I cannot say I got to know him,’ Jameson replied. ‘Why didn’t you like him?’
Captain Carstairs leant forward a little in his seat and a pained expression crossed his handsome face. ‘He was reckless and quite pompous, as I recall—too full of his own inflated importance than he should have been. Nobody was fooled. We all knew that he was in debt up to his eyeballs.’
It was obvious that Captain Carstairs had moved amongst the ton, but Hannah could not place him at all. ‘Did you move in the same social circles as the Earl of Runcorn? I thought that you were a sea captain, sir.’ She tried to make her enquiry sound casual.
It was Jameson who laughed at her question.
‘Once upon a time John, here, was one of them—then his father disinherited him and he had to get an honest job. Oh, look—we are coming up to Barchester Hall now.’
As they turned into the long driveway Jameson pointed out how dilapidated some of the grounds were and their shoddy state embarrassed her.
‘I don’t think the Earl of Runcorn did a single bit of maintenance to the old place for well over a decade. It’s criminal, the way he left it to rack and ruin,’ he said disparagingly.