Secrets in Mourning (7 page)

“Well, I guess you have me completely figured out. If there is nothing else, I will have baskets prepared.”

Regally, she turned on her heel, and made it a few steps before he spoke. “One more thing. I’ll be joining you. Be ready to leave in three hours’ time.” Her only answer was a slight pause in her gait.

Watching her leave, he couldn’t believe he offered to go with her. He had every intention of making her do it alone, making her see that there were people out there suffering with so much less than what she had.

Why then, had he offered to go and to keep her company?

The chill he felt course through him at her dead gaze had disturbed him more deeply than anything he could remember.

What caused a person to develop such an ability as to mask every single emotion? She had them, surely. He had seen her struggle to rein her feelings in.

But what had she experienced in her life that would require such a skill?

The question seemed to drive him mad as he finished his task. Tossing the shovel aside, he made for the house, ready to bathe off the stench that he had endured for Victoria’s sake. But with their parting words, his plan had been sent askew. He didn’t find the pleasure in her discomfort that he should have.

In fact, he almost felt as if he owed her an apology.

Cursing, he slammed the door into his room, ripping off the stained shirt and breeches before climbing into the steaming water.

Usually one of his favorite indulgences, he took little enjoyment in the soothing heat. One thought, and one thought only, possessed him.

What had she been through? And with that question lingering in his mind, he promised himself that before her time was up, he would know.

Chapter 5

Fastening the long row of buttons on her jet glove, Victoria maintained a numbness that others usually found disturbing. Whenever an unpleasant feeling arose, whether from someone else’s spite, or her own dissatisfaction, she turned it off.

It had come in handy after so many years of bitter disappointment from her father. Repeated time and again, the words rose unbidden into her mind.
You are nothing more than a bartering tool, Victoria. You will marry a duke or be worth nothing at all. You are only as valuable as the connection you can procure.
Her father had said the words so often that she could see his facial expression, hard, unyielding. Nothing had ever been good enough for him. No accomplishment had ever drawn his praise. But he would have praised her for marrying the Duke regardless of his age, his personality, or how unhappy she, his daughter, would have been as his wife.
 

But what did that matter now? Her father was dead, had been for two years. He hadn’t been there to gloat, to finally take her into his arms and tell her how proud he was.

She cursed as the last button slipped twice, stubborn in its desire not to latch. Her father was gone, dead. And she had sold herself for the one thing he had wanted. Now, neither of them were happy. She was without friends, stuck in a country manor in Scotland that looked more like the home of a black knight in ancient times than an Earl.

An Earl that was as determined as his mother to make her life a living hell.

Take baskets to the poor? Never in her life had she done such a task, and had been grateful for it. Servants hated her, as did most other people.

With so little practice with the lower class, Victoria didn’t know how to see to their needs. In all likelihood, she would make them feel worse.

She could handle their scorn, because there was no doubt in her mind that they would loathe her presence. She had been bred for that. Bred to endure the solitude, the loneliness that came with pursuing a duke.

It just wasn’t something she wanted to deal with now. She was tired. Never in her life had she done so much physical labor. Never had she been forced to care about servants or tenants or, for that matter, anyone but herself. Never had she performed so much thankless work. There was always more dust, more dirty laundry, more meals to be planned, prepared, and cleaned up after. Now she was going out to take baskets to strangers, would struggle as she tried to think of comforting things to say to them during their time of need. That task alone exhausted her more than all the physical labor she’d been doing.

This was one of those days she questioned the value of thirty thousand pounds in her life. Was it truly worth it?

He
was coming with her. She was going out with a man who, if he didn’t outright despise her, was clearly indifferent to her. A man who worked his own land and was appreciated and respected by those over whom he had stewardship.

Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe in deeply. He would see her humiliation as she struggled with this task.

She shouldn’t care. He hadn’t been kind to her. And she certainly wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way.

“His Lordship is waiting in the foyer for you. Shall I tell him you’ll be down shortly?” Elizabeth, the maid, looked to the far wall in the room, not bothering to spare her a glance. Others would think that the servant was well trained, but by the rigidness of her shoulders, Victoria knew that it wasn’t her training, but the fact that the girl did not relish speaking with her.

No matter how much more understanding she had become of their plight in life, they hadn’t warmed to her. They probably never would.

“No, thank you. I shall join him directly.”

Not bothering to wait for another reply, the maid bobbed a curtsy and left.

Steeling herself for the afternoon, she walked down the halls and staircase with a calmness she didn’t feel.

Her façade was in place. Nothing would touch her.

“I see you are prompt. I appreciate that.”

The comment threw her off a little, bringing her to a faltering halt at the base of the staircase. “I saw no reason to delay.” The distasteful ring to her words came out unbidden, and by the flexing of his jaw, she could tell that he caught the tone.

Perplexed with her behavior, she followed his suddenly receding back from the house. Why had she said that? She was unnerved, yes, but there hadn’t been any reason to let him know it. Where was her discipline?

Surely, she had more than that. Or perhaps it had all fled when she had left London.

Shaking her head firmly, she denied that possibility. Without the rein on her emotions, she would never be able to finish the year out.

But his anger would need to be appeased. It would make the situation so much worse if they were to continue on, visiting the sick and poor in this manner.

She swallowed, knowing the words she needed to say, but knew they wouldn’t be easy. Words never were when you were unused to saying them. “I’m sorry.”

He halted so suddenly, she had to step to the side to avoid slamming into his back. “What?” He snapped around, searching her face.

“I said, ‘I’m sorry’.” She could tell he wasn’t certain whether to believe her or not. “Truly. I am somewhat nervous for these visits, but I should have had more tact as to not reveal that.”

“Nervous? Whatever for?” His confusion seemed genuine.

“Usually, when someone is ill, they have no desire to see me.”

“Why is that?” He stopped, adjusting to lean against the fence, waiting for her explanation. She had noticed that trait before, and she couldn’t decide if it was unnerving or comforting. He gave her his full attention, seemed to take in everything. She knew he didn’t miss one flicker of movement, one ounce of feeling that she had. She wasn’t sure anyone had paid that much attention to her in her life.

No one except her brother. He always seemed to know everything.

Trying not to squirm, she looked off at the horizon. The Earl was every bit as observant as her brother was. She would need every ounce of will power to keep from giving away things she would rather he not know.

“I’ve been told I have an unpleasant bedside manner,” she said wryly. A small quirk of her lips followed her words. Her brother had hated when she feigned nonchalance, but she didn’t care if it bothered the Earl.

He stood there quiet, and she knew he was searching for more information, but she wouldn’t give any away. He didn’t need to know anything more about her. Didn’t need to know her weaknesses. When others knew them, they could be used as a weapon.

“Well, let’s hope that it improves over time.” He began walking again, but at a slower pace, allowing her to walk beside him. A cart laden with offerings stayed a ways behind, providing them with privacy.

“And why is that?”

“Because this will be a weekly task for you.”

“Weekly!” The thought of her enduring this for one afternoon was almost more than she could stand, let alone knowing it would be something she would have to endure every week for a year. It was unthinkable.

A knot began to form in her stomach.

“Yes, weekly. Who else will see to the task? You are in charge of taking care of the manor, and that includes the surrounding tenants and the village.”

She saw the small smile he tried to hide and wanted to smack it off his smug face. He had seen though her mask and had realized how much she dreaded this.

Why was he so intent on torturing her? What did he have against her? She tried to stay out of his way, tried not to come to him for anything more than was necessary.

“I see. And will you be accompanying me every week?”

He seemed to mull the question over, but she knew he was just baiting her. “I think not. After today, you should be able to continue on your own.”

“How gracious of you.” There was no mistaking the malice there. It dripped from her words like acid.

“There,” he said, pointing to a small cottage nestled between two budding trees. “That is the first cottage we shall visit. Her daughter is sick with a fever, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a few extra loaves of bread.” He motioned to the cart following them to stop in front of the house.

Gathering their offerings, Victoria was more than happy to follow behind him, allowing him to take the lead. She didn’t know what to say, how to approach the strangers and offer them food. It all seemed so awkward.

She didn’t do much at the first location. The woman had been grateful, smiling at the Earl with gratitude as he asked after her daughter by name, listening with rapt attention as she explained what the doctor had said before handing her the loaves of bread.

It had all seemed easy enough at the first cottage, and even the second when the same thing happened.

With only a few stops left, Victoria was feeling more at ease. He didn’t expect her to speak, to ask after the tenants’ well being, only to stand by and smile. And that was something she could do.

After all, that was all anyone had ever expected her to do in her life.

“Here, I want you to take these to the last house,” the Earl said, handing her a loaf of bread and a jar of preserves.

“Me?” Having relaxed, Victoria wasn’t prepared for the request, and was unable to school her voice. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m absolutely serious.”

Her shoulders began to tense. “No. Why don’t you do it? It’s the last one and the people seem so happy to see you.” The compliment rang false. It was a desperate attempt to sway him and they both knew it.

“Why are you so afraid of this?”

The words were kind, and his question was filled with honest curiosity, but it made something inside her snap back into shape.

She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. At least she wasn’t supposed to look that way.