What a Woman Desires (12 page)

Cursing her determined independence into next week, Thomas strode around to the other side of the carriage and climbed into his seat, snatching up the reins before she took it upon herself to drive as well. Being made to feel redundant around the estate did not rest easy with him, and over his dead body would Monica treat him like a piece of lint on the lapel of her fancy riding habit.

“As you wish.” He slapped the reins onto Wilson’s rump. “Off you go, boy.”

Wilson, at least, did exactly as he was bid and they jolted into motion. For the next twenty minutes, only the crunch of the wheels and the call of the birds broke the silence. Time and again, Thomas glanced toward Monica’s hands, neatly folded in her lap, and tamped down the urge to lift one of them onto his knee. They rode side by side like lovers, but instead of sexual tension hovering between them, the tension of two enemies in the midst of an unresolved quarrel hung heavy in the air.

He cleared his throat. “Why do you need to see my parents? Didn’t you speak to them at the funeral yesterday?”

She looked at him. “Yes, but nothing was discussed. I want to allay your parents’ immediate fears as much as possible.”

Irritation simmered in his stomach. “How can that be possible when yesterday you asked me to accompany you to the city? You have every intention of attempting to convince me Bath is where you belong rather than Marksville.”

Her eyes darkened. “I asked you to the city so we are on an even keel. Today I will find out more about your life and tomorrow you will discover more of mine. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tell your parents they won’t be thrown from their home without a moment’s notice. I don’t want to do that to anyone . . . especially your kin.”

He ran his gaze over her face and took in the unmistakable sincerity in her gaze. He dropped his shoulders. “Well, like I said, they’ll be pleased to see you and spend some time. Although, don’t be surprised if we miss lunch in the village and end up being tied to Ma’s kitchen table.”

She smiled.

When the first of the tenants’ houses came into view, Thomas blew out a breath of relief. As fearful as he was of what would unfold inside the Drakes’ household, it was a lot more appealing than spending any more time fighting the need to extricate Monica’s intentions from her. The woman’s determination to keep him in the dark about what went on in that pretty head of hers was driving him insane.

He steered Wilson to the cottage gate and drew the animal to a halt. Monica immediately stood and Thomas lunged out to grip her arm. She turned, her eyes wide. “What is it?”

“Let me help you down.”

Amusement lit her blue eyes and a wide smile replaced her frown. “Does my independence really bother you that much?”

He scowled. “Not nearly as much as me wanting to see you land face-first in the dirt, but that’s not what the Drakes expect of me, so I won’t risk disappointing them.”

Her mouth dropped open and her cheeks flamed red. “Why, you—”

Smiling, Thomas leaped from the phaeton and strode around to her side of the carriage. He planted his feet apart and offered his hands. “My lady.”

She glared, but her mouth twitched as though she fought a smile. “Don’t you dare
my lady
me. You have no more respect for me as your mistress than you do Wilson’s aptitude compared to Jake’s. I’ll surrender to you helping me down, but only to save your masculinity from being usurped in front of the tenants.”

He nodded. “I’m much obliged to you.”

She shimmied forward and his hands splayed the narrow circle of her waist. For just a little longer than necessary, he held her, their gazes locked. Battling his want of her was like fighting unarmed against a cavalry, but fight it he would. He released her and she pulled herself up straight, her spine rigid. “Thank you.”

She moved past him and through the Drakes’ gate. Thomas drew in a long, strengthening breath before following on behind. She seemed to hesitate at the door before she raised her hand and knocked. It was nearing eleven o’clock, and as Thomas expected, it was Mrs. Drake who opened the door rather than her husband, who would likely have been in the fields since sunrise.

“Oh, Miss Monica.” Mrs. Drake pressed the cloth she held to her breast. “This is a surprise.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Drake.” Monica smiled. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Mrs. Drake glanced behind her into the cottage, a worried frown creasing her forehead. “Not at all, if you don’t mind two little ones running around. The place is a bit of a mess.”

Monica laughed and Thomas smiled to see the joy in her face. Monica peered through the door. “Are the little ones Hannah’s? How is she?”

Mrs. Drake visibly bloomed with pride and her eyes danced with instant happiness. “They certainly are.” She stepped back and gestured Monica inside. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

Monica smiled. “Thank you.”

Thomas watched Monica enter and the clear delight on her face at knowing children were there pulled hard at his chest.

“Thomas?”

He started and met Mrs. Drake’s inquisitive stare. “There’s always room for one more. Are you coming in?”

“Of course. Sorry.” Thomas removed his hat and approached her.

At the threshold, Mrs. Drake grasped his forearm. “Is she at Marksville to stay?” she whispered. “I didn’t dare to as much as catch her eye at Mr. Danes’s funeral yesterday for fear she’d tell me something I didn’t want to hear.”

Thomas glanced inside the house. “Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s just not jump to any conclusions. She’ll tell us what’s what all in good time. She asked me to take her around the estate this morning, so let’s get inside and hear what she has to say.”

Mrs. Drake nodded, but her eyes were filled with worry that Thomas felt helpless to appease or banish.

When Mrs. Drake held out a cup of tea to Monica, she maneuvered the tenant’s young grandson from her lap onto the small wooden seat beside her and took the proffered cup. “It is so good to see you looking so well, Mrs. Drake, and to know Hannah has found work at The White Horse.”

“Oh, they’re so pleased with her, Miss Danes. She works hard and takes all the hours they can give her. Her husband is working with Mr. Drake in the fields as we speak, so with a good harvest, they’re hoping to set up in a home of their own come the new year.”

Monica smiled.
So that’s what it looks like to see a mother take pride in her children rather than view them as a future commodity
. “I’m so glad . . . for all of you.” Monica sipped her tea and lowered the cup and saucer to her lap, a sudden bout of nerves leaping into her stomach. She glanced at Thomas. He held a mug between his hands at the kitchen table a few feet away. His gaze bored into hers and she snatched her attention back to Mrs. Drake. “So, I suspect you’re wondering what will happen with the estate now that my father has passed.”

Mrs. Drake stole a glance at Thomas. “Yes, but only share what you wish to tell me, miss. I would never expect to hear your family business unless it was necessary.”

Monica sighed, hating the way Mrs. Drake fidgeted with her shawl and clasped her hand to her throat. “Well, I’m afraid there’s little I can tell you. At least not for a few days anyway. Papa’s will has yet to be read and until it is, I can’t give you any solid information.” She smiled gently. “What I can tell you is my sister and I . . . Mama, too, will not see any of our tenants thrown out of their homes. If, and it’s a definite if, the house is to be sold, we will do our utmost to ensure the new landlord upholds everyone’s jobs and homes.”

The abrupt clunk of Thomas’s mug on the tabletop resounded around the room, making Mrs. Drake’s grandson almost fall from his chair. Thomas coughed. “But nothing is guaranteed.”

His gaze locked on hers and Monica glared. “I can guarantee I will do everything in my power to ensure no one loses their home. I can also guarantee I will negotiate the sale myself and not sell to anyone I think is going to dismiss our loyal staff before they have a chance to seek alternative employment.”

He shook his head and smiled wryly. “Just like that.”

“No, not just like that.” Monica gripped her teacup so hard the porcelain dug into her finger. She turned to Mrs. Drake. Her eyes were wide with fear as they darted from her to Thomas and back again. “Mrs. Drake, all I’m saying is try not to worry before the need arises. Nothing is written in stone as yet. Nothing. Until such a time as anything needs to change, I want you and Mr. Drake to go about your business as usual. You have my promise nothing will happen overnight.”

The skin at Mrs. Drake’s throat shifted as she swallowed. “So I can tell Mr. Drake for the time being we can continue to live here?”

Monica smiled. “For the time being and beyond.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little, but it hurt to see such fretfulness in Mrs. Drake’s eyes. When Monica woke that morning, she’d thought she could deliver reassurance to the tenants in such a manner that it would reflect the determination in her heart. She glanced at Thomas. What she didn’t expect was Thomas to undermine her authority so succinctly in front of his peers. When they were alone, she would have no choice but to make it clear his obstinate attitude had to stop. Immediately.

She took another long drink of tea and placed the cup on the table beside her before rising to her feet. “Thomas and I won’t keep you any longer. We have lots of people to see, as you can appreciate.”

Mrs. Drake stood and slowly, Thomas followed suit. The tense atmosphere pressed down on Monica’s chest like a lead weight. As difficult as she thought the day would be, reassuring the tenants grew considerably harder by the second, and this was only the first house of several she wanted to visit.

“I promise to be back with further news as soon as I know it.” She ruffled young Timothy’s hair and approached Mrs. Drake, taking her hands. “Please try not to worry. Know that I will do my best to keep things just the way they are.”

Mrs. Drake nodded and managed a small smile.

Releasing her hands, Monica glanced at Thomas and he stared straight back, his eyes dark and his face a mask to what he might be thinking. She made for the door, opened it, and walked along the short pathway with her head held high, but her heart thundering. So many people relied on her and Jane to do the right thing, to keep them in their homes and jobs. The pressure to deliver was immense and the solution still so vague in her heart and mind.

She patted Wilson’s neck and climbed into the phaeton, purposely looking across the adjacent field rather than at the cottage. The thud of Thomas’s boots on the packed dirt path announced his approach and Monica held herself stiff against the sway of the carriage as he came aboard.

With a grunt and a slap of the reins, they jolted forward once more.

Monica’s mind whirled as the way to broach the subject of his impertinence eluded her. Thomas was a strong man, determined and hardworking, and he silently demanded respect from those around him. He might well be a servant, but his brooding good looks and affable personality meant he exuded an inner confidence and authority that few dared to challenge.

If Monica was honest . . . those few included her. She inhaled. The memory of their kiss yesterday still lingered on her lips. Thomas’s passion pulled her to him on a sexual level above and beyond anything she’d ever known. It was as though her life in Bath amongst struggling actors, stagehands, orange sellers, and artists had ripped away the barriers of decorum and propriety that had been with her forever.

Now she wanted to roll in a bed with him and act out every fantasy she’d ever dreamed of. White cotton sheets, candles, and music as he gently swept a feather over her nipples, lower to her stomach, lower to her . . .

“Where next?”

The abrupt tone of Thomas’s voice cut through her contemplation and Monica’s cheeks burned. She sat a little straighter, purposefully staring ahead as her heart beat fast. “I think we should try to visit the Bradys and the Edmonds before we go to your parents. I want to speak to as many families as possible.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “More importantly, I want to talk about your interruption when I was talking with Mrs. Drake.”

Silence.

Monica’s hands turned clammy, but she lifted her chin and continued to stare ahead. She would not speak. She might not recollect her father speaking brusquely to his trusted groom, but she highly doubted Thomas disregarded her father’s wishes in front of other tenants. For now, she was in charge at Marksville, and Thomas’s behavior had to change if she were to instill any sort of trust in the people who worked for her family. She was determined to do everything in her power to alleviate the unease of their new situation. She glanced at Thomas’s set profile and cursed her cowardice when nerves fluttered in her stomach.

His face looked carved in stone.

He cleared his throat. “You mean the fact I underlined nothing is guaranteed for the Drakes or anyone else right now? Including you. Or the fact I saved you from making the mistake of promising something neither you nor I could possibly know will come true?”

She snapped her head around, her irritation gathering momentum. “Your impertinence has to stop. I have no idea what has put you in such a negative state of mind, but not once do I remember you challenging my father at every turn. You seem to think because we are . . .” Her cheeks burned.
What are we but mistress and servant?
“Because we have shared a friendship in the past, you have the right to pass judgment and comment on everything I say to you or anyone else. I will not tolerate it any longer.”

He stared at her, his eyes burning with a fire that made her involuntarily inch away from him. “I am merely trying to act as a buffer between you and the tenants. If you do not want—”

“I don’t.” Monica trembled with frustration. “I don’t want your buffering and I don’t want your interference. All I want from you is a little understanding and support. If you can’t do that in such a way not to undermine me, then I will do everything that has to be done alone.” Traitorous tears burned. “Believe me, it is something I’ve grown increasingly used to.”

Their gazes locked as Monica tried to catch her breath. He ran his gaze over her face, his attention dropping to her lips. His eyes darkened with something she could only describe as lust.

He blinked and snapped his gaze to hers before facing the track once more. “Do you still wish me to accompany you to Bath?”

The question jolted her. Why did he have to be so infuriating? “I’m talking about today, not what happens tomorrow or the day after. I want your assurance you will not interrupt me when I talk to any more tenants.”

“Right.”

Her irritation grew. “Does that mean you agree to behave properly from now on?”

“It means I understand you want me to concede to everything on your terms.”

She glared. “Shouldn’t that be the way for a servant and his mistress?”

He turned and pure rage burned in the depths of his eyes, his cheeks reddened with fury. “Fine.” He tightened his jaw. “From now on, I am yours to do with as you wish.”

She swallowed, heat sweeping over her body. Even his compliance seemed laced with sexual connotation. She lifted her chin. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

 

Thomas gripped Wilson’s reins tighter. He’d barely said a word to Monica in the last hour. The Edmonds hadn’t been home, and although the Bradys were, their silence as Monica explained she intended to do her utmost to ensure her father’s passing didn’t upset their lives, made her task harder than ever. He clenched his jaw. At least with Mrs. Drake voicing her fears, it had given Monica something to respond to.

The tenants’ silence was infinitely worse.

Now they were headed to Thomas’s home. Thomas’s family.

His gut knotted with protectiveness for his mother, father, and sister. No matter his promise to comply with Monica’s instructions from now on, it would be impossible for him to allow her to feed anything he believed to be without guarantee to the people he loved most in the whole world.

“Your silence speaks volumes, you know.”

He turned to face her. “I’m thinking.”

“You’re always thinking.”

“Do you want me to stop using my mind as well as my intuition?”

She glared, her beautiful blue eyes flashing fire. “We can’t go on like this.”

“Then maybe we should talk about what you have in mind to happen if it turns out the entirety of Marksville is yours. All you seem sure of is your need to return to the city.” He faced the road ahead. “I can’t be on your side or lessen my temper without proof you will do your utmost for the people I love.”

For a long moment, she said nothing and then exhaled. “Part of me cannot wait for the reading of the will so I know where I stand. The other part wants the paper to stay sealed for eternity.”

An inkling of sympathy whispered across his heart and Thomas purposefully tamped it down. She spoke of a problem that could only possibly be deemed insufferable by the upper middle class. Lord above, to have such problems of whether to return to Bath where her face was on every billboard as a celebrated star of the stage, or live in the country within an estate she owned. What a bloody dilemma!

He shook his head. “And why’s that?”

“Because with it sealed, I can pretend this heavy responsibility isn’t happening. I can pretend I am here for a visit, nothing more.”

Irritation hummed a warning through his blood and Thomas inhaled in an attempt to cool his simmering temper. “Jane is certain the master would’ve left the estate to you?”

“Yes, but I cannot believe it. Why would he? The minimum should be that he split the land between us.” She touched his hand and Thomas turned. Her gaze ran over his face, her eyes dark with worry. “I suspect Jane has feelings for someone here in the village and I don’t want to stand in the way of their courtship as Mama would have, but if I’m sole beneficiary, Jane will undoubtedly want to stay here if she is in love.”

Protectiveness for the young and inexperienced Miss Jane rose inside him. If the man in question was the doctor . . . “Has she told you who this gentleman might be?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea?”

“Not as yet, but I’m sure in time—”

“Time?” He glared. “Time is something you don’t have. This is serious, Monica. If you’re the sole beneficiary, that at least will lessen the interest of the man I think Jane might have been referring to.”

Her hand slipped from his and she frowned. “What do you mean?”

He inwardly cursed his inability to butt out of the Danes family affairs. It was none of his damn business whom Miss Jane did or didn’t fall in love with. “Nothing.”

“Thomas, please. If there’s something I should know about a man seemingly in love with my sister—”

“Love?” He huffed out a laugh. “The man knows nothing of love.”

“You know who she loves?” Monica’s eyes widened. “You must tell me.”

He briefly closed his eyes, wishing he’d kept his reaction to her questions under control. “I don’t know for certain, but the good doctor has been paying her a lot of attention for a while.”

“She has assured me it is not the doctor.” Her frown dissolved and her eyes lit with mischief. “Although from what I’ve seen and liked of the doctor so far, I’m quite sure he would make quite the catch for someone. He seems quite charming.”

Thomas glared. “Charming to the point of sickening sweetness. He’s not to be trusted. With the master dead . . .” He shook his head. “I just don’t believe O’Connor’s motives are entirely honorable toward Miss Jane.”