Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (7 page)

In the vestibule she found herself face to face with Hollins Carpenter and grew annoyed to find him still in residence, however, she knew why he stayed on. No doubt he’d remain there until she signed her fortune away. “Have you seen my husband this morning?” she inquired.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Where is he?”

“He—uh—he had business to attend to.” Hollins blinked steadily behind his spectacles, but Marlee guessed he was hedging, not willing to tell her where her husband had gone. The rogue had probably ridden into the village to take up his dubious ways again. Anger suffused her face to think he was still up to his old tricks, but Hollins hurriedly put her worry to rest when he said, “Mr. Oliver is with him, my lady.” This was Carpenter’s way of saying that Simon was a steadying influence upon Arden.

Marlee breathed a relieved sigh. “Then he is in good hands, as his home shall soon be. I shall conduct interviews this afternoon to find adequate help. Mrs. Mort’s family members might be interested in working here.”

For a second, Marlee thought Hollins’s face was about to explode. His cheeks puffed out and turned from their usually pale color to apple red. “Oh, Lady Arden, I can arrange for help. Don’t trouble yourself,” he hastily declared.

“For heaven’s sakes, Mr. Carpenter, you look ready to die of apoplexy. I’m capable of hiring a competent staff. Mrs. Mort has agreed to help me.”

“I’m certain you are quite capable, but shouldn’t you wait and consult Lord Arden?”

“I see no need to trouble him with such mundane matters. I am mistress here now and Lady Arden, as you have reminded me a number of times. I’m certain I can engage a staff of able and capable workers.”

“But there will be strangers here, my lady.” Carpenter’s countenance suddenly paled. Marlee thought he looked positively frightened at the thought.

“They won’t be strangers for long,” she assured him, totally baffled by the man’s uneasiness. “Have I your help if I need it?”

Carpenter swallowed hard and inclined his head in what Marlee took to be a nod. “Strange man,” she mumbled under her breath as Carpenter excused himself and headed for the library. Going into the drawing room, she found Barbara sitting on the divan and sipping tea from a dainty damask tea cup.

“Mrs. Mort makes the most delicious tea,” Barbara uttered after bidding Marlee a good morning. “This is my third cup. And her cinnamon muffins melt in the mouth. She is so efficient, considering she has no help.”

“I’m going to interview people today for positions here, but when I told Mr. Carpenter about what I plan to do, he looked ready to have a fit,” Marlee confessed worriedly to Barbara. “He thought I should consult Lord Arden first, and now, I wonder if I should. After all, Carpenter knows Richard and his tastes. I don’t want to offend Richard, but I must assert myself and take

over the household matters.”

“Hmmm, I’m not certain why hiring a staff would bother Lord Arden. I tend to think that Mr. Carpenter sometimes anticipates problems where none exist.”

“I understand that Simon is gone off somewhere with Lord Arden.” Marlee glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window, not expecting to see Arden on the grounds but her heart beat hard as if she did, or would have liked to see him. “Do you know where they went?”

“No,” Barbara admitted glumly. “I had hoped Simon would take me for a carriage ride this afternoon since the rain has stopped. There’s precious little to do here for amusement.”

That was true, but Marlee didn’t mind. Somehow the quiet and serenity of the house had seeped into her soul. More than anything she wanted to remain as mistress of the estate and somehow find a place for herself in Arden’s affections.

~ ~ ~

“I’ve cooked and cleaned for all me fifty years, my lady, and if I do say so meself, I’m a fine one with a rag and a broom. You’d not see a speck of dust if you hire me on.” The pleasant-faced woman who sat stiff-backed in the large chair before Marlee shifted uncomfortably but continued in an earnest voice, “Me sister Rose Mort can swear on the good book about me housekeepin’. And me son would make a fine stable lad for you.” Her tone became low and almost imploring. “Life has been hard since me husband passed on last year. The farming t’ain’t been good with just me and Denney to do the plowing. Me husband was a strong fellow until he got sick.”

Marlee appraised Mary Carter, finding her to be a candid woman. Her hair had once been brown but was now streaked with silver. Her large green eyes, so much like Mrs. Mort’s, clouded with tears but there was something strong and vital about the woman, an honesty about her which appealed to Marlee.

Marlee had no doubt that Mary would be a fine addition, as would Denney, her fourteen-year-old son, whom Marlee had already interviewed and who now sat near the library window with his cap clutched in his grimy hand. Marlee could tell the mother and son were in need of jobs by the shabby clothes they wore and a good meal by the thin look of them—and she intended to remedy their unfortunate situation very soon.

Already that afternoon she’d interviewed and hired a gardener, a woman to help in the kitchen, and an upstairs maid—all relatives of Mrs. Mort. When Mrs. Mort had told Marlee that she had family eager to work at Arden Manor, the woman hadn’t lied.

“I believe both of you shall do very nicely. I’ll have Mrs. Mort show you to your quarters and ready a warm plate of stew for you. It’s nearly supper time.” Marlee felt her insides light up at Mary’s reaction.

“Oh, thank you, my lady! You’re so good and kind. Me Denney thinks so, too, don’t you, lad?” Mary rose from her chair and clapped her hands in delight as she cast a beaming smile in her son’s direction. The boy bobbed his head eagerly.

“I’ll work hard for you, my lady, I swear I will,” Denney assured Marlee.

“I’m certain that with your help, all shall be efficiently run.” Marlee rose from her chair and called to Mrs. Mort who waited outside the library door and told her to take Mary and Denney to the servants’ wing.

For some reason Marlee noted that Mrs. Mort cast sidelong glances at the door. “Is something wrong?” Marlee queried.

“It’s Mr. Carpenter, my lady,” she admitted with a sniff of disdain. “He’s pacing the halls, not too thrilled about your hiring a staff, I think.”

“Why ever should that bother him?”

“You’d best ask him, my lady. Or your husband,” Mrs. Mort whispered so low under her breath that Marlee scarcely heard her.

Her husband. Marlee’s heart jolted at the thought of him. She hadn’t seen him all day. Where was Arden? Was he in the village, carousing with tavern wenches? She didn’t want to think about such a thing, in fact she didn’t have time to dwell upon Arden’s vices when she heard Carpenter’s voice in the hallway. “My lord, please don’t go into the library now…”

“Why ever not?” came Arden’s crisp retort and Marlee heard the impatient clicking of his boot heels on the marbled floor as he headed in her direction.

“Because Lady Arden—is hiring a staff.” But Carpenter’s response came too late. Already Arden waited in the doorway when Marlee turned from the others to gaze upon him.

Her heart fluttered like a dowager’s fan to see him again. The corners of her mouth started to turn into a pleased smile but the welcome faded from her eyes at his appearance. Standing there with a riding crop in hand, his dark hair windblown and ruffled, Arden looked like the devil himself. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was dressed entirely in black or that his usually shiny boots were now caked with wet sand that caused her uneasiness. In a corner of her mind, Marlee thought the clothes suited him more than the properly attired aristocrat she’d come to expect. There was something else, something more disturbing.

It was his eyes.

They glowed hot, almost like black pearls drenched in blazing sunlight. Her pulses beat hard as his sweltering gaze settled upon her. “What is going on here?” he asked in a silky controlled tone of voice, but Marlee noticed the displeasure concealed beneath the polished facade.

She curtsied as she’d been trained to do by Clementina, not out of a sense of deference but because she was so nervous at taking the household duties into her own hands she didn’t know how else to react. After all, this was his home, not hers. Not really. Not yet.

“I’ve hired a staff, my lord.” And that was the simple truth of the matter. If he didn’t like it, she couldn’t help his feelings, but she wouldn’t apologize—not in front of the help.

He looked about to explode, and she braced herself for an outburst. Instead, his demeanor and stance relaxed. He nodded in what she perceived was a dismissal. “I’d appreciate some privacy. I have things to discuss with Carpenter.”

“Yes, my lord.” Marlee hurried her charges out of the room, conscious of his onyx gaze upon her back. When she’d closed the door behind Arden and Carpenter, she spotted Simon and Barbara at the far end of the hallway. She’d have fled in their direction, but Mary Carter’s voice rooted her to the spot as the woman and her son followed after Mrs. Mort to the kitchen.

“Rose, that didn’t look like Lord Arden. Tis been some time since I last saw him, but he looks different somehow, I can’t explain it but—”

“Hush, Mary!” Mrs. Mort demanded and Marlee saw her take her sister roughly by the arm, pulling her along beside her.

“Me mum’s right, Aunt Rose,” Denney insisted. “That man t’ain’t Lord Arden, not Lord Richard. I know —I saw his lordship just a few weeks back when I visited and—”

“Quiet the both of you! Now keep your silly ramblings to yourselves and come fill your bellies and mouths with me stew.” Mrs. Mort’s voice became low then drifted away to nothing.

A draft suddenly rushed through the hallway and Marlee’s skin chilled at what she’d heard, or rather what she’d seen. It wasn’t what Mary and Denney said about Arden that bothered her, it was the way Mrs. Mort reacted. The housekeeper had practically used force on the both of them as she whisked them off to the kitchen. Why had she done that? Was it to silence them, to keep her from overhearing. But why?

The man in the library with Hollins Carpenter was Richard Arden, Baron of Arden Manor, her husband. There was no good reason for servants’ silly prattle to unnerve her. It was only when Barbara and Simon called to her to join them for tea in the parlor did she forget what she’d overheard. Yet for the rest of the afternoon, a vague uneasiness settled upon her.

~ ~ ~

“I’ve found the perfect ship, Carpenter. She’s strong of timber and sleek of hull. With the proper rigging and crew, I shall soon be able to sail after Manuel Silva.” Lark finished gazing out of the window and with his arms folded resolutely across his broad chest, he turned to Hollins. “I’ve been interviewing able-bodied crew men from the village.”

“Is that wise, my lord? I mean, suppose someone becomes suspicious—”

“No one knows who I am, Carpenter,” Lark ground out. “The men meet on the beach and know me only as Captain Lark. No one suspects I’m impersonating Richard. And as for your being so concerned about my deception”—Lark impaled the solicitor with a black look—”then explain why Lady Arden was hiring a staff, why strangers were allowed into the house. You know very well we agreed that no one would be admitted while I’m here.”

Sweat popped out upon Carpenter’s forehead. “Er, well, I had no control over the matter, my lord. Her ladyship informed me what she was going to do, and you weren’t here to change her mind. I couldn’t very well forbid her from hiring a staff, that would have seemed odd to her. As it is, Mrs. Mort is more than upset and I fear she may eventually break down and admit the truth to your wife—I mean, Lady Arden. You must understand what a delicate position you’ve placed me in. I hate lying to her.”

Lark hated lying to Marlee, also, but he’d never admit that aloud. He’d chosen the perfect ship and was now hiring on a capable crew. All he needed was the money. And Marlee still hadn’t signed the document. He repressed a sigh to think about his cousin’s widow. Everything would be so damned simple if Marlee had turned out to be an ugly and mean-spirited woman. But she wasn’t.

Marlee was more beautiful than he could have imagined. Even now, he could visualize the way tiny golden sparkles danced within the centers of her sapphire eyes. Worst of all, he could still recall how her lips had tasted when he’d kissed her. They’d been sweet like cinnamon, warm and soft as velvet. He’d wanted to make love to her but had pulled away from her, because he’d considered himself to be an honorable man. He wouldn’t bed her only to attain her purse.

But he wasn’t a man of honor any longer—not now—not when he was deluding her into thinking he was her husband. And Marlee wasn’t virtuous, though she gave the impression that she was an innocent. Any woman as beautiful and wealthy as Marlee shouldn’t have had to marry a man she’d never met. This thought led Lark to attribute his own behavior by giving credence to the story Carpenter had told him about Marlee.

For all her seeming innocence, she wasn’t virtuous. If she had been, Richard wouldn’t have married her in the first place. So, why not woo Marlee into signing the document? Why shouldn’t he bed her and enjoy bedding her to get what he wanted? She’d appeared more than eager for his touch and kiss the night before—a clear indication to Lark that Lady Marlee Arden must be what Richard had thought she was—a wanton.

“Carpenter, inform Mrs. Mort that Lady Arden and I shall dine alone tonight in the dining room,” Lark brusquely ordered and headed for the door. “And make certain we’re not disturbed.”

~ ~ ~

The gown Marlee chose to wear that night was one of her most colorful. Dressed in the cream silk creation, Marlee’s delicate coloring was enhanced by the orange and green embroidery. The vivid colors caused her cheeks to glow, the pale yellow silk tabby petticoat highlighted the matching slippers on her feet. When she glided into the candlelit dining room that night, it seemed to Lark that she was the sun personified.

She stopped short when he came to take her arm. “Am I early, my lord? Barbara and Simon haven’t come down yet.”

“You’re on time, my dear. The others are eating in their rooms tonight. I informed Mrs. Mort that we are to dine alone.”