To Protect and to Cherish (4 page)

He found himself with no answers to these questions as he rode toward the Trent estate.

The butler did not seem surprised to see him, but Slade was almost certain the butler had no human emotion, “This way, if you please, your grace.”

Slade was announced and found the master of the house rising upon his entrance.

“Where is your niece?” he barked at the startled man.

“I believe she is resting in her room,” Trent supplied with a slight wince.

“Why did she tell me she had no family?”

Trent scowled, “She has been, at times, willful, your grace. I imagine it was a flight of fancy for her. She has decided to come home now, however. I can be grateful for that.”

“I wish to see her.”

“Sir,” Horace stood up straight, but still was dwarfed by the younger man, “I must tell you she is exhausted from her trip. She hardly stopped on the way down. Once she arrived, she fell asleep and has been in her room since.”

Slade paused a moment in his irritation to feel a bit of concern, “Does something ail her? Perhaps you should send for the doctor?”

Horace smiled a little, “I believe my housekeeper has told her the doctor will be called
tomorrow if she is not better. As I said, it is likely due to fatigue.”

Slade had no option but to leave and plan to return another day. He stomped off the porch and was about to climb upon his horse when a slight figure in the garden caught his eye.

Nobody had hair that black. He had only seen that shade on one other person.

Unlike the last time he saw her,
though, her hair was loose, flowing down her back in gentle waves.

He turned on his heel
and strode toward her.

She saw him coming and looked for a place to hide. Seeing none, she looked to the ground, allowing her hair to drop over her face.

“You told me you had no family,” he began with an accusation.

“Mr. Ashley,” she turned slightly away from him, “what brings you
to this part of the country?”

“I live here,” he seethed, “do you pretend to not know this?”

She glanced up at him, “I beg your pardon, sir. I was not aware . . .”

“You are going to claim you have never heard of
Blackbourne? It is the largest estate in the area.”

“
Blackbourne?’ she looked up at him, eyes wide, “are you of that family?”

Slade had more to say, but the words caught in his throat at seeing her face.

She began to turn away, but he swung around to better see her, “What happened to your eye?”

She glanced up at the house, “I fell.”

He pursued her, “Do you fall often?”

She looked down at the ground.

“Miss Trent,” he spoke more harshly than he intended, touching a finger to her chin to tilt her face upward.

Her lips pulled into a tight line at the act of familiarity.

“Some of these bruises are several days old,” he knew she could not miss his implication.

“I did not tell you when I had my accident,” she pulled away from him.

“So what else happened?” he dropped his voice. “You have recent injuries as well.”

“It is not proper for you to speak of such things to me, Mr. Ashley,
” she looked back up at him, a frown of concentration wrinkling her brow, “or should I address you otherwise?”

It was his turn to frown.

“Have you an elder brother, sir?”

Now he knew what she was saying, “No.”

She dipped a curtsey, “I beg your pardon, your grace.”

He found himself irritated with the formality
, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

She opened her mouth to speak
, but a maid came running from the house.

“Miss,” the young woman looked frantic.

Miss Trent spun and, without so much as a farewell, hurried toward the anxious redhead.

Slade determined to remain until the truth was known. He took a seat by a nearby tree.

The ladies voices carried to him.

“The master is looking for you, Miss.”

“Has he said why? Has he been drinking?”

“Nay, he has not been drinking, but he is quite angry.”

Slade believed his thoughts to be confirmed at that statement. His blood began to boil that the man would strike a woman.

“I’m afraid for you, Miss,” the maid continued. “He said he isn’t going to wait much longer for you to cooperate.”

“I know,” Miss Trent’s voice sounded as though she spoke through tears. “He told me it would be worse if I continued to fight him about it.”

“He’ll kill you, Miss,” the maid was now crying.

“But I cannot willingly go to. . .” her voice caught, “I cannot subject myself to that, Erin. I would be wrong.”

“You must leave,” Erin urged.

Slade’s hands balled into fists. He could now see the picture clearly.

“Where would I go? Have you another
brother who could take me in? My uncle will find me wherever I go.”

Slade’s heart dropped to his knees. He had done this. It was due to his casual remark
the previous week that Miss Trent was now suffering this abuse. It seemed she would shortly be forced to suffer more.

He stood up and approached the women – not caring they would realize he was eavesdropping.

“A word, Miss Trent.”

Erin looked up in surprise before dropping to a deep curtsey.

“You may go, Erin,” Jillian assured her, “but do not go back to the house just yet.”

The duke was glaring at her, but she did not look away.

“I did this to you.”

She was confused. Of what was he speaking?

“As surely as if I had laid my hands on you, I am to blame for the pain you have suffered.”

Jillian shook her head, realizing now what he was talking about, “There is nobody to blame but the one who took the action, sir.”

“You are too gracious,” he was still scowling.

She lowered her chin, “I am afraid I must leave you. My uncle wishes to see me.”

He reached out a hand and grasped her arm, “So he can do what with you?”

Jillian gasped, partly in pain because of the fingers digging into her bruise, and partly because of his words.

“I did not realize you were in danger, or I never would have mentioned your name.”

“I understand that, sir.”

“Miss Trent, you must allow me to help you.”

“The best thing now is to allow me to go. Waiting will only make it worse.”

He looked like he was about to argue further, but a voice from the house caused both of them to turn.

“Jillian!” her uncle was well and truly angry now, “Do not think you can hide out here.”

Jillian found herself being pushed behind the large man.

“Trent,” Slade
barked as the older man came into view, “what is the purpose of making such a scene? Have you no sense of pride or decorum?”

Jillian would have been amused at her uncle’s face were it not for the seriousness of the situation.

“You grace,” he stammered, “I did not realize you were still here.”

Jillian stepped out from behind the duke, “What is it you need, Uncle Horace?”

The presence of the other man did not prevent her uncle from glaring at her.

Lord Ashley turned to her, lips pressed together, “Trent, your niece has just consented to be my wife.”

Jillian’s eyes widened as she stared up at the man. He took her arm as he spoke.

“Ah,” Horace didn’t seem to know what to think.

“I will go to town for a special license.”

“A special license?”
Horace managed to get the words past his lips.

“Yes. We will be married
within two weeks.”

Jillian found her voice “Your grace, I think this is all a bit hasty.”

He smiled down at her, but she could see it was forced, “My dear Miss Trent, ‘he who hesitates is lost.’ There is no telling what may happen if we wait for the traditional time.”

Jillian felt her face burn with shame. She knew exactly of what he spoke. It was mortifying that he should have heard the conversation between Erin and herself.

“You may go to your room to rest,” Horace spoke. “Lord Ashley and I will discuss arrangements.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the duke shook his head.

She stepped back and saw a movement behind her. Erin was standing in the garden, mouth open – a look of shock on her face.

Jillian remembered her uncle’s threat and knew what her response must be.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke loudly, “but I must speak with Lord Ashley before I go.”

Her uncle’s lip curled, but she would not back down. She must have her say, knowing full well her uncle would be punishing her later for the end of this engagement.

“Very well,” he turned and went into the house. “I will await you in the study, your grace.”

“You
cannot be thinking of. . .” Lord Ashley began, but she interrupted.

Sir,” she crossed the path to Erin, “this is my lady’s maid and friend, Erin.”

He had probably never been introduced to a servant before. He looked uncertain how to proceed, but she did not await his action.

“Erin, would you be
so kind as to lay out my grey lawn? I think I will be changing gowns.”

Erin curtseyed and left obediently.

“I am grateful for your attempts to help me, sir, but I am afraid marriage is out of the question.”

“You will awake further wrath if you do not.”

“From you?” she goaded him.

He was offended, “Certainly not.”

She drew a breath to tell him the truth, “Mister – Lord Ashley, my uncle has promised to treat Erin and her family with great cruelty should I ever leave him.”

“He is clearly not displeased with the idea of you marrying me.”

“I would sooner risk his displeasure over the broken engagement than risk the safety of my friends. They have shown me great kindness. I cannot repay them by abandoning them.”

“How many are there?”

“Erin works as my maid, but Bridget and Fiona work in the kitchen.”

“You will need a lady’s maid when you come to live with me. It will be part of the marriage contract.”

She looked up at him. He was taking his responsibility too far, “I must say again, sir. You are not to blame.”

“I am certain my cook can always use good help.”

“Sir,” she spoke louder to better gain his attention.

He did not allow the interruption,
“How did the family end up so far south?”

“Mrs.
O’toole is not Irish. Mr. O’toole met her while working for a carrier. Sir, I cannot ask this of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” he reminded her. “Will the family be safe if the girls are living under my roof?”

She sighed, “They are my uncle’s tenants, but he rarely interacts with his tenants.”

He frowned, “Why?”

She huffed a little, “It is irrelevant, sir. I cannot marry you.”

He clasped his hands behind his back a
nd rocked on his heels, “Why? Are you promised to another?”

“No,” she could not believe she was having this conversation with a man she barely knew.

“Have you been. . .compromised?”

She flushed in anger, “That is a terrible thing to ask, sir.”

He remained calm, “And yet you did not answer.”

Jillian felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she would not give him the satisfaction of looking away, “No. My uncle has not behaved in that manner to me.”

“Not yet,” he reminded her.

She looked down now lest the duke should see the fear that always hid beneath the surface.

“If I were to go in and tell your uncle we are not to wed after all, he would certainly take you immediately.”

She shuddered at his bluntness.

The man stepped a fraction closer, “Do you fear me?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, “Certainly not.”

He thought she looked surprised at the question, “Why not? You hardly know me. Perhaps I am a brute.”

She allowed a soft laugh of disbelief to pass her lips, “Had you wanted to mistreat me, sir, a deserted stretch of land would have been a more likely place to do so than here in my uncle’s house.”

He was glad for that, at least.

She stepped back, “Go in, then, and begin marriage contract proceedings. You will find him unreasonable for he intends to gain financially from you. You will then have a way out. It has not been announced
, so nobody would ever know.”

The duke pondered this for a moment.