“Handsome and charming? Good luck.”
“It is too bad you are not titled. But then you’d need wealth as well to afford someone as comely as myself.” She teased him.
“Indeed.”
For a brief moment, she let herself believe she heard more than banter in those words. Not that she’d ever consider mistress as a profession. But if this man were a titled gentleman with wealth, she’d be lying if the idea had no merit.
After Mr. Cade left, she remained in the pavilion drinking in the scent of him until the masculine fragrance subsided. He smelled delicious. Clean as shaving soap and warm as amber musk. She told herself it was only that she’d lived with illness in the house for such a time, but the truth was more than that. Freddie was quite attracted to the man. And who wouldn’t be? Never had she allowed herself to look at another man since marrying Henry. Although they were not a love match, she cared for him and would never have harmed his good name for anything.
But now. In her home was this man who did not look like a solicitor and held himself quite regally, if she must put a word to it, with hair on the roguish side that curled at the ends, and eyes that sliced through her every time he smiled. The Widows’ League had known precisely what kind of distraction she needed. She’d spoken of things so personal with him, and he had teased her out of her embarrassment. For the first time in her life, she wished she were not such a good girl. A widow could take a lover after a year. But it had not been a year, and she was not an experienced widow.
She threw off the thought, waited a little longer, then paraded back to the house, already missing Cade because he’d departed so quickly.
“There you are, my dear fake sister-by-law. Do not get used to it.” Suzanna St. George might have been pretty if her talent for jealousy was not so tried and true. She was older than Freddie, and that alone must have felt like a slap. She’d had few offers according to Henry. But if she would only give a smile a chance, she might fool a gentleman long enough to marry her.
“I do hope you stopped for supper because I planned to take my meals in my rooms.”
“One could hope, what with the way you’ve made a mockery of mourning my dear brother.”
“As have you, sweet sister.” Freddie was too exhausted, too sad, and too scared to care how she sounded.
Suzanna pointed an unladylike finger at her while her whining voice echoed in the family parlor. “I swear to you, as soon as you’re thrown from this house, I shall have those hideous swans you love so much butchered. I’ll grab them by the neck myself and twist them about.”
“If they don’t bite you first.”
The woman’s dark eyes turned to slits, and her lip curled with a snarl.
Freddie heaved out a weary sigh. “Can we put away this loathing for a while? I am truly tired. Stay if you must, but I do believe you were directed to leave.”
“This is my family home. By all rights, I should be living in it.”
“Do so, then. I don’t care. I don’t plan to be here any longer than need be. As soon as the will is finalized and the townhome in London is furnished, you’ll not see me again.”
“I wish you all the luck.”
“Thank you.” She purposely misunderstood.
“And there she is,” Isaac hailed to Freddie, not unkindly. “I had to argue with your steward to put the horses and carriage away because we had no plans to leave. Who is this solicitor who demanded such a thing?”
“You’ve missed him, and I don’t believe it’s any of your concern, but as I just told your sister, you’re welcome to stay.”
“Of course we are. I am the heir, after all.”
“Eventually, I would presume so. But let’s not be hasty.” She couldn’t keep from planting that seed of doubt. If they thought her pregnant, they might be a little kinder. Perhaps.
Five
Cade did stay the night at Hamlin Estate. He slept in his bed with the cherubs mocking him from the far corners. In the morning, over breakfast, watching the sunrise, he studied the will of Henry St. George. All very straightforward except for one thing, Lady Danderly was to stay in the house for exactly one year in the case of an heir. And if not, she could retire to the city town house, gifted to her by Henry, along with a small fortune. It was certainly enough for a single widow to live comfortably for the rest of her life.
That should have made him happy because he was beginning to feel responsible for her debacle. Not for the cause, but responsible for his misrepresentation as a solicitor. The books were not difficult, but finding proof of the real culprits would take more detective work than he’d ever considered. He needed a barrister. Before returning to Lady Danderly’s home, he had his own secretary pen a note to his legal man.
He rode straight to Tradewind Manor, his saddlebags filled with personal things, namely a decent razor, changes of clothes, a comfortable banyan, and his sketchpad. He halted in the drive, handed off his horse to a groom, and headed for the open door where Mr. Newhouse waved him in.
“Is that the post?” Cade asked.
Newhouse nodded, sliding one note over the other like he was selecting which ones to show his employer first.
“May I?”
“Gladly. I never know what to do with these things. Invitations, correspondence. Perhaps you can convince her to hire a real butler.” Newhouse gave a ghost of a smile. His job of running the estate had undoubtedly been compromised with the extended task.
What Cade really needed was a look at the post. Sure enough, a letter from the Widows’ League had come. When Newhouse turned his back, Cade stuck it discreetly in his pocket, quickly shuffling through the rest. He walked past the study, saw Freddie’s shiny blonde head bowed over the desk, and forwent his rooms.
“Mr. Cade. You’re back,” she said, looking up.
He waved the correspondence above his head. “And bearing gifts.”
She blew out a sigh. “I’m not cut out to be a baroness.”
“You’ve more pluck than you give yourself credit. I can take care of the post if you’d like.”
“Thank you. I will truly be at a loss when you leave.”
He noticed her hands slide over an open ledger. “I thought we agreed I would take care of the books too. You should do something entertaining like visiting friends. You needn’t be available while I work through pages of dull accounts.”
“Now, if one just knew where to find friends.”
That statement did not sound like self-deprecating banter. It sounded true. And he found it disheartening. He laid the post down on a side table and took his usual seat before the desk.
“They didn’t leave,” she said with irritated force.
He straightened. “Who?”
“Henry’s family.” She braced her elbows against the desk, wearily resting her chin on her clasped hands.
Well, dammit. Now he felt trapped. He looked at the open door.
“Oh, they’re gone now, but they stayed last night to torment me. I knew they wouldn’t heed the request.”
Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Certain proof that they’re scared. Let them squirm. Did you tell them anything?”
“Heavens no.” She sat back, her hair unbound and pulled to the side. A goddess dressed in cream muslin with a cheery peach overlay embroidered with tiny flowers that belied the fire he saw beneath. She was as candid as the dress was innocent and refreshing for all that.