The Rough Lord Page 3

  Lady Rory ignored her companion’s outraged expression. Darla must have to deal with Lady Rory’s rebellious nature all the time. Looking after such a headstrong young woman must have been a trial.

  “Of course you may use my given name as well.”

  He became aware that instead of wearing a floral scent, like most of the women he knew, she smelled like fresh baked bread. Sweet and delicious. The aroma made his mouth water a little.

  “Are you hiding a loaf of bread in your purse?” Clayton joked quietly as they settled in again.

  Her cheeks bloomed pink and she pulled the small bag closer to herself. “I didn’t know if there would be any place to stop for breakfast,” she whispered, darting a glance at the other two, who were not listening. “Please don’t tell the others about it.”

  Clayton hadn’t expected her to actually be carrying food. “Did you not pack enough for us all?”

  Now her cheeks got a little darker, indicating she had not. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of her sneaking pieces of bread when no one was looking.

  “Don’t worry. There is an inn that we can stop at in a few hours. It serves a good meal.” He leaned in a little closer to speak under his breath. “I won’t give away your secret.” He gave her a wink.

  Across the seat, Darla cleared her throat loudly.

  “Are you feeling unwell, Darling?” Rex asked her smoothly now that the color had returned to his features.

  “My name is Darla.”

  “Of course, Darling.”

  Rex was giving her his most flattering attention, and she acted like he was a pesky insect.

  “Please don’t waste your smiles on me, Mr. Holland.”

  “Rex. I prefer Rex.”

  Darla was still pursing her lips with displeasure, but everyone else in the carriage was smiling.

  “Rory, what takes to you Summerhill?” Clayton asked.

  Rory was an unusual name, but it seemed to fit her. Clayton found it felt right on his tongue.

  “I have a home there, left to me by my late aunt. I’m going up there to start making repairs to it.”

  “I’m a house builder myself. I used to build some of the finest homes in Cape Town.”

  “Used to?”

  He cursed himself for not being more careful with his words. “My family doesn’t approve. That didn’t matter much while I was away, but now that I’ve returned...” He let his words trail off with a shrug.

  “Your family lives in Chatham?”

  “He is the younger brother of—” Rex chose not to finish his sentence when he saw the dark glare Clayton gave him.

  “A very wealthy businessman,” Clayton said quickly. “My family wants me to follow his example, but I want to branch out on my own.”

  “Is being a businessman and a house builder so very different?” Rory asked.

  “I like to get my hands dirty.”

  Her eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment they flickered across where his hands rested on his knees. He couldn’t help but look at his tanned skin and faint scars as well. These were not the hands of a gentleman. Thomas had commented on the roughness of them the first time they had shaken hands after Clayton was found. No doubt his mother would be disappointed by them.

  “You must have been good at it. You dress well for a man in trade,” Darla commented.

  “Clayton is very well-known in that part of the world. His homes are the most renowned and luxurious. People clamor just to get him to draw up designs for them,” Rex answered for him.

  That was a reputation built without the help of a good family name. He’d earned it with his own mind and his bare hands.

  “Why doesn’t your family approve if you have been so successful?” Darla persisted in her suspicious line of questions.

  “They were not impressed with my reputation as it is only in Africa,” Clayton simply said.

  “Will you continue your work in England?”

  “I doubt I would be able to continue if I stayed.”

  Rex gave him a look with one raised eyebrow but did not say anything. For some reason he wasn’t prepared to become Lord Clayton again and wished to remain Mr. Murdoch a bit longer. At least for the duration of their carriage ride. Rex might not understand why Clayton was lying to strangers, but he wouldn’t tell them the truth.

  “Then what will you do?” Rory asked.

  That was the question Clayton had been asking himself the entire trip from Cape Town. His life had changed so drastically when he had left London, but not all of it was bad. It had finally become his. Now he was coming home, but not as the same young man who had left. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  The conversation stopped there, and the four passengers fell into quiet activities.

  Rex fell asleep quickly, his head against the carriage window. Darla produced knitting from the large cloth bag in her possession. Rory appeared content to just watch the passing countryside, and Clayton was content in just watching her. He smiled when he saw the first time she snuck a piece of bread from her purse, barely outside the city. Clayton watched her until he saw both of the other two had nodded off, giving them a small amount of privacy to talk.

  “Did you leave me some?” He leaned in her direction and spoke softly enough not to wake their friends.

  Rory jumped a little in her seat and he could see the crumbs on her dress as they fell to the carriage floor. There was still a piece of crust in her hand, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The bread. I was asking if I could have a piece.”

  She looked down at her purse with a sheepish expression. “I’m afraid this was the last bite.”

  She held up what was left of it in her hand. Without hesitation, Clayton caught her wrist and snapped up the crust she was offering. Rory gasped but didn’t pull away immediately. He released her and she pulled back slowly, watching him with wide hazel eyes framed by darkened lashes.

  “Did I startle you?” Clayton asked.

  “Yes.” At least she was honest.

  “My apologies. I’m afraid my manners have suffered while I was away.”

  Clayton could feel something between them making the air feel thicker. Her eyes grew darker, and his mouth formed a predatory smile. “Perhaps I could spend an extra day in Summerhill and take a look at your house. Give you some sound advice for improvements.”

  At first she nodded slowly, but then she stopped. “No. That would be a very bad idea.” She blinked away the sleepy look in her eyes, then narrowed them at him. “You think I don’t know what you are insinuating? You think because I’m a woman traveling alone, I’m going to be easy prey?”

  “Prey?” Now Clayton was confused.

  “Yes. You are not the first ambitious man to think he can seduce a peer to gain status.” Rory pressed back against the seat to put some distance between them. “You can’t buy a title, so you do the next best thing. I have met many men like you in London and escaped them all.”

  “Escaped?” The conversation had taken such an unexpected turn that Clayton wasn’t sure what to say. “You think I have some kind of designs on you?”

  “Of course. A man like you always does.”

  “What kind of man am I?”

  “A social climber.”

  “Really?” Clayton was stunned. That was the last thing he ever thought he would be accused of.

  “You are a man who has clearly come from a respectable but peerless family, and you have returned to prove yourself to them. They might not approve of your work, so perhaps they would respect your marriage. Middle-class men always want to marry upward.”

  The shock was wearing off and Clayton was growing angry. “What gave you such a negative opinion of me?”

  “It’s not negative, it’s realistic. You are a working man, so you don’t have many opportunities for respectability.”

  “You believe all middle or working-class men are schemers?”

  “No, but mo
st of them are.”

  “The peerage isn’t?”

  She let out a sigh. “They are, but they wouldn’t need to bother with me. I have very little to offer or I would have been married already.”

  “So you think I’m an opportunist with low standards?”

  Rory gave a hard shove against his chest. It was enough to rattle the carriage. The two that had been sleeping were surprised at the hostility they woke up to. Luckily, they reached the inn halfway to Summerhill at that moment.

  The ladies took a table near the large empty fireplace and the men went to the back of the establishment. Clayton threw back a full beer as soon as it was served and asked for another. Rex watched him with wide eyes and tight lips until the second was served.

  “Did something happen while I slept?” Rex asked, letting his gaze slide to where their companions were eating.

  “We had a disagreement.”

  Clayton sipped his second drink while he watched her from across the room. She was still flushed from their argument and talking quickly, with animated movement. He knew he must be the topic when Darla turned to shoot daggers in his direction. Let them discuss his bad behavior all they wanted. He had learned a long time ago not to be bothered by opinions.

  “It looked more like a battle,” said Rex, pretending not to notice the exchange.

  “Perhaps a small skirmish.”

  “She looks like a formidable foe.”

  “More than you know.”

  Rex laughed. “I thought her friend was going to be the sour one.”

  Sour is not the word Clayton would use to describe Rory, but she certainly wasn’t sweet either.

  “She detests and distrusts anyone not in the peerage. She assumed I was going to take advantage of her because of my lack of rank.”

  “So, you are continuing the charade as Mr. Murdoch?”

  “Yes. The last thing I want is for her to find out about my brother and change her opinion of me.”

  “You would rather continue the day riding in a small space with someone who detests you instead?” “

  “Yes.”

  Rex laughed again. “You are a strange fellow, but amusing.”

  Chapter 4

  THE FINAL HOURS OF their ride were silent and tense. Rory had taken the front-facing seat next to Rex, leaving Darla to sit beside Clayton. Rory was still chastising herself for her earlier behavior. She shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable with a stranger, especially one that worked for a living. She could still feel the butterflies he had provoked and it was unsettling.

  Right now, Clayton hardly looked like a threat. His long legs stretched out in front of him, and his head was tilted back to rest against the carriage wall, his eyes closed. She might have believed he was asleep, but his breathing was too rapid. He was pretending to doze to avoid her. She was grateful for it.

  As they came up to the house, Rory was surprised to find it matched her memory so closely. She had been very young when she had come here before, so she thought she might have gotten more details wrong. Yet as it rose up in front of them through the carriage window, it was just as she had imagined.

  It was a quaint two-story brick house with a tiny spire at the center where the attic was. The front door was made of a dark wood, and there were roses planted all the way around the sides. As they pulled up the front drive, she saw the trees had grown tall enough to cast dark shadows over the full length of it. From the outside, it looked lovely.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.” Clayton looked at her with his eyebrows drawn together as the ladies got out of the carriage.

  “I’m not alone. I have the servants inside as well as Miss Capshaw.”

  “Miss Capshaw can hardly provide enough defense.”

  “Defense against what? I don’t see anything potentially dangerous here but you.”

  His nostrils flared and she knew she had struck his ego again. “Good day to you both.”

  The men got back into the carriage and it rolled away, leaving her and Darla behind them.

  Rory looked up at the new residence she would be living in. “Home sweet home.”

  “I’m not sure if I am relieved they are gone or anxious that we are alone now,” said Darla. “I feel he was right when he showed concern about it.”

  Inside, they could see where the maids had already cleaned the floors and the furniture, but they couldn’t restore the damage from years of neglect. The rugs were all worn and the wallpaper peeled in places. Even the main staircase couldn’t be brought back to a luster from cleaning alone.

  “This is quaint.”

  Darla’s words were gentle, but her tone was disdainful. Her gaze moved slowly around the foyer, her frown deepening with every inch. Any further and it would dip below her chin.

  “I think it holds a lot of potential.” Rory was trying to convince herself as much as Darla.

  Walking through the hallways, Rory moved among the pieces of furniture, looking to see if they were of high value. They might have been worth a lot once upon a time, but none of them would fetch much if they were sold now. She sighed.

  “Let’s get settled into our rooms,” Darla suggested, looking as disappointed as Rory felt.

  Upstairs there were three large bedrooms to choose from. Rory allowed herself to taker the master bedroom, which had a large wardrobe and a changing room attached to it. Once again, it held items that were in disrepair and too old to be worth much. It was comfortable, though, and the large window had a window seat built into it. As she leaned in to look out the glass, Rory saw that the house extended into the back of the property much farther than she had originally thought. Curious, she collected Darla to go exploring.

  “Is this a ballroom?” Darla asked, her mouth falling as they moved the heavy oak doors that led into the elaborate room.

  “It must be, but it seems so out of place here.”

  This was a small country house, yet they were standing in a ballroom. It had been added on after the house was built, and it didn’t match the design found in the rest of it. The spacious room had white marble columns and a dark wood floor. She could see a stage had been built to hold an orchestra at one end, and there were a row of French doors to one side leading to a little garden. Rory was curious about that as well, but she wanted to take it in piece by piece.

  “It looks like it hasn’t hosted a ball in a long time.” Darla pointed up to where holes appeared in the mural painted across the ceiling.

  “That is going to be too high for the maids to reach.” Rory sighed.

  In the garden, the plants and flowers had gone wild. The pathways were almost covered completely, and the fountain in the center had begun to crumble. Yet something about the space made Rory smile. It felt like a secret garden to her, a place where her aunt might have gone on her own to daydream. Her aunt had never married, so perhaps dreams were all she had.

  “This must have been beautiful once.” Rory reached out to touch one of the roses blooming along the vines that crawled across all the stone benches. “What do you think she had this built for? My aunt was hardly a social success.”

  “How well did you know her?” Darla asked.

  “Not very. My parents seldom talked about her, and she never visited that I can recall.”

  “Why did she purchase her own house?”

  “My mother said it was because she wanted to avoid being a burden to the family. My father said it was just to be difficult.”

  “Perhaps it was both.”

  Rory tried to remember more about her aunt but nothing was coming to mind. Perhaps this would give her a chance to get to know her deceased relative a bit more.

  “How did she come to own it?” Darla asked, taking a seat on the edge of a pond.

  “That I don’t have any idea about. Neither of my parents ever mentioned it.”

  Another mystery waiting to be discovered.

  “I think we should get settled in and start sorting through the house tomorrow.” Ror
y was beginning to feel the soreness from the long carriage ride.

  Upstairs, Rory lay in the canopy bed in her room and stared at the window. She was too tired to think of much, but her mind wandered to the man from the carriage. Those navy blue eyes had twinkled at her with such humor. She thought of the heat she had felt between them and the way his soft lips looked, peeking out of his blond beard. She had felt the urge to taste those lips and it shocked her. That was the only excuse for why she had behaved with such bad manners. She still wondered what it would have been like if she had allowed him to kiss her and that was her last thought as she fell asleep.

  A loud knock at the door woke her up. It was a pounding that sounded like it was never going to stop. Finally, Rory sat up and shouted to the person on the other side.

  “Miss Capshaw says I’m not to return to the dining room without you,” said one of the housemaids, sounding firm in her mission.

  There was no more daylight coming from the window, and Rory realized she had slept past the start of dinner. She was keeping her companion from her meal.

  Quickly, she lit a candle and got changed out of her traveling clothes. She gave her face and neck a brisk wash with cold water and didn’t bother to pin up her hair. She noticed that the oil lamps were lit as she hurried down to the dining room.

  “I was beginning to think I would have to eat alone,” said Darla, a bowl of soup in front of her.

  “You would be more than welcome to.” Rory slipped into the seat across from her. “There is no one here to think poorly of you.”

  “It would be inappropriate for me to eat without you. Your brother pays me to keep you company.”

  Rory often forgot that Darla was an employee and not just a friend. It made her bristle when she was reminded of it.

  “Sorry. I must have been more tired from the trip than I thought.”

  “Perhaps it the battle you had going with Mr. Murdoch.”

  Apparently Darla was in a chastising mood tonight.

  “I wasn’t arguing with him.”

  “Not out loud, but there was plenty of tension between the two of you. Something important must have happened while I was sleeping.” Darla paused. “Do you want to tell me about it?”