A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) (5 page)

“How was Sarah Kerr?” Mrs. Harris did not wait for an answer but continued to query her daughter. “You did stop by to see her, did you not?”

Clare did not answer, only stared while Rosalind worked on the clasps of her outer garment, not making much progress.

“Are you ill, dear?” Her mother frowned and tilted her head. “You do not seem as if you are feeling the thing.”

“Cook, will you have tea sent into the parlor?” Rosalind removed Clare’s scarlet cloak and handed it to one of the kitchen maids. “Come, Clare. Let us go inside and sit, shall we?”

Clare smiled and she went along calmly. Rosalind led her to the sofa, thinking all along her sister may need to recline if her condition did not improve.

“Clare. Clare?” Rosalind had never seen her sister behave in such an odd manner. “What is it, my dear? Has something happened while you were out?”

As Harry, one of their servants, had accompanied Rosalind, Gordon had gone with Clare, as an escort and to supply the main transport of the many bundles of food they had planned to give out that day. Surely the manservant would have watched out for and protected her if needed.

“Where was Gordon?”

“What? Who?”

“Gordon. Was he with you? He didn’t leave you, did he?”

“Gordon? No, he was there.”

“Then what happened?”

“Happened?” Clare’s eyes widened and her expression became somewhat unfocused and dreamlike. “Oh, Ros,
he
had this
horrible
accident and was tossed into the snow. The poor man is
hurt
but I think
he
is wonderful.”

Tossed in the snow? To whom had Clare referred? Surely not Gordon. The sisters were acquainted with the very same people and as far as Rosalind knew, her sister had no such tender feelings for any of their neighbors.

“Of course
you
have not met him yet.” Clare sighed. One of those off-into-the-distance affairs she had displayed since her return. “I daresay, you cannot have, for he has only arrived yesterday, you understand?”

“He’s a stranger?” Her sister’s words could not have alarmed Rosalind more. She had met a stranger and he was not in any way an appropriate person for either of them to share an acquaintance. He was a rudesby and a ruffian.

“I find him all that is agreeable,” was all Clare said and slid quietly into a calm state smelling completely of April and May.

Then the import of her sister’s words hit Rosalind. Clare was referring to
him
; the very same man Rosalind had run into, literally. Him—
that horrid, rude man
.

Chapter Five

Y
ou’ll not make it there first!” Freddie gave Drew a good-natured push to give the impression he wished to impede the lad’s progress down the corridor to the library.

Drew, being smaller, quicker, and much younger made a mad dash ahead of Freddie, easily entering the room first with great, loud bursts of laughter from both of them. They stood by the blazing hearth warming themselves after the hours spent that morning outdoors.

It took some moments before Freddie noticed Trevor sitting quietly off to the side in a chair. A knitted shawl draped over his shirt-clad shoulders as if he were an aged man. His eyes were open wide and he had the oddest expression. Not one of pain or shock at the sudden loss of privacy by a boisterous duo.

“Trevor, you all right?” While Freddie felt relief at seeing his friend sitting upright, he also experienced some trepidation with his response. “Trevor?”

“Freddie . . .” He blinked, facing his friend. “When did you arrive?”

Drew snickered and elbowed Freddie who answered, “Only just.”

Trevor mumbled something.

“What’s that you say, there?” Freddie took a step toward him as if being physically closer might make it easier to understand him.

“Brown hair. She has the most beautiful brown hair,” Trevor repeated. “And her eyes . . .” Then all he could manage was a sigh.

“I fink Mr. Trevor might be talkin’ ’bout a girl,” Drew whispered to Freddie. “Maybe Miss ’arris.”

“I’m afraid of that, too.” He turned Drew away from Trevor and toward the door. “Why don’t you see if you can give your mother a hand with our refreshment, make sure it’s hot, now.”

“Right enough, sir.” Drew headed off to the kitchen without hesitation.

“And maybe a poultice for Trev,” he yelled after the boy. Turning back to Trevor, Freddie made his way in that direction and muttered, “I think he must be delirious.”

“Fred, you’re here.” Trevor woke from his trance as if he’d just noticed his friend. “Did you see her?”

“Uh . . . the lady with the brown hair? Would that be Miss Harris?” Freddie settled in a chair near Trevor. How could he feel so drawn to a lady who repulsed Freddie so?

“Mrs. Morley brought in this
angel
wrapped in a plain brown cape and made proper introductions. ‘Miss Harris, this is Mr. Trevor. He came ta us last night feeling mighty poor. Is there summin’ you can do for him?’ And then she looked at me with those
eyes
.” Trevor glanced up at Freddie. “Those beautiful
eyes,
Fred.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure they were quite lovely.” Freddie would not disagree with his friend’s assessment, only when Miss Harris turned her gaze in his direction it was with contempt. No doubt that one man’s beauty was another man’s virago.

“I wanted her to know
ma
-name,
ma
-true name, and proceeded to correct Mrs. Morley, ‘I am Trevor Rutherford, ma’am.’ I could not manage to get to
ma
-feet to properly make her acquaintance as I would have liked. ‘Pray remain seated, sir,’ Miss Harris said, and motioned for me to stay with her delicately gloved hand and she came to
ma
-side.” Trevor seemed to melt at the very recollection. “She told me, ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am sure, but you must remain still. I have heard you are not well and they have asked me to have a look at you to offer
ma-
opinion. Do you have any objection, sir?’”

Freddie thought Mr. Hamilton, the local animal healer, was to come, not a beauty who would mesmerize and bewitch Trevor.

“She was absolutely delightful.” Trevor’s strange delivery and vacant gaze was most alarming. “Miss Harris, that is.”

Miss Harris? Delightful
was not the word Freddie would use in describing the wandering woman. Clearly she had just come from visiting Penshaw Manor when Freddie had met up with her. Under different circumstances he might have thought her amiable enough when he first set eyes on her, but after their exchange this morning in the far orchard, it was his opinion that neither one had cared for the other.

“I wanted to impress her and put up a brave front, you understand?” Trevor need not have sought out Freddie’s approval. “Don’t want to appear weak in her eyes, but I can tell you it was dashed-difficult. I tried to explain that I had been in a carriage accident yesterday and although I did not seem to have broken any bones, I . . . Well, I wasn’t exactly certain how I had injured
ma-
self. She asked if she could examine me.” Trevor’s eyes slid shut. “Oh, her touch, her touch . . .”

Freddie was not certain he wanted to hear any further details.

“She was so very gentle. She tried not to cause me any further pain and her fingers were feather light but she managed to find exactly
ma
-problem.”

Freddie kept silent, waiting to hear the results of said examination.

“She speculates I have injured the muscles in
ma
-ribcage.” He ran his hand along his side with some dismay. “And here I sit in my shirtsleeves. It would not surprise me if I’ve given her a terrible disgust of me.”

Trevor was smitten with Miss Harris. How could he find her so agreeable when Freddie thought . . . all he could do was shake his head.

Mrs. Morley entered with the refreshment tray that Freddie had highly anticipated. He could smell warm wine and cinnamon mingled with other spices.

“We’ve got mulled wine brought o’r from Thistles. Now go on and give tha’ one ta Mr. Trevor, there,” she instructed her son, who followed carefully cradling a mug in both hands. Drew made his delivery to Trevor and returned to his mother for his, and Freddie’s, reward for their morning chore.

“I think you will be quite delighted to hear, Mr. Trevor, ye’ve been asked to stay at Thistles as soon as yer able ta travel. Mrs. Harris just sent word.”

“
Miss Harris
, you say?” Trevor perked right up at the mention of her name.

“I said
Mrs. 
Harris, she’d be ’er mother and mistress of Thistles.” Mrs. Morley regarded him with disbelief.

“Am I to reside under the same roof as . . . as . . . that angel?” Trevor uttered with mingled awe and disbelief.

“Since that is where she lives, I s’pect so, if it’s Miss Harris ’oo ye mean.” Their hostess’s expression softened. She smiled, glanced heavenward, and mumbled, “He’s smitten, that’s fir sure.”

Trevor touched his cravat, primping, and cringed when his hand came upon his shawl. He glanced down at his shirt-clad torso. “I cannot arrive dressed like this!”

Neither of them had had the satisfaction of a proper neckcloth for a good week. Their overworn, limp linen had been wound around their necks and simply tied. The jackets and coats they had worn were being repaired but were not even remotely close to their original perfection.

“I need
ma
-luggage,” Trevor announced. “I’ve an extra set of clothes there.”

“You’ll need much more than that,” Freddie replied under his breath.

“I will not appear before Miss Harris and her family in this dreadful condition!” Trevor rounded on Freddie. “And you should think about your appearance as well. Your father and sisters would be appalled if they could see you.”

Freddie’s appearance was the least of his problems regarding his family.

“Not to worry, Mr. Trevor.” Mrs. Morley’s soothing tone must have been employed to calm him. “I’ll send Drew ta fetch yur bag just as soon as the weather lets up and ye’ll have yur new duds soon enough.”

Trevor relaxed against the back of the chair.

“I thank you, and your son, for taking such pains on my behalf.” Trevor gazed skyward and mumbled, “I cannot imagine what has made me so needy of late.”

“Well, then, let us see wot’s goin’ outside, shall we, Drew?”

“Aye, Mum.” The lad hopped to his feet and glanced at Freddie, bidding him farewell. Mrs. Morley left the tray and followed Drew out the door.

Freddie took a deep drink of his wine and stared at Trevor, who still held his untouched mug.

“I cannot believe that I am to reside under the same roof as she, and see her every day.” Trevor’s mood markedly improved before Freddie’s eyes. “I can only dream of having her near, of standing up with her.”

“Em . . . Trev, you’ll need to be steady on your feet before you can think of dancing with her.”

“Yes, yes, you are right, Fred. Well . . . you know what I mean.” Trevor shifted about on the chair then reached out with his hand. “Could you . . . your arm, if you please.”

“Of course, Trev.” Freddie drained his mug, set it on the table, and moved closer to aid his friend.

“Don’t know how I managed to get into that chair.”

“I’m sure with Miss Harris’s presence you were feeling no pain.” Freddie set Trevor’s mug to one side before sliding his arm around his friend’s waist and helping him to the pallet near the fire. “I’m certain you will continue to improve once you arrive at Thistles. You’ll have a proper bed there and soon feel quite the thing.”

“Yes, a bed.” Trevor winced and eased on his back. “It shall be very nice.” The lackluster reply illustrated his fatigue.

“I think Miss Harris will be the exact medicine you need.” Freddie pulled the rolled, makeshift pillow under Trevor’s head and saw him as comfortable as he could. He imagined with the improvement in accommodations, his friend would recover in no time at all.

“Ah, yes . . . 
Miss Har-ris
.” Trevor’s eyelids slid shut, he drew in a deep breath, and with a whimsical smile touching his lips he was soon asleep.

Freddie and Drew started out fairly early the next morning and the weather had been moderate. Dragging the ever-useful sled behind them, Drew led the way to the wrecked phaeton. The lad knew exactly where to find what remained of the sorry-looking vehicle and proved a deft hand at retrieving the luggage.

If Freddie had tried to scale the mountain of snow collected on the wreckage, disaster surely would have followed. Drew neither caused a further collapse nor lost either piece of baggage. Once finished, they strapped their cargo to the sled and headed back.

They raced back to Penshaw through the worsening weather, one challenging the other. Freddie did not need to slow the sled on his approach to the house. He pushed on with all his might through the increasingly bad, snowy conditions. Drew ran past him through the knee-high snow in the walk and leaned against the front door until it opened. He waited for Freddie to pass him, coming at full speed into the foyer, then closed it firmly after they were safely inside. They laughed with relief, between trying to catch their breath at the accomplishment of their task and the safe arrival home.

“We made it back just as it really started comin’ down.” Drew slapped his arms and legs, probably trying to restore the circulation in his extremities.

Freddie unfastened and uncovered the luggage they’d retrieved. “All right, here you go.” He tossed his satchel in the lad’s direction and carried Trevor’s precious trunk himself.

“I hope Ma has somethin’ ta warm our bellies.” Drew headed down the corridor.

“I bet she does. Let’s go see, shall we?” Freddie motioned his young companion forward with the jerk of his head. The kitchen stood unoccupied and they found Mrs. Morley in the library keeping Trevor company.

“
Ma
-luggage!” Trevor called out in welcome. “You two are true champions to take on such a monumental task!”

“Come now, Trev, I can hardly call it that.” Freddie set the small leather trunk on the desk and Drew placed the satchel next to it.

“Hand
ma
-shaving kit first to me, if you please,
ma-
good fellow,” Trevor begged, propping himself up.

Freddie opened the trunk, pulled out the shaving kit, and handed it to his friend.

“I know my appearance is appalling; I cannot wait to shave.” Trevor opened the kit and took up the mirror. The unhappy groan that followed was his response upon viewing his reflection.

“Is Da in need of ’elp?” Drew appeared to ready himself for venturing out at a word from his mum. “Shall I go find him?”