As You Are (12 page)

Jim laughed rather uproariously, making Devil’s Advocate jump nervously at the sudden sound. “Known ye most of yer twenty-five years.” Jim still laughed. “Ain’t never known ye ta joke like that.”

Corbin felt his face flush a little as he pushed away from the paddock fence.

“Gaw’law!” Jim’s laughter died on the spot. “Ye ain’t jokin’!”

His face, Corbin knew, reddened further.

“How’d ye come about having a fryin’ pan knocked upside yer mug?”

Corbin simply didn’t answer, knowing Jim would quickly realize and just as quickly accept that Corbin would not offer an explanation.

A shout echoed from within the stables, pulling Corbin’s gaze in that direction.

“Sounds like Bernie,” Jim said, naming the newest of the stable hands. “He knows better than to talk like that while there’re ladies visiting Havenworth.”

Corbin stepped inside the long stable building, fully expecting to find young Bernie at work mucking like he was supposed to be. But the lad was hunkered down in front of a stall, facing Charlie, of all people, a few piles of face cards in front of them.

“There blasted well better be a good explanation for this, Bernie,” Jim growled, stomping past Corbin to where the young men sat.

Charlie and Bernie looked up at Jim’s approach.

“Just a bit of a lark, Jim,” Bernie explained.

“Ye’ve no time for larks, boy. Ye’re supposed to be mucking stalls. That’s what Mr. Jonquil’s payin’ ye for.”

Bernie’s face heated with embarrassment, his gaze dropping to his boots as he rose. “Yes, Jim. My apologies.”

“I don’t want yer apologies,” Jim said. “I want ye in that stall working. Ye’ll not be given another warning.”

Bernie nodded quickly and slipped into a nearby stall. Corbin watched Charlie scoop up a small stack of coins and the cards. He too rose to his feet and made directly for the stable door. Apparently, Charlie thought he’d be permitted to leave without comment.

“Gambling, Charlie?”

Charlie shrugged. “Penny stakes.”

“How many pennies did . . . did Bernie lose?”

Charlie’s eyes reached Corbin’s face. “What happened to your—”

“How much did he lose?” Corbin wouldn’t allow a change of topic.

“Hardly anything.”

Charlie tried to push past him, but Corbin blocked his exit.

“Not quite a pound,” Charlie grumbled. “Nothing big.”

A pound?
Corbin shook his head in frustration. “That’s a month’s pay for him. A
month
.”

To his credit, Charlie looked surprised. At least he hadn’t knowingly fleeced the young stable hand. But he shouldn’t have been gambling with the stable staff in the first place. “What were you thinking?”

“Fine.” Charlie spun around, his posture one of obvious annoyance. “I’ll give it back to him.”

“No.” Corbin shook his head. “This’ll be a good . . . an important lesson for him.”

Charlie’s eyes looked everywhere but at Corbin. He probably realized he was in the wrong but wasn’t entirely willing to admit it.

“No more gambling, Charlie.”

Charlie gave a quick nod, then slipped out of the stables, heading toward the house. It was little wonder Mater was at her wit’s end with her youngest. In the short time Charlie had been in residence at Havenworth, he’d managed to singe his bedchamber curtains, trample the newly budding tulips in the back garden, and break a window. Now he was bankrupting Corbin’s staff.

When Corbin had assured Philip that he would look after the family, he hadn’t entirely bargained on Charlie’s troublemaking. Corbin had enough troubles of his own.

He lightly fingered his purpling face. It was more than a little sore. He’d never have guessed Mrs. Bentford could deliver such a felling blow. He felt a little better knowing she could. A woman living alone was vulnerable. That worried him about her. Often.

He looked around the stables. Without Edmund there, he had little to do. The stable staff was well organized and on task now that Charlie wasn’t about. He really ought to go see to the rest of his visiting relatives, which, of course, meant explaining his face.

Corbin set his shoulders and made his way to the house. He took his time changing into his own clothes and washing his face and hands. A full bath would have to wait. He couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer. He entered the sitting room.

“Good heavens, Corbin,” Mater exclaimed. “What have you done to your face?”

“Aunt Clara broke it.”

Corbin spun on the spot and saw Edmund sitting on the floor, reading a picture book beside Caroline. What was Edmund doing there?

“She broke Corbo’s face?” Caroline asked, perplexed.

“We thought he was a stranger,” Edmund said.

“A stranger?” Mater asked, looking confused.

Corbin shot a glance at Jason, seated at the writing desk in the corner. Jason seemed oblivious to his own guilt in the debacle.

“Was your Aunt Clara very upset?” Mater sounded remarkably concerned by the possibility.

Clara had appeared extremely upset, in fact. Though she had administered to his injuries afterward.

“She said if Mr. Jonquil says I can’t come to the stables anymore that I would have to come home,” Edmund said, suddenly nervous and anxious looking. “And”—he locked eyes with Corbin—“I’m supposed to tell you that she’s sorry she hit you.”

“You didn’t come to the stables,” Corbin said quietly.

“Caroline wouldn’t let me.” Edmund gave Caroline an annoyed look.

Corbin looked to his niece, hoping for a more detailed explanation.

“Edmund is going to marry me.” Caroline spoke as if it were an established fact. “So he has to like me better than horses.”

“Why would I like a stupid old girl better than horses?” Edmund shot back.

That brought a quiver to Caroline’s chin and instant moisture to her enormous blue eyes. She snapped closed the picture book, dropped it on the floor, and ran across the room into Charlie’s arms. Charlie seemed as surprised by her choice of comforter as Edmund appeared to be by Caroline’s sudden tears.

“Edmund.” Corbin called to him quietly but sternly and motioned Edmund over to him. The boy moved slowly and far too warily. He obviously expected a severe scold.

“Yes, sir,” Edmund muttered, head hung.

Corbin squatted in front of the boy, placing himself at Edmund’s eye level. He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulders. Edmund was trembling and tense. Snippets of conversations he’d had with him about the late Mr. Bentford rushed through Corbin’s mind. Did Edmund think he meant to strike him?

“I know you prefer horses to girls.” He spoke quietly, keeping the conversation private. “But you must not say so in a hurtful way, not to Caroline nor any other girl. And it is never permissible to tell a girl that she is stupid. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Edmund?”

“Yes, sir?”

Corbin chucked the boy on the chin, drawing his eyes upward. Corbin smiled. “I used to think horses were better than girls as well.”

“Do you still?” Some of Edmund’s tension eased.

Corbin silently shook his head. No, he certainly did not think so any longer.

Edmund made a face, communicating obvious disagreement.

“Apologize to Caroline,” Corbin gently prodded.

Edmund trudged across the room. “I’m sorry I was mean,” Edmund muttered.

Caroline pouted and continued to cling to Charlie.

“Good apology,” Charlie evaluated aloud.

“Excellent apology,” Jason agreed from across the room.

“Caroline.” Corbin allowed the tiniest hint of a reprimand to enter his tone.

She looked momentarily shocked. Mater did as well, though Corbin managed to ignore it. If Edmund was to learn to treat girls and ladies kindly, he would have to see some fruit from his efforts.

“I forgive you,” Caroline said.

“Can we read the book now?” Edmund asked impatiently.

“You don’t want to play with the horses?” Caroline’s pout remained firmly in place.

Edmund shrugged. “It’s a good book so far.”

Caroline’s face split into an all-encompassing grin. “I knew you’d like it!” She climbed off Charlie’s lap and hurried back across the room to their abandoned storybook.

“Layton might not appreciate knowing Caroline is doggedly pursuing a young man already,” Jason said, having moved closer without Corbin realizing it. “Have you put a cold cloth on that bruise? It looks awful.”

Corbin shot Jason a look that sent him instantly stepping backward.

“What?” Jason’s eyes widened.

There was no opportunity to answer. Simmons entered in that moment and announced a visitor.

“Miss Mariposa Thornton.”

Jason’s head snapped in the direction of the door. “What the bl—”

Corbin elbowed him in the ribs in time to cut off the curse. If Harold had been present, they would have been subjected to an entire sermon on the evils of coarse language.

A young lady, probably little more than five feet tall, all black curls and almond-shaped dark eyes, stepped into the room, quickly surveying the entire assembly. Her gaze fell on Jason, and her eyebrows raised triumphantly.

“Well.” She smiled smugly, speaking with an obvious Spanish accent. “
Ahí estás
, Mr. Jonquil. You,
señor
, are a difficult man to locate.”

“What the bl—”

“Language,
señor
!” Miss Thornton interrupted, her shock too theatrical to be sincere.

“You were instructed to direct all correspondence to my secretary,” Jason said in clipped tones.

Miss Thornton raised a sleek black eyebrow. She walked past Jason, quite unconcerned that she was being skewered with a look that had brought more than one witness to the breaking point in a court room. Corbin knew that look—he’d seen Jason at work before.

“If I wanted a correspondent,” she said, her gestures every bit as expressive as her face and a perfect match for her accent, “I would write to my
abuela
.”

“Your
abuela
lives with you.” Jason sounded increasingly disgruntled.

“So you can see how pointless letter writing can be.” Miss Thornton spoke as if Jason had just agreed wholeheartedly with her. “And you must be Mater.” The young lady addressed Mater with no hint of embarrassment or intimidation.

“How did you . . . ?”

“Your son speaks of you often.”

“Jason?”

Miss Thornton laughed, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not that one. The
capitán
.”

“You know Stanley?” Mater was on her feet, clasping the young lady’s hands. Until that moment, Corbin hadn’t realized how worried Mater truly was over Stanley’s safety.

“
Sí
.” Miss Thornton smiled at her. “When the fighting was in España. Our
casa
was used by the British. I knew him then. And again at Ortez. He is a good man. Not useless like that one.” She waved her hand toward Jason.

Corbin looked in that direction. He’d never seen Jason so close to losing his composure.

So much for being in control of every situation
, Corbin thought.

“Corbin, may we use your library?” Jason asked through clenched teeth. “I believe Miss Thornton has some business to discuss.”

Corbin nodded.

“You are Señor Corbin?” Miss Thornton hurried across the room without managing to look as though she were hurrying. “As you see, I have met your evil twin.”

There was an ocean of mischief in Miss Thornton’s eyes, and Corbin found himself smiling down at her, liking her on the spot.

“Come, Miss Thornton,” Jason instructed tensely.

“It was wonderful to meet all of you,” Miss Thornton offered to the room in general.

“Now,” Jason snapped.

Miss Thornton shook her head daintily, then made her way from the room as slowly as humanly possible.

The moment the door closed, Charlie burst out laughing. “She is perfect,” he declared between gasps.

“Miss Thornton is near to driving poor Jason out of his mind.” A smile tugged at Mater’s lips as she made the observation.

Good
, Corbin thought, remembering the horrid advice Jason had given him regarding women.
Very good.

* * *

Clara couldn’t sit and wait any longer. Edmund hadn’t returned immediately from Havenworth. That had to be a good sign. But Suzie said he’d gone inside the house at the invitation of young Caroline Jonquil and her nurse. Clara had no idea what reception, if any, he’d received from Corbin.

Edmund loved the time he spent in the stables. If he lost that because of her, Clara would never forgive herself. Corbin had let her apply the ointment, and he hadn’t yelled or scolded. But she couldn’t be certain he hadn’t harbored a grudge.

There was nothing for it but to go see him. Suzie agreed to look after Alice while Clara was gone. Clara tied the ribbon of her bonnet firmly under her chin and strode determinedly toward Havenworth.

She would simply reason with him, explain that accosting him had been entirely her fault and he ought not to punish Edmund for it. Self-implicating pleadings had worked wonders with Mr. Bentford. He had been rather easily convinced of her guilt in all things. Taking the blame upon herself for every little thing had made life easier for Edmund.

Over and over, Clara rehearsed her speech. She hardly noticed the passing scenery, nor how quickly she approached Havenworth. She’d cut through the small copse of trees separating their properties, that being the shortest route.

“Surely you must know how pleased I am to see you.” A voice sounded from among the trees. “There’s no need to pretend you aren’t pleased to see me as well.”

Instantly, Clara was alert and on her guard. She knew Mr. Finley’s voice the way a person recognized the sound of an angry dog—it instantly announced danger. She realized in the next moment that Mr. Finley was not talking to her.

“You never seemed to be at any of the functions I attended in Town,” Mr. Finley continued.

Clara moved quickly, quietly. She spotted him. He was close on the heels of a young lady, probably Clara’s age, who seemed to be quite determinedly walking away from him.
Good for her
, Clara thought.