Jack of Hearts (18 page)

“Of course not, Elspeth. I was just thinking about motive. Wouldn’t he have more reason to go after Trantor?”

“And then there is Mr. Trantor himself,” Patrick pointed out.

“I am
sure
Joseph would never wish me harm,” Anne protested.

“But if ye’re looking for motive, Mr. Aston, then Trantor’s got one. He wants to marry Miss Heriot. Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, for speaking of yer private business.”

Anne sat there, irrationally furious that Jack Belden was hearing all this. She felt she had suddenly become the center of a sordid drama, through no fault of her own.

“He is your father’s second cousin, Anne. He would inherit everything if anything happened to you, wouldn’t he?” Elspeth reflected.

“Oh, Elspeth, not you too. Joseph cares about me. I admit I have disappointed his hopes, but he would never harm me. I am sure it is Ned Gibson. His family has a history of following General Ludd, and we all know the violence they brought to Yorkshire.”

“I understood it was mainly directed at machines,” said Val.

“William Horsfall was shot to death, all because he was bringing in a new steam engine,” Anne told him.

“But hasn’t it all calmed down over the past few years?” Elspeth asked.

“There may still be a few men who are resentful,” commented Jack, his tone conciliatory. “This Gibson may be one.”

Anne looked over at him gratefully. “Thank you, my lord. I was feeling that I was the one on trial, merely for running the mills the way my father ran them!”

“I don’t think a discussion on the labor question is one we want to continue, is it, Val?” Jack continued smoothly. “I think the question here is to find out who did this and why. Obviously, Ned Gibson is the one to start with.”

“Thank you again, my lord,” Anne said warmly.

Jack smiled at her and then continued apologetically, “We cannot overlook your cousin, Miss Heriot. But we will start with the person who is the most obvious suspect.”

* * * *

After Anne left the room to see Patrick off, Elspeth looked at her husband. “You were hard on Anne, Val. You sounded as though you were cross examining one of your men.”

Val ran his hand through his hair. “I know. I’ll have to apologize. It is just that I know what it is like to work for a living and be at the mercy of the one who is your master.” He hesitated. “You must admit, Elspeth, Anne has never had to worry about anything. Her father’s mills have provided her with the life of a lady.”

“That’s not her fault, Valentine,” Jack protested.

“I am not saying it is a fault, Jack. It is just that Anne would have a hard time imagining the life of a mill worker.”

“Her father knew, and he didn’t seem to let it get in the way of his profits,” countered Jack.

“No, but I’d be willing to bet Trantor is much harder on the workers. I think a visit from Patrick is a good idea.”

“And what about Trantor?”

“I think we must trust Anne’s perception that he is too fond of her to wish her harm.”

“Surely he only wants to marry her to gain control of her fortune,” Jack said indignantly. “If she married elsewhere…”

Val gave Jack an ironic smile. “Your anger is a little out of place, Jack. You yourself need to marry Anne for her fortune, after all.”

It took all of Jack’s self-control not to respond to Val’s thrust. And why was he so furious, he asked himself, as he took a deep breath and turned to stir the fire. He clenched his hands on the warm iron poker. When he turned back to Val, however, his tone was bland. “Touché, Val. I suppose I am a little annoyed to have to add a fourth to Miss Heriot’s list of suitors.”

“Oh, stop, both of you! Joseph Trantor is most certainly not one of Anne’s suitors—not that it is any business of yours, Jack.” Elspeth turned to her husband. “And since she has turned elsewhere for a husband, it could well be that her cousin is behind the attack, Val,” she added worriedly.

Val gave his wife an apologetic smile. “I know I was hard on Anne, Elspeth, and I will ask Patrick to keep a careful watch on her.”

Elspeth gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, saying, “Come, you can make your apologies to Anne and invite her to join us on a ride. Do you want to come, Jack?”

“Thank you, Elspeth, but having just stirred up the fire, I think I will take advantage of it and read my book.”

* * * *

Jack stared at the pages blankly for a while, then finally gave up trying to read. He leaned over and gave the fire an aimless poke. Why
should
he resent Trantor so? Especially since it was clear that Anne Heriot would never entertain the man’s suit. Val was right. How was he any different from her cousin, pursuing Anne for her money?

He pushed at a fallen log. Somehow his feelings for Anne Heriot were beginning to change. Or, to put it more accurately, he was beginning to have feelings for her. He certainly had had none at the beginning. He had seen her only as a means to an end, as a woman with whom he was trying to negotiate a business arrangement.

Some negotiator he’d turned out to be. Not only had he failed in convincing her that he would make the best husband, but he was beginning to think that she would make a very good wife indeed, with or without her fortune. Didn’t that make him some kind of a fool, starting to care for a woman who had no interest in him? He poked at the fire again.

“If you keep doing that, Lord Aldborough, you are going to make it go out altogether!” said an amused voice behind him.

Anne sat down on the chair opposite, and Jack gave her a rueful smile. “You are right, Miss Heriot. I am stirring things up too much,” he agreed, replacing the poker and then wishing, for some reason, that he had something else to do with his hands.

“I wanted to thank you for supporting me, my lord,” Anne told him quietly.

“It seemed to me that Val was being a bit harsh. I am sure your father was fair to his workers.”

“I know he was. Especially compared with some of the other owners.” Anne sighed.

“I am sure you must miss your father, Miss Heriot.”

“I do. I trusted all his decisions about the mills. But I had only seen the mills on paper, you see. It is very different to examine account books than to walk through a weaving loft.” Anne hesitated, then looked up at Jack, her confusion clear in her eyes. “Have you ever been in a factory, my lord?”

“No,” Jack admitted.

“It is very noisy…so noisy I don’t know how one can think. There is a rule against talking, but that seems unnecessary to me,” said Anne with an ironic smile, “for I can’t imagine how you could carry on a conversation with the looms going. And then there is the sorting shed. It’s where the children work, pulling the wool and feeding it into the rollers. I found out that one little girl had her hand caught…” Anne was silent for a moment. “Do you know something, my lord?”

Jack could hear from her voice that she was on the verge of tears. “What, Miss Heriot?” he asked gently.

“I have tried to put all this in the back of my mind. I have tried to tell myself it is the same everywhere. That, in fact, it is possibly better in the Heriot mills and our workers are lucky to be there…as indeed they are,” she added, her confusion almost palpable. “But how can I call anyone fortunate who is deafened by the looms, or a child who is always in danger of crushed fingers or worse?”

“Yet without their jobs, where would your workers be? There is not enough work on the land for them all. It is no longer easy to support oneself as a hand weaver. Their future is in the mills. Without them, they would be begging along the highways.”

“Yes, I keep telling myself that. But I never realized before that everything that was given to me came from their hard work.”

“And your father’s. He started out in the mills, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Anne sighed again. “I just wish I knew what was the right thing to do.”

“Let Sergeant Gillen investigate, Miss Heriot. He can find out just who Ned Gibson is and how justified his complaints. In the meantime, I suggest you enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

Anne gave him a grateful smile. “I suppose you are right. I can’t do anything until Patrick discovers more. And I will enjoy the holidays, but not here, I am afraid,” she added regretfully. “I must get home to see how Sarah is. I can’t leave her alone after such a frightening experience.”

“I will be sorry to see you leave, Miss Heriot,” he told her, and the sincerity in his voice was obvious.

“Thank you, my lord. And thank you for listening to me.”

After she’d gone, Jack went to the window and looked out. The day was a gray one, with an occasional breakthrough of wintry sunlight. It didn’t look like snow, and he realized that he was wishing for it. Hoping for a regular blizzard to keep Anne Heriot at the Astons’.

He had jumped to her defense automatically, his protective instincts aroused by Val’s attack. It wasn’t that he agreed with what she was saying, however. At some level he was disappointed in her unwillingness to see that Ned Gibson or her workers had any cause for complaint.

He had been a Whig before Spain, but his time with the
guerrilleros
had strengthened his radical tendencies, for most of his comrades were peasants, fighting for their land and livelihood. He had lived closely with them, and any notions he might have had about the supposed natural superiority of the upper classes had been dispelled early on. He’d known that one day he would inherit his uncle’s title, but he had not expected it to be for years. And since he did have to assume the privileges of birth and rank, he was determined to find ways to better the lives of his tenants.

So it wasn’t support of her ideas that led him to Anne Heriot’s defense. Perhaps it was his intuition that underneath her words lay the confusion she had just revealed to him.

He admired her for asking those painful questions. He liked her for it. Perhaps he was even beginning to love her for it. Bloody hell, what a ridiculous thing to have happened! Why was he becoming vulnerable to the one woman it seemed he couldn’t win?

Because he admired her straightforwardness and courage in coming to London without a father’s protection and setting out to get what she wanted. Because he couldn’t charm her! Because she was direct and honest about her own faults. Because she was both strong and vulnerable, hard and soft. And because when they danced, had he been able to pull her closer, she would have fit right against his heart.

Anne left the next morning and was home by afternoon tea. She found Sarah in the drawing room, wrapped in a wool shawl, half dozing by the fire.

“Why, Anne, what are you doing home?” she asked.

“I came as soon as I heard what happened. I couldn’t leave you alone after such an experience. How is your arm?”

“ ‘Tis much better. I’m able to move it a little.”

“But you look tired.”

“I am. I think it is the aftermath of the shock. I slept late yesterday and today and find myself napping in the afternoon. But I
am
fine, Anne. You needn’t have interrupted your holiday, although I am grateful for your care.”

Anne sat down, and when James came in with the tea, she poured for Sarah and herself.

“How was your Christmas, Sarah? I hope not too lonely.”

Sarah blushed a little and hoped that Anne didn’t notice. “It was very peaceful…well, as peaceful as it could be after what happened. We—that is, all of us—walked into Wetherby for the mummers, of course. And yours?”

“I very much enjoyed being with Elspeth and her family. But there was one fly in the ointment.”

“Oh?”

“Lord Aldborough. I felt a little uncomfortable, of course.” Anne hesitated. “Patrick is sure it wasn’t an accident, that it was aimed at me.”

“I think he is right, much as I hate to frighten you. I went out and looked at the girth myself. It was definitely cut.”

“We got into a discussion of possible suspects, which led us to the topic of the mills.” Anne hesitated. “Do you think my father was an unfair master, Sarah?”

“Why. no, he was always very generous to me, in his own way.”

Anne gave her a wintry smile. “ ‘His own way’ was rather understated, wasn’t it?”

“It was. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard a servant complain in all the years I’ve been here.”

“And what of the factory?”

“I don’t know, Anne. I’ve never had contact with any of the workers. From all I could tell, your father was no worse than any other owner, and perhaps better.”

“I had a very uncomfortable conversation with Val,” Anne told her. “He was sympathetic to the workers because of his early years. I defended my father and Joseph, of course, but later I couldn’t help but think of what it must be like to work in the mills. Lord Aldborough came to my defense.” It was Anne’s turn to hope that the warmth of the fire was explanation enough for her reddened cheeks. “I told him I was very grateful, of course.”

“Of course,” Sarah said, keeping her tone serious, although she was tempted to smile. “You thanked him and then rushed right off?” This time she couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

“I couldn’t leave you alone, Sarah.”

“I am not precisely alone,” Sarah protested mildly.

“Should I
not
have come home to see how you were for myself?”

“Not at all. I am very grateful, and you know it. I was just teasing you a little. It’s only that your initial unhappiness with Lord Aldborough has seemingly been transformed into something else.”

“Yes, and I suppose I am confused by it. And by him,” Anne admitted. “Not that I have changed my mind about him, mind you.”

“Of course not.”

“Sarah, do stop teasing.”

“I am sorry, Anne.”

“As well you should be, for I am feeling very confused about a number of things that I was so sure of—the mill, Joseph, Lord Aldborough. He kissed me, you know.”

“Lord Aldborough kissed you!”

“Oh, it was only because of the mistletoe, and it was in front of half of Yorkshire. But I must confess that I enjoyed it very much.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider him, then?”

“No, I still prefer Lord Windham’s warm straightforwardness to practiced charm. Lord Aldborough may have been kind to me and he may give expert kisses, but it is just that expertise that I don’t trust. It is how he earned his nickname, after all!”