Chapter 10
The One Thing He Was Not Afraid Of
The only thing more terrifying than young women, were their mothers.
Or at least that was the conclusion Luke had come to as Mrs. Barnes ushered him into her gaudy drawing room.
The room was not large, only a little more than the length of the sofa.
The decoration of choice was exotic furs.
Mr. Barnes was a military man, so it made sense that he enjoyed carrying a rifle, but the plethora of animal skins made Luke feel ill at ease.
“Please, have a seat.” Wearing a fur of her own, Mrs. Barnes gestured to a chair covered in some sort of coarse black pelt with brown spots with a lighter gray skin flung across its top.
Luke was already feeling nervous, and the scratch of the deceased creature’s hairs against his trousers did not help.
“What brings you here, Lord Maxwell?” Miss Barnes inquired from the sofa across the way.
She was a willowy thing and the only surface in the room not covered by a dead animal.
She wore a simple, green cotton gown that accentuated her striking red hair.
Her pale, thin skin reminded Luke of his ailing mother.
It—along with the intense, unblinking, grin Mrs. Barnes sent his way—did nothing to settle his stomach.
“I …” he tried again. “I enjoyed our picnic and hoped to become better acquainted.” It was not a very well executed compliment, but at least it made sense. He had Clara to thank for that. She had coached him incessantly on what he must say, down to the very word.
“I am glad,” Miss Barnes answered. Not with a blush, but with a triumphant smirk. “Would you like some tea?”
A maid with a tea tray appeared before Luke had time to answer, and Miss Barnes poured the liquid into small, ceramic cups.
She was practiced in the art of serving gentleman tea, perhaps too practiced.
Though her hands moved to the dishes, her eyes trailed him, fluttering up at Luke under a large set of pale lashes.
“I was impressed with the picnic,” she said in a soft, though eerily high-pitched, voice.
“You have such an expansive garden, my lord. I would love to see it once the dahlias are in bloom. They are my favorite flower. White roses would be a close second.” She said the words slowly, deliberately, as if it were information she wanted him to fully digest.
“I am sure Lady Clara will inform the entire neighborhood when the dahlias are ready.” Clara, too, loved the flower. She had insisted they be plentiful at Maxwell Manor, a request Luke had not hesitated to fulfil.
“Ahh,” Miss Barnes handed him the cup. “I had rather hoped you would show them to me.” Her voice was a breathy whisper.
One that was surely loud enough for her mother to hear.
Luke squirmed. Mrs. Barnes’s smile somehow widened.
Miss Barnes had not been flirtatious at the picnic.
What had Luke done to gain her attention?
He wanted to know, so he could make sure it absolutely never happened again.
He suddenly felt guilty for laughing when Clara’s friends had thrown themselves at John.
The man deserved an apology if he regularly felt this queasy.
If given the choice, Luke would jump from his chair and run from the room without even gathering his hat and gloves.
But Clara had asked him to come. She had begged him to form an attachment to this woman.
He could not go back on his promise to help.
All of the teacups were delivered, and Mrs. Barnes decided it was her turn to lead the conversation. “Do you intend to remain at home for some time, Lord Maxwell?” She leaned forward in her own fur covered chair. “We have so missed you in the neighborhood.”
“I shall be here until parliament opens. Then I must travel to London.” He took a large gulp of his beverage, slightly scalding the back of his throat.
He ignored the pain. Clara had insisted he come, but she had not required he stay for a specific duration.
Luke had no desire to extend this meeting any longer than necessary.
The sooner he finished his drink, the sooner he could escape.
Mrs. Barnes lowered her eyes, shaking her head as if she were displeased with his comment, though her smile couldn’t seem to disappear.
“Oh, my lord, what a rigorous schedule you must keep. Why, with caring for your tenants, land, home, not to mention your duties in parliament.” She dipped her head toward her daughter.
“My Rachel is such a proficient planner, and seeing that she already knows Harleston, she would be an asset in a household such as yours.”
Luke was confused. “You are seeking employment?”
The question caught Miss Barnes so off guard, she accidentally spewed tea from her mouth back into her teacup.
“Goodness, no!” Her mother responded, her eyes wide, but if that was because of Luke’s question or Rachel’s rather unladylike response, it was unclear. “My daughter is a lady of quality!”
Luke scrunched his head in confusion. If Rachel was not seeking a job at Maxwell Manor, why was her mother telling him she would be an asset to his home? He could have asked, but that would only prolong a conversation he did not wish to be having in the first place.
Miss Barnes face shone bright red, nearly the same shade as her hair. “Mother …” she mumbled, her teacup rattling against the dish as it shook in her quivering hand.
Luke took this as his cue to leave. “I am afraid I must bid you farewell,” he announced, though it was a lie. Bidding his farewell was the one thing he was not afraid of. “Good day.” He bowed and fled before either woman could respond.
Luke had been gone for less than five minutes, when Clara began pacing in her chamber.
How would his visit go? Would he be able to converse with Miss Barnes?
Clara had never seen him speak with a woman before.
Would he be too scared to do it? She could easily picture Luke standing silently in the Barnes’ drawing room, his mouth hanging open, but no words coming out.
She wished she could have gone with him, though that obviously would not have dispelled the rumors.
Clara continued to pace, scarcely avoiding her maid as the woman went about her usual morning chores.
“Ye looks like a cooped up cow, miss” her abigail remarked as she made the bed. “Struttin’ backs and fo’th. Ifs me mum was here, she’d be shooin’ ye out to pasture.”
“A cow?” Clara asked with a laugh. The maid’s eyes grew white in fear, but Clara shook away the concern.
“I understand what you mean.” She sighed.
“I think you are right. I ought to be out in the pasture.” Clara stepped up to the window looking out at Luke’s beautiful landscape.
The stable was not far from the house, beside it stood a small kitchen garden, beyond that was a grove of trees she had yet to explore.
“Perhaps I will go for a ride.” She did not ride daily like her brother, but she enjoyed a good hour on horseback every now and then.
“Certainly, miss,” the maid answered, pulling the riding habit from the closet. “A brisk ride sou’ds like just t’e thing.” The servant worked quickly, trying to make up for the fact that she had compared her patroness to a farm animal. “Anyt’ing else I cans do for ye, miss?”
Clara shook her head, before slipping out the door.
As she had ridden to Harleston in a carriage, Clara did not have her own mount in the stables. Thankfully, the stablemaster was a knowledgeable fellow and quickly helped her settle into the saddle placed atop one of Luke’s extra horses, a beautiful honey mare named Gem.
They took the ride at a leisurely pace. Clara spent the majority of it trying to admire nature and ignore her worries about Luke’s first attempts at courting.
It was difficult. Soon, without realizing it, she found herself on the path leading away from the house, the one Luke had taken on his journey.
Suddenly, her desire to speak with him overwhelmed her.
She had to know how their plan had played out.
“Faster, Gem,” Clara urged. “Come on, girl.” The mare did not need to be told twice.
Clara yelped as the horse shifted to a full gallop, tearing across the pebbly road at an impressively frightening speed.
Clara gripped the reins, closing her eyes as the horses hooves kicked the dust up into her face.
After a moment, she was able to relax, and finally, she was distracted from her worries.
The only thing in all the world seemed to be the wind pushing past her face, the sun beating hard against her dark blue gown, and the thrill of tearing across the English countryside.
She felt like a little girl again, being spun around by her Papa, her little feet flying up off the ground as the whole world spun around the two of them.
Lost in her happy memories, she did not notice the rider approaching her in the opposite direction. “Whoa,” came a deep voice as the gentleman pulled his horse to a halt. Clara opened her eyes just long enough to see a blur of Luke atop his black horse.
“Luke!” she called, pulling Gem to a quick stop.
The horse snorted in frustration. “Luke, how did it go?” she edged the horse to turn around, though Luke had done the same.
They faced each other as their horses pulled up to one another.
There was nothing in Luke’s appearance that suggested the outing had been a complete disaster.
Then again, there was nothing signifying it had been a success either. “Did you use the line I gave you?”
Luke dipped his head.
“And how did Miss Barnes feel about it?” Her words came out in a rush.
Luke’s face paled. “She liked it.”
Clara giggled at the reaction. “Tell me everything,” she insisted.
So as they slowly meandered to the house, Luke gave a thorough recountment of his visit.
It had not been a long encounter, but he remembered the conversation perfectly, giving Clara an answer to each of her many questions.
“You truly asked her if she was seeking employment?”
The top of Luke’s ears turned pink. “Yes,” he answered. “I could not understand her mother’s comment otherwise.”
Clara snickered. “She was implying she would make a good wife.” Why was this something that had to be explained so explicitly? “Mrs. Barnes wished for you to see that a woman could help run your day-to-day and make your life much easier.”
Luke’s brow lifted in surprise, then lowered in confusion. “But you already do that for me.”
“Yes, I do, but you must absolutely not tell Mrs. Barnes that. That would upend our entire operation.”
Luke leaned toward her. “And what is the next step in our plan?”
“Well that is obvious,” Clara answered. “The first step to any courtship is flowers. As many as possible. A whole gardenful, if you can manage it.”
Luke sighed. “Please do not make me walk with her in the garden again.” He sounded like a pouty toddler.
They had reached the stables, and Clara chuckled as Luke easily lifted her from the saddle. His hands remained on her waist just a second longer than she expected. “I suppose a large bouquet will be sufficient,” she answered reluctantly. “Though if it were me, I would want the whole garden.”