Page 14 of Grasp the Thorn
CHAPTER 10
The next day had long, fine spells between rain showers, and Bear was able to spend most of the day at Thorne Hall. He came home with a pocketful of notes to the appetizing aroma of roast meat.
He frowned at Miss Neatham from the doorway of the parlour. She sat in the chair where he had left her, her foot propped up, the picture of demure obedience. “You have been in the kitchen, Miss Neatham,” he growled.
She smiled, not one whit discomforted by his tone or his scold. “You have been out in the rain, Mr Gavenor, and will be glad of a warm meal.”
Bear surrendered to the grin that kept trying to break out. “Not a great deal of rain, today. When it started again, I walked home.” No. Not home. A brief stopover while he got on with his job, for all that he had spent the day resisting the urge to return to the warmth of Miss Neatham’s nurturing care.
He looped back the curtain to show her the rain pattering against the glass, then stilled. “Miss Neatham, stay out of sight. There’s a visitor coming to the door.”
The rider—anonymous in a heavy rain cape and hood—dismounted, tied his horse to the gate post, and opened the gate. Bear went into the hall and shut the parlour door behind him, ready to open the front door when the knock came.
The caller was Pelman. Of course, it was. “Gavenor. I rode up to see how you are. My sister was concerned about you, all the way out here on your own.” The man did his best to peer over and around Bear, who blocked as much of the doorway as he could.
“Kind of her, Pelman. But—as you see—I am well.”
“Can I come in for a minute and dry off?” Pelman asked. “I am as wet as a fish.”
Bear could think of no reasonable way to refuse, little though he wanted to invite the man in. “Yes. Yes, of course. Come through to the study and I will pour you a brandy.”
“Thank you. I don’t like the look of the bridge back down the road a bit. If that goes, you’ll be cut off. Best come stay with us, Gavenor.” Pelman followed him down the hall. Thank the gods, Miss Neatham was a tidy soul and insisted on everything being put away where it belonged. He opened the study door and ushered Pelman inside. “Yes, pack a bag, my dear fellow,” Pelman said, “and come back with me. We have plenty of room.”
“I will not, though I thank you for the invitation.” Bear had many reasons for declining the invitation, and—unless he missed his guess—any he shared with Pelman would soon be spread through the whole village. “I have all I need here, and the rain cannot last forever. I can get out during the clear spells and I’ve made a start on surveying what the manor needs in the way of repairs. If I move into the village, I’ll be too far away to fit my work around the weather.”
“Well, if you say so.” Pelman accepted the offered brandy and took an immediate swig, not waiting for it to warm. “To be honest, I thought I might find you tucked up in a love nest with Rosa Neatham. No one in the village has seen her since before the storm started, and you carried her father off a few days ago, apparently.”
Disgusting maggot. Apparently, he had misjudged young Georgie, or the whole village would know precisely where Miss Neatham and her father were living. “Which I would hardly have done if Miss Neatham was my mistress, Pelman.”
Pelman gave a casual wave of the hand. “Oh, whatever one might say about our Rosa’s morals, no one can deny she is a devoted daughter. So, you do not have her here?” He peered at Bear as if evidence of Miss Neatham’s whereabouts might be written on his forehead.
“On our brief acquaintance, I thought her a most ladylike and demure creature.”
Pelman laughed, a bark of a sound. “Yes, she gives that impression. She is a tigress in bed, though, I can tell you. The baron taught her some famous tricks. Of course, he was used to London paramours.”
Courtesy or no courtesy, Pelman was an inch from being hurled into the nearest puddle. “I am finding this conversation distasteful, Pelman. And I must say, if that hovel from which I removed Mr Neatham was the standard of accommodation you offer your mistresses, you are a cad.”
The man clearly had a death wish, for he continued unperturbed, “Once Rosa decides to be reasonable, I will find her something better.” He frowned. “Though if you have turned her head, I suppose she might keep being difficult. Still, you don’t plan to stay, do you? She’ll be mine in the end.”
Over Bear’s dead body, or Pelman’s, which was the better idea. “Time for you to leave, Pelman.”
Pelman tipped back the last of his brandy. “What? You are throwing me out?”
“It is time for you to leave. On your feet would be my preference, for I am a peaceable man.” Twenty-four years of war was enough for any man. Bear would not fight unless he had to, but he was considering an exception for Pelman. Pelman must have seen the urge to murder in Bear’s eyes, because he stopped grumbling, led the way back toward the front door, but suddenly stopped and hurled open the door to the parlour.
Bear came up behind his shoulder. A quick glance showed a blanket draped casually over the couch where Mr Neatham lay asleep, hiding the man from view. Rosa had also removed her workbasket and herself. The room, at least from the door, appeared empty.
Bear let his anger colour his voice. “Pelman, are you calling me a liar to my face? For I cannot imagine any other reason for you to open doors in my house. Let me make this perfectly clear. Miss Neatham is not my mistress. Furthermore, I do not believe she is, or has been, your mistress, and if you continue to insult her, I will feel impelled to introduce your teeth to the back of your throat.”
Pelman backed away toward the escape route of the front door, picking up his rain cape and hat as he passed. “Now, now. No need for violence.”
“I hope not, for I am a peaceable man.”
Once he reached the safety of the front path, Pelman turned back. “She is not worth it, you know, whatever she may have told you. Acts respectable, but everyone knows the aunt who ran off with a soldier to become a light skirt in London was really her mother, and the one she claimed as her mother was the baron’s mistress. A role she took up herself when Neatham’s wife died. I attended school with the current Lord Hurley, and he told me everything.”
Bear took a deep breath until the red faded from his vision. Pounding the man into the paving stones would not solve anything. “Pelman, you have done me several services. I have paid you for the information about the hall that you sent before I came. I have yet to pay you for securing this cottage for me, and for ensuring it was stocked with fresh food. Wait there and I will fetch the money for that now, and we shall part ways.” Bear closed the front door to prevent Pelman from re-entering and fetched his billfold from the study.
When he emerged from the house, Pelman stood in the same place, as if frozen, his jaw slightly dropped. He shook his head in slow disbelief. “You are… You are dismissing me as your agent? Over Rosa Neatham?”
