Page 14 of Needs Must
Jules folded his arms, grinning. ‘Induge me. Or were you too preoccupied with Mrs Harte’s undoubted charms to take in your surroundings?’
Cal shook his head, grinning himself despite his best efforts to remain immune to Jules’s chiding. Talking about the enigmatic Mrs Harte seemed to put him in a congenial frame of mind. ‘To answer your probing questions in the order that they were asked, yes, I did go inside. The place is abysmal, utterly unfit for human habitation. It ought to be pulled down before it falls down.’
‘She’s desperate then?’
‘Anyone would have to be in order to live there, but Dawkins will do his very best to at least make it safe and secure.’ Cal stared out the window at the steadily falling rain without really seeing it. ‘I wouldn’t describe her as desperate, but there is a determination about her that I find intriguing.’
‘Just her determination?’
Cal tutted. ‘Put some enquiries in hand, Jules. See what you can find out about the late and apparently unlamented Harte.’
‘Will do.’
Cal spent the rest of the day catching up with business affairs that he had neglected for too long but found it hard to concentrate. His mind kept drifting back to his meeting with Mrs Harte, and he was unable to quell a feeling of impending doom.
When the time came to dress for a dinner at which he would be obliged to play host to his neighbours, he did so with little concern for his appearance. His valet discharged his duties with quiet efficiency and Cal, in company with his brothers, entered the drawing room minutes before their guests were due to arrive.
‘Ah, there you all are.’ The dowager countess beamed at her three sons. ‘How handsome you all look.’
Celia stood beside her husband, who had a glass in his hand that was already half empty, but that was nothing new. His sister wore a gown that Cal didn’t recall seeing before and which was undoubtedly the height of fashion. Cal gave her an allowance still, despite the fact that she was no longer his responsibility, because he knew how important fashion was to her. God alone knew, she didn’t seem to have much else to make her happy, and her wastrel of a husband certainly couldn’t afford to keep her in the latest finery.
‘Miss Seymour looked remarkably pretty when I saw her in the village the other day, Cal,’ his mother remarked. ‘You have not met her for a while, but I am sure you will be pleased with the improvements in her appearance. She has declined several offers during her seasons and is much in demand.’
Cal, unsurprised by his mother’s lack of subtlety, doubted whether he would be impressed by what he saw. Sighing, he simply nodded before attending to a remark addressed to him by Arthur.
The first of their guests arrived and Cal executed his duties as host with elegance and about one tenth of his attention. His drawing room was soon full of elegantly attired ladies and gentlemen, and Cal and his brothers were besieged by the not-so-subtle overtures of the single ladies and their ambitious mothers.
Miss Seymour, whose virtues his mother had previously extolled, did little to excite Cal’s interest. She was far too forward and lacking in meaningful conversation to hold Cal’s interest. He wondered how Mrs Harte would behave, had she been in attendance. One thing he could say with absolute certainty was that she would not hang on his every word and agree with his opinions unreservedly.
He also wondered what she was doing at that precise moment. How safe would she be at the Ship?He had been distracted by her presence and hadn’t paused to consider the dangers inherent to her current accommodation. Should he send word to Cooper to ensure that she was protected from unwanted attentions? She would not thank him for interfering, that much he did know. Nor did he have any right to. And if he acted anyway, it would send out the entirely wrong message and make her situation ten times worse.
Cooper would not be able to keep Cal’s interest in his guest to himself; it was a far too delectableen dit. Men were as guilty of spreading gossip as their female counterparts, and speculation was already bound to be rife regarding the mysterious lady’s circumstances. Mrs Harte was far too attractive to avoid such speculation. Cal’s blood ran cold at the thought of any of the dogs who frequented the Ship’staproom laying so much as a finger on her.
He sighed expressively, attempting to convince himself that she would be safe enough in a private room at the tavern, thereby evading the attentions of the denizens of the taproom. Her widowed status and the fact that she had a maid in attendance made her situation at least respectable, albeit unconventional. But Cal was also uncomfortably aware that being a widow would make her fair game in the eyes of some of the local reprobates.
When Cal’s butler announced that dinner was served, he offered his arm to one of the young ladies at random and steeled himself to endure the following two hours.
‘I hear that Denmead Cottage has been let again,’ Lady Seymour said towards the end of the meal. ‘And to a lady on her own, no less.’ She shook her head. ‘The poor creature must be truly desperate. Or more likely of questionable character.’
‘I wonder if she’s seen the ghost,’ one of the young ladies remarked. ‘I am sure I would be terrified and not able to sleep a wink.’
‘Can she possibly be respectable, Mama?’ Miss Seymour asked.
‘I very much doubt it,’ her mother replied, shuddering. ‘Not that it matters. We need have nothing to do with her.’
‘It’s curious though, don’t you think?’ one of the gentlemen remarked. ‘She has taken up residence at the Shipwhile the cottage is being knocked into shape. No one knows anything about her circumstances, and she doesn’t have any connections in the district as far as anyone is aware. It’s the talk of the taproom. She’s quite ladylike apparently. Caught a glimpse of her myself, but of course I didn’t address her.’ He sniffed. ‘Highly unconventional if you ask me.’
‘Absolutely,’ a lady agreed. ‘Not our type at all.’
‘Do you always turn your back on people with whom you are unacquainted and about whose circumstances you are unfamiliar?’ Cal asked in a neutral tone, feeling a compelling need to spring to Mrs Harte’s defence. ‘We know nothing about her reasons for settling in the district.’
‘How right you are, my lord,’ Mrs Seymour responded. ‘We all have a Christian duty to be charitable towards those less fortunate than ourselves.’
Cal refrained from responding. The sycophantic woman seemed to have forgotten that she had previously recommended cutting Mrs Harte. Cal might not be able to publicly spring to her defence, but he could do all that was within his power to ensure that local society did not condemn her outright.
The ladies eventually withdrew, and the gentlemen gathered around Cal’s position at the head of the table. The port circulated, and the conversation returned to the subject of Mrs Harte. Unrestricted by the presence of the ladies, those who had seen her were unstinting in their praise.
‘She’s a prime piece,’ Pearson said, smacking his lips together. ‘And in dire need of a gentleman’s patronage, if you ask me.’
