"I'm afraid you'll have to ask Mr. Finch for the particular degree," he said. "Third cousin, once removed, I believe? All Iknow is I received a letter from your solicitor informing me that you were in need of a guardian.”
"Thank you, sir," I said, much frightened and my heart pounding quickly, "but I must decline. As you can see, I am already 23 years old! I have no need of a guardian, and surely nothing can be done while I'm in the mourning period."
"I am sure this is what your father would have wanted," Mr. Finch put in sharply. "He would have wanted you to be protected.”
“But where would you take me?” I protested, my voice coming out as a squeak.
“To my home of Grayspires,” Mr. Nightshade said.
Grayspires.
The very first mention of the name gave me the most curious sensations. Maybe it was the way it sounded in his low voice, the way the words sat reverently on his tongue. Like there was something a bit mysterious and special about this place. Somewhere I’d never seen before in my quiet life.
“Where is that?”
He listed a county I had not heard of.
“What would I do there? I am used to being the mistress here at The Gables. I don’t want to travel there to be the governess to your child.”
Too late, I remembered other men might not like my frank, blunt way of speaking, but Mr. Nightingale said nothing about it.
“I have no wife or child. It is a very beautiful place out on the moors, but I have often thought it was too cold and harsh. Perhaps it will amuse you to add things like a woman’s touch. You can do as you please with it and be the mistress of Grayspires. I am a rough man, but not cruel, simply here to do my Christian duty.”
And I could have been resistant to any other persuasions. If he had given me compliments I wouldn’t have believed them,if he had promised me luxury, I wouldn’t have cared. But to be themistressof a place like Grayspires, a name that sounded so. . . undeniablyimportant. And it was out on the moors. I had never been to the moors, only read about their wild beauty in my books. Well, that was the one sliver of light in this whole horrible situation.
Besides, if he had come all this way to take the charge of a young kinswoman in need, he must be a good man.
So for a moment my distant cousin and I looked at each other.
“Unlike the aristocrats, I work,” Mr. Nightshade said, putting his massive black boot, muddy and travel-stained from the long ride, on the first step of the carriage. “So you must make a choice, Deliverance Rosemond. Is it this or the poorhouse?”
“What about my things?” I asked, taking one tentative step toward the carriage.
It was a very sturdy affair, well-made, with chestnut wood and comfortable scarlet seats. The carriage of a prosperous merchant, perhaps. Someone in trade.
“I will have them delivered,” Mr. Nightshade said, holding out his hand for me. “Come now, be a good girl.”
"May I bring someone? My abigail perhaps?"
"I will provide all you require," he returned, and his hand closed over mine. It was a very big hand, strong and rough, the callouses brushing over my soft skin.
My throat seemed to close from fear. Or from something even worse. . .excitement. And for a moment I tried to pull away, but he had already lifted me into the carriage.
“You may send her things on to Grayspires,” he said, and then the door to the carriage closed and I was alone with my new guardian.
The September leaves swirled around our wheels as we took off at a quite alarming rate of speed, and I had one last, sad littlelook at The Gables—it’s beautiful, cream-colored stone covered with the lovely green ivy, all framed by soft, drooping trees and pretty, manicured gardens.
What did I know of men? None I had ever met had affected me like this before.
"I appreciate," I said through trembling lips, "your kindness in coming all this way for a penniless relative.”
He nodded at me, and his eyes were sharp.
“And you verify that you are Deliverance Rosemond.”
“Why, yes,” I said, almost laughing because he must be nervous too, and as a man of business he would not know what to do or how to amuse a much younger woman. “Are you worried I will say you kidnapped me? No need, I am–sensible, I think. And it is better to be mistress of a new home than to stay here when my old home is going to be sold.”
“No,” he said. “No, I am not worried you will say that you’ve been kidnapped. You came with me quite willingly.”
