A memory niggled in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away, where he kept most of the things that had happened during the time when the flames had taken not only his home and his father but life as he’d known it.
He pinned her with his gaze. “Who wrote the letter if it wasn’t your father?”
She flushed and slowly sank back down. “I’m afraid that was from me, Lord Hawkesmere.”
“Luke, please,” he said, trying to put her at ease.
A wan smile curved her full lips. “I couldn’t possibly.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I insist. Besides, we’re old acquaintances, aren’t we? I thought Mr. Pratt’s handwriting was exceptionally fine. You’ve been corresponding with me all along, haven’t you?”
She nodded miserably. “My father... well, he’s been in his cups more and more lately, and I knew he wasn’t doing what he should. I didn’t want you to fire him... we had nowhere else to go.” She squared her thin shoulders. “So, I’ve been taking on his duties myself. I know that was wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do. And now... He’s never been gone this long. Either something has happened to him... or he’s left me.”
“Good Lord, Miss Pratt. You’ve been surviving out here all by yourself for more than a month? How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” She hadn’t pulled her hand away, and he sensed her loneliness.
She lifted her chin. “I just turned eighteen, sir. And if you insist that I must call you Luke, then you certainly must call me Serenity.”
“Serenity,” he murmured. The name suited her. He couldn’t think of a better word to describe the way he’d felt when he’d first come upon her.
The memory he’d tried to suppress came to him then. The day he’d run away from all his responsibilities and expectations, only to find himself at the ruins of Hawkesmere House. Serenity Pratt was the little girl who had comforted him. The one person in the world he’d let see him weak and defenseless. Her concern for a stranger had humbled him; her kindness had given him the strength he’d needed to get through the most difficult time of his life.
He’d convinced himself that he’d dreamed her, but here she stood, that wide-eyed waif grown to a lovely, ethereal woman.
She’d had so much thrust upon her slim shoulders, but she’d handled it admirably. He wanted more than anything to put her at ease, to give her just a fraction of the comfort she’d given him all those years ago. “Your correspondence gave me all the pertinent information. In fact, I had no idea my gamekeeper was an eighteen-year-old girl.”
He would have gotten rid of her father years ago, but he’d always known the man couldn’t hold down a job anywhere else and it did no harm to let him live on the property, for no other reason than to hopefully keep the poachers away. Since there hadn’t been any hunts on the land since before his father died, there really wasn’t a whole lot for him to do, but according to her letters, she’d kept a few breeding pairs of birds and some hounds. She’d also done her best to keep away the foxes and fed the deer, which was more than he’d expected.
A soft laugh of relief escaped her. “I’m glad. I did my best.” She finally pulled her hand back and drew her knees up to her chest, looking bereft. “I know you’ll have to fire my father now, but I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep doing his job and making excuses for him.”
He finished taking off his boots and stuck his feet in the river, wincing a bit at first at the coldness, then giving a sigh of relief as the water soothed away his heat and exhaustion. “First, I will help you find him, and then we’ll see what he has to say for himself.”
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “I’ve been so afraid. I know he’s probably just run off with some woman or is so drunk he’s forgotten all about me, but he’s never left me for so long. I have a really bad feeling that something’s happened to him.”
Lucien remembered the bruise on her cheek all those years ago, and a surge of hatred for her father consumed him. He could think of a lot of things he’d like to say to the man who’d been taking his money for years while he’d obviously been letting her earn it, all while drinking himself to death and abusing and abandoning her. For her sake, he said none of what was on his mind, and instead sighed as he realized the next problem.
“I’d planned to stay in the gamekeeper’s cottage with your father for the next few months while I supervise the work crews that are coming to rebuild the manor house,” he said tentatively. “Now that I know it’s just you living there, I suppose that’s not appropriate. Is there anywhere else on the property that’s livable?”
She shook her head, and he saw the fear in her eyes, but he didn’t know if she was afraid that he’d force her to let him stay with her or that he’d make her leave. “The old gatehouse could probably be made habitable with a couple of days of hard work, but right now, it’s a mess. I will, of course, vacate your cottage. I’m sorry that I’ve stayed there under false pretenses as long as I have.”
“Nonsense,” he told her sharply. She’d been there for him at perhaps the lowest moment of his life. He couldn’t bear to think of hurting her in any way. “I didn’t come here to drive you out of your home. I’ll stay at an inn until the gatehouse can be made ready. I’d planned to refurbish it anyway.”
She glanced at the setting sun. “It’s almost twilight. You’d have a rough time of it, traveling in the dark.”
He said nothing, wondering if she was suggesting what he thought she was. If so, should he agree to stay with her at the cottage? He knew she didn’t mean to give him anything other than a place to lay his head. However, if anyone found out, her reputation would be ruined, and his position had made him wary of being trapped into marriage.
“You can stay at the cottage,” she said quietly, her face flushing even redder, if such a thing was possible. “It belongs to you anyway. There’s plenty of room, and it would be nice not to be... alone.”
Anger filled him at the thought of how frightened she had to have been. Her father had let her down in every way possible. He promised himself he would not do the same.
“I will stay at the cottage,” he agreed. “Thank you, Serenity.”
She nodded abruptly. “We’d better head that way, or we’ll be caught out here in the dark.”
* * *
SERENITY MOVED DOWNthe faint path that led from the stream to the cottage, her heart thundering in her chest, every fiber of her being aware of the man who followed silently behind her. She couldn’t believe she’d encountered the Earl of Hawkesmere in the woods. When she’d first glimpsed the incredibly handsome man, who wasn’t more than a couple years older than herself, she’d thought him a groom or a footman, someone she might have been able to flirt with and talk to a bit.
In fact, when he’d joined his voice with hers, and she looked up to find him standing there, she’d thought she was dreaming. For so long, she’d been so isolated, and she’d imagined what it would be like to have a friend, a confidante, someone to love. Then this beautiful, broad-shouldered, inky-haired, blue-eyed man had appeared through the trees, and he’d briefly seemed the answer to her prayers.
