Page 23 of Yielding to Love

Arguing with a man who smiled so readily served no purpose. “Well, then, we are grateful. Even if Neville is too pigheaded to say so. I’m sorry he was rude to you.”

Major Taverston laughed. “I’ve been sent to Lucifer so often, he is tired of seeing me.” He hoisted a crate from the cart. “Lead the way, ladies.”

*

Camellia helped Mrs. Clay unpack the crates while listening to the woman’s praise for “the fine gentleman.” He’d told her to purchase whatever she needed to prepare whatever the Harringtons preferred. They went to several different shops and he “just opened his purse.” The woman was clearly awed by such liberality.

Camellia was embarrassed by it.

“I asked the major what he’d like, and he said rice and peas. Can you imagine?” Mrs. Clay laughed. “He said he couldn’t get decent rice and peas on the peninsula, and he’d be happy to eat nothing else for a week!”

Camellia returned a wan smile. Did that mean he intended to stay a week? While thinking of a response, she heard a thwacking sound coming from outside.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Clay.”

She went to the front and opened the door. The major was there, hatless, jacketless, shirtsleeves rolled up to expose muscled forearms, swinging an ax at the ramp. She couldn’t help admiring the way he moved his body. All raw strength and grace. Her mouth dried as she watched him pause to yank away a loosened board. What had Marianne said about men with strong hands?

He tossed the board aside, then glanced over at her and grinned. “I decided to liberate your steps.”

She smiled back, glad he could not read her mind. “I’d hoped to be able to take Neville outside, but that ramp was more hindrance than help.”

“A ramp down the back steps would be better. The dirt in the yard is packed firm and it would be easier to roll that chair. Is there any place in particular on the grounds that he’d like to go?”

“I don’t honestly know. He has spent so little time here.” Her preparations seemed haphazard now. Naïve. “But there is a fishpond. And a flower garden.” She’d hired a mason to lay a brick walkway to the garden, but the garden itself was a disappointment. She’d planted it, then had to abandon it. “This all must seem so foolish. He is no better off than he was in London.”

“That isn’t true. Home does not cease to be home just because one is absent from it.”

“But there he at least had Mr. Cooper.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know about your Mr. Cooper, but I’d trust Adam Diakos more than anyone else.”

“You know Mr. Diakos?”

After a pause, he said, “I’ve met him, yes. Miss Harrington, if you’ll permit me, I’ll write to inquire about Mr. Cooper. And if Mr. Cooper is not available, perhaps Mr. Diakos would be interested in the position.”

“Neville does not like Mr. Diakos.”

“Yes, I know.” The major snickered. “But he doesn’t like me very much either. I told him he should reduce his reliance on laudanum.”

She gaped. Neville’s doctor had said to give him what he needed. He said Neville would be the best judge of his own pain. No wonder Neville called the major arrogant. What could he know of laudanum?

“Perhaps you should ask my brother’s permission rather than mine.”

He regarded her a moment, then said, “I wanted to be certain you would not mind.”

The words startled her. It had been a long time since anyone had taken her wishes into account. But perhaps his kind manner was meant to obscure the fact that he wanted her to secure a manservant for Neville quickly. She should assure him he need not stay until they did. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “Of course I don’t mind. And I’ll make inquiries in the village. The sooner we can find someone for Neville the better.”

*

Camellia removed the dustcloths in the receiving room and set the table while Mrs. Clay cooked and Major Taverston sat with Neville in the library. The receiving room was another embarrassment. She’d told the laborers working on the house they could store furniture there until she had a better idea of what should go where. It now held a hodgepodge of chairs and tables, as well as the pianoforte that had been in the music room that was now the library. Since the dining room furniture had been moved upstairs, they crowded around a card table to eat.

To Camellia’s surprise, Major Taverston did eat only rice and peas. He refused fresh-baked bread and Mrs. Clay’s rabbit stew. He said no to wine and drank only tea. Like Camellia, he took no milk in his tea, and when Mrs. Clay brought out a tray of cheese to finish the meal, he refused it, but with an oddly wistful expression. That much, she thought she understood.

Camellia took a small piece. “You don’t like cheese, Major?”

“No.” His face hardened.

“I didn’t either. Most of it makes me feel ill. But Mrs. Faraday, whose farm is on the other side of Tonbridge, makes this from goats’ milk and it doesn’t bother me. And it’s quite delicious.”