Page 19 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
‘What right do you—’
‘Aye or nay?’ Andrew snapped, already tired of this man.
‘Aye.’
Challenge me and regret it, Andrew thought. ‘She is the widow of my late, excellent sailing master, Edward Hale, who died at the Battle of the Nile thirteen years ago. I want Mary Hale immediately remanded to my care.’
‘You have no right.’
‘I have every right.’ He narrowed his eyes, and the guardian took a step back. ‘She is destitute. I am relieving England of the obligation to care for her.’
He turned, looked deep into Rosie’s lovely eyes and took a bold chance. He raised her gloved hand to his cheek. ‘Right, my dear? We need a housekeeper, and I want her to be Mrs Hale. I owe her husband a debt, one I can repay, at least in part, by offering his widow more pleasant surroundings than this dung heap.’
He knew Rosie wouldn’t fail him. She hadn’t failed him in the mail coach when she saw him at his worst. She hadn’t failed him during lonely nights, when she held his hand. In daytime she sat beside him with her knitting, which was more soothing, more normal, than he could ever explain.
She didn’t fail him now. ‘We do need a housekeeper, my love,’ she told him. ‘You have told me much about Mrs Hale. She will be welcome in our home.’
Oh my goodness, Rosie, he thought, as she leaned against his shoulder, requiring his arm to go around her.
He returned his gaze to the guardian. The man’s eyes bulged like a mackerel’s.Now for the final menace of a fleet action, he thought. ‘If you choose not to relinquish her, I can and will take the matter directly to the Navy Board,’ Andrew said, committing a perjury he thought wasn’t out of line, considering his life for the past few years. ‘My ship sails in mere days and you are wasting my time. Well, sir? Are we done?’
To his relief, he saw defeat written all over the guardian’s fat face. ‘She is in the kitchen next door,myhouse.’
‘We will remove her from it now.’
‘But…but…she is my cook and housekeeper!’ the guardian sputtered.
Andrew looked around the corridor. ‘I see any number of women who will probably be happy to assume those roles. They can devour scraps from your table. Good day.’ Oh, why not? ‘I’ll give a good report of you to the prime minister.’
‘The prime minister?’ Fred asked when they were outside again and the air was breathable. ‘I had no idea you are a confidante of Spencer Perceval.’
‘Neither does Perceval.’
Andrew felt Rosie’s shoulders shake, so he tightened his grip. ‘Don’t you dare look at me,’ she managed to say as they headed toward a smaller house of grey stones. ‘If I start to laugh and find myself unable to stop, it will be your fault entirely.’
‘You’re already scolding me like that imaginary wife of mine would. Horrors,’ he said with a straight face, which only made her stuff her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.
‘You two are a menace to law and order,’ Frederick said, which made Andrew’s shoulder start to shake, too.
All mirth ended as they stood in front of the guardian’s house. ‘Let’s make quick work of this,’ Andrew said. ‘If the guardian thinks about what just happened, we might be in trouble.’
Fred nodded. ‘Let’s find the servants’ entrance.’
‘Lead on, sir.’
Down the back steps they went, frightening a kitten huddled there and looking no more prosperous than any of the inmates of the Ashburton Workhouse. Without a word, Rosie scooped it up. ‘You’re coming with me,’ she said. ‘No argument.’ The little morsel cuddled closer.
Andrew didn’t bother to knock. In moments they stood in the kitchen, and there was Mary Hale, turning in fright to look at them and dropping the spoon in the pot.
‘Mrs Hale’ was all he said.
Her response would have ripped his heart apart, if Rosie hadn’t put her hand on his back as Widow Hale sobbed and flung herself into his arms. Both her skin and her hair were greyer than he remembered, telling him more than words about her life in recent years.
‘How? What?’ was all she could manage.
Frederick Harte kindly helped her sit down. She tried to get up, saying something about the stew burning. ‘Let it burn,’ he said, even as Rosie moved the pot off the stove.
Andrew condensed his prison escape down to the needfuls, concluding with ‘I recently learned you had fallen on hard times. You’re coming with us. This is Frederick Harte and his daughter Rosie, who live near Endicott. How quickly can you pack?’
