Chapter Thirty-Three

If Oliver and Aaron thought it strange when Graham sent them and Priscilla home in his coach while he rented a horse to ride to Marlborough, they didn’t say anything. Eventually they would both demand answers, but handling Priscilla was probably enough for them right now.

But Graham needed to go back one more time. If nothing else, Kit and the others deserved to know that Priscilla was safe. And there were the children to consider. Benedict should have started his apprenticeship by now. He might need something Kit couldn’t provide for him.

And Graham desperately wanted to see Kit one more time. He wanted to replace the final image in his mind with one that was softer, sweeter, stronger. He wanted to think of her standing tall without him, not broken and crushed. Not crying.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to know which image he had of her was correct. Which was the real Kit?

He was going to have to walk away from her either way, he knew that. But, one day, he hoped he’d be able to stop thinking about her as well.

The last thing Graham expected to find when he came out of the trees onto the manor’s front lawn was a scattering of furniture.

Small tables and chairs dotted the grass in front of the house.

Paintings leaned against the wall on either side of the grand front door.

Near the front steps, Benedict and a tall, thin man with shocks of red hair sticking out at odd angles from beneath his cap were busy building some sort of frame. Ropes and hooks and wooden blocks dangled from the top crossbeam.

Alice and Sophie exited the front door, carrying crates of toys Graham recognized from the large room in the west wing.

A group of people, including Kit, Daphne, Jess, Mr. Banfield, the two oldest girls, and all the boys aside from Ben, came around the corner of the house. They were dragging a large ornate cabinet across the lawn, large logs beneath it allowing them to roll the furniture forward. The children were busy moving the logs from the back to the front as the cabinet rolled along. More ropes wound around the cabinet, and the adults pulled steadily and slowly, easing the cabinet forward.

Graham watched, fascinated, as they maneuvered the cabinet to the contraption Benedict and the thin man had built.

The large piece of furniture rolled to a stop, and Kit placed her hands on her hips before looking up at the hook and ropes above her head. Even at this distance, he could see how hard she was breathing, see the curling tendrils of dark blond hair that had escaped the knot at the back of her head. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Absolutely.” Benedict nodded and began darting around the cabinet, threading ropes and tying knots.

“It’s how they load the ships at the docks,” Jess said as she came to stand next to Kit.

Benedict paused and popped his head over the side of the cabinet. Graham had never seen the boy look this excited. “It is?”

Jess nodded and proceeded to tell him stories about heavy crates nearly falling from their moorings, men who slipped on the water-soaked decks and nearly lost hold of their ropes, and the terrifying creak of a rope that had been used one too many times. By the time she finished talking, all of the children were staring at her with enormous eyes while Kit and Daphne looked like they were about to explode from restrained laughter. Mr. Banfield simply shook his head as he checked the tightness of the rope.

“I think,” he said slowly, looking around at the children now taking huge steps away from the rope-encased cabinet, “that those stories could possibly have waited until we were trying to lift the last piece of furniture instead of the first.”

Jess made her way to one of the ropes dangling from the top of the frame. “At least they’ll stay out of the way now.”

Graham had to applaud her methods. There was a danger in lifting a piece of furniture that big, and she had effectively kept all the children from gathering underfoot.

Mr. Banfield took the rope from Jess with a quiet statement that Graham couldn’t hear. She didn’t look happy about it, but she joined the other women around the edges of the cabinet. Slowly and somewhat evenly, the men and Benedict pulled down on the ropes that threaded through the complicated system of wooden blocks, and the cabinet eased off its resting spot on the logs. The women kept a hand on it, and it was all Graham could do not to rush forward and push them all away. Yes, Jess had gotten the children clear, but what if it fell on top of Kit?

Graham held his breath, knowing that distracting them at this point would increase the chances that one of the men would lose his grip on the rope and send the cabinet tumbling down.

Up and up it rose until it swung freely between the posts, the ropes creaking just as Jess had said they would. Carefully they pushed the suspended furniture forward until it was above another, smaller set of logs. Then the men lowered it down and everyone breathed again.

Graham strode forward, walking across the lawn as everyone scrambled into position to start rolling the cabinet toward the front door.

“This is all very well and good,” Mr. Banfield grunted as he leaned into one corner of the cabinet, trying to help it turn on its rolling logs. “But how are we going to get the beds up the inside stairs? We can hardly build one of these inside.”

“We’ve got a great deal of main-floor furniture to move,” Kit grunted back. “That gives us lots of time to figure out how to get the beds back upstairs.”

They’d gotten the cabinet to the door when someone finally spotted Graham.

“Wharton!” Arthur called and bounded off the portico to meet Graham on the lawn.

Graham caught the boy and swung him onto his shoulders. “What’s happening here?”

“We’re ’placing furn-ture.” Pheobe grinned at him before turning to one of the crates and pulling toys out.

Graham looked helplessly in the direction of the adults because he hadn’t yet learned how to interpret Pheobe.

“We’re replacing the furniture,” Kit said quietly. “The house has changed ownership and the new owner wishes to be his own caretaker, so we have to put everything back the way it was.”

They were losing the house? What would Kit do? What would the children do? The questions sat on Graham’s tongue, but the look Kit gave him was pleading. He wasn’t sure what that look meant, but it was better to stay silent until he knew. Maybe his silence was all he could give until he had a chance to talk to her. Well, that and his ability to push around a piece of furniture. He’d moved many a sofa for impromptu drawing-room dancing. Moving it from one house to another couldn’t be that different.

He put Arthur back on the ground and climbed the stairs. His gaze met Kit’s at the top. It was painful and soothing at the same time. Somehow this woman had crawled beneath his skin until he felt like he wasn’t complete without her, yet he knew she was wrong for him. It was like trying to rip away his own leg.

“Priscilla is with her brother,” he said quietly as he placed his hands on the same corner Mr. Banfield was pushing on. “He’s going to take her to one of their country estates until they can decide what to do.”

Color spread across Kit’s cheeks as her eyes lowered. He could feel her sadness, knew enough about her to know that losing the care of Priscilla must feel like something of a failure for her.

“I’m glad she’s safe,” she said softly. Then she put her shoulder to the cabinet and pushed.

“Why is he here?” Kit whispered in Daphne’s ear through gritted teeth.

Daphne shrugged and picked up a framed painting. “I don’t know. But I’m not about to complain about it.”

Kit knew she shouldn’t either. The looks he’d sent her were filled with questions, but he’d thrown himself into hefting furniture around without voicing any of them. With his added strength, they’d been able to move twice the amount of furniture they’d hoped to. Their first priority was to get the house back in order. Without knowing when the new owner planned to arrive, they couldn’t waste any time.

Once they put the large beds and other furniture back in the bedchambers, though, bedding the children down properly would be more than a little difficult. Considering that they soon wouldn’t have the bedchambers at all meant this was a problem she’d have to solve anyway.

Grabbing another framed painting from the front portico, Kit followed Daphne into the portrait gallery. What had once been the space where the children played in bad weather was slowly being returned to its state of refined glory. Kit rather preferred the jumble of toys and games to the portraits of unknown people and the stiff, uncomfortable chairs. When she’d lived in London, she’d never thought to consider the portrait galleries of grand country houses a waste, but now, looking around at a space that was virtually unusable, she couldn’t help but feel like it was all a bit unnecessary. Did the new owner even know who any of the people staring down from the wall were?

The sun shot in the westward-facing windows, sending squares of light across the green and gold carpet they’d rolled out across the floor. It was the same place she’d stood their first night in the house, surrounded by the splendor she’d left behind, wondering if she was capable of the task she’d assured Daphne they could do.

Back then, she’d had so many worries, so many concerns. Over the years she convinced herself they were unfounded, but now they’d come to fruition. Daphne came up beside her, just as she had that night. Her arm around Kit’s shoulders was strong, though, as if this time Daphne was ready to hold up Kit, instead of the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” Kit said quietly.

Daphne gave a short laugh. “For what? It’s not like you went and killed the man so his son, who apparently dreams of being a recluse, could inherit.”

Even Kit, in the middle of her morose ponderings, had to laugh at the image Daphne created. “No,” Kit said as her laugh settled into a smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver on those promises I made. I promised you we’d make it, that we’d change our little part of the world.”

“And you don’t think we have?”

Kit shrugged, but it didn’t dislodge Daphne’s arm. “I think, at best, we just delayed it. We’ve no money, no home. What sort of life are these children going to have now? What will Margaretta tell the next girl who comes looking for The Governess to save her?”

“Wasn’t it you who told me we couldn’t save them all? That saving one had to be enough, because to think about them all would turn our brains into bacon?” Daphne laid her head on Kit’s shoulder. “We’ve saved one. We’ve saved more than one. And I don’t think we’re done. I think we’re just going to have to do things differently.”

“Different how?” Kit choked out. It had taken them so long to put what they had now into place. How long would it be to come up with something new?

“I don’t know,” Daphne said with a gentle squeeze. “But as long as we keep trying, we’ll think of something. God will provide a way for us to do whatever He wants us to do. We just have to go where He leads.”

For a moment they stood that way, Daphne’s head on Kit’s shoulder providing strength and comfort. When had Daphne become the strong one? Somehow Kit had always assumed her happy smiles and content attitude covered the same timidity she’d shown in London. But now Kit wasn’t so sure.

Daphne’s head popped up, and she stiffened a bit before giving Kit’s shoulders another squeeze. “I’m really proud of you,” she said considerably louder than her earlier statements. “Canceling all the contracts because it was the right thing to do. I know we might have some tough days ahead, but we’ll weather it. We have each other.”

After one more squeeze, she dropped her arm. Then the warmth of her body stepped away, and she was gone.

“You canceled the contracts?”

The deep voice that she’d thought to hear only in her memory slid into her ears with the warmth of a cup of steaming tea on a freezing winter’s day.

She didn’t turn around, though, knowing that if she saw that distance in his eyes one more time she’d lose what little control she had on the tears trembling around the edges of her eyes. And she was ever so tired of crying.

“Kit?” he repeated, and she heard his steps as he walked farther into the room. “Did you cancel the contracts?”

“Yes. Nash sent the chessboards out three days ago along with any evidence I had on the men I was . . . was . . .” She swallowed. It was time she called it what it was, or at least what it had been. “On the men I was blackmailing.”

Silence fell between them until Kit wasn’t sure if he was still there or not. Her own breathing was too harsh in her ears for her to know if she could hear his or not.

“Mr. Leighton and I are going back to town now,” Nash said, his footsteps pounding into the room and then stumbling to a halt.

What was he seeing? What was he thinking?

His voice turned hesitant. “It might be a few days before I return. The, er, the man left town, but I have a feeling he’ll be back. I don’t want to leave the office empty too long.”

“What man?” Graham asked with obvious concern.

“One of the fathers,” Kit said dully. “Did you keep his chessboard?”

“I did at first, but when he left without actually coming in to the office, I had it sent to him.” There were a few moments of silence until Nash spoke again. “We’re leaving Benedict here. I know it’s not much, but . . .”

“I’ll stay.”

Graham’s voice made Kit wince. Of course he would stay. Even though he hated her now, he would stay. Because he was honorable and nice and so ridiculously perfect it made her teeth ache. Actually it made her heart ache because she wanted so badly to be a woman he could love.

Kit could be strong in this, too. “There’s no need—”

“Actually,” Nash interrupted, “it would ease my mind if Lord Wharton stayed for a day or two. Just as a precaution.”

“We have Jess,” Kit said, in an attempt to free both men from obligation.

“She can only be in one place at a time, though.” Graham laughed. “I’ll admit that I’d probably want Jess protecting my back instead of me, too, but I can help. At least if he manages to find you, he’ll know you aren’t unprotected.”

Kit nodded, knowing there was nothing else she could say.

“Thanks,” Nash said with a sigh. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re here.”

And then he left, bootheels echoing off the polished floor as he stepped off the carpet.

Once again, Kit and Graham were alone.