The Trouble with Love (The Mason Siblings Series Book 2) Read online

  Before long, the carriage turned down the front drive to a magnificent manor.

  “Cor!” Helen exclaimed as she caught sight of the grand estate. “Pardon me, my lady, but that is nigh on close to a castle!”

  Bridget gazed out the window in awe. “Indeed it is, Helen.”

  A tingle of excitement went through her. Oh, how she would love to explore the grounds! The building appeared to be the remains of an old castle; part of which had been rebuilt. The rest appeared to be uninhabitable, destroyed by a fire, if she were not mistaken. The streaks of black soot and broken beams of charred wood were certainly indicative of a house fire. Goodness, she hoped that that was not how Mrs. Stevens had passed away. She would be careful not to ask questions that could open sore wounds. The father and son were still in mourning, after all.

  The castle was square in shape, with a large courtyard in the centre, and four stories high. A large double-sided staircase curved high above an archway leading to the courtyard. The staircases met above the archway at the massive double front door, which opened in welcome as they approached.

  The carriage rolled to a halt at the base of the stairs and the awaiting footmen quickly lowered the steps of the carriage and opened the door. Bridget looked out in amazement, allowing one of the footmen to help her descend.

  A tall, broad, muscular man with brown hair and golden eyes strode gracefully out the front door, a young, blond-haired boy trotting after him. Both were wearing all black, as was expected for those in mourning.

  Mr. Stevens was rather more handsome than she had expected. His broad shoulders narrowed to a lean waist; his clothing fit him to perfection, outlining his striking figure. It was a blessing that her stomach was void of any fluttering, for if she felt anything for the man she would surely fall into a puddle at his feet.

  Bridget could not help but return his charming smile with a large one of her own.

  “Lady Bridget Mason,” his voice rumbled. “A pleasure.” He reached for her hand and bowed appealingly over it.

  Bridget waited until he straightened, then curtsied in greeting. “I am delighted to meet you as well, Mr. Stevens.” She looked at the boy hiding behind the tall, broad man’s very thickly corded legs. She knelt to bring her head to his level. “You must be Henry,” she smiled warmly. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Henry. My name is Lady Bridget Mason.”

  Henry ducked behind Mr. Stevens again, hiding his face from her view. Bridget’s heart swelled for the little fellow. “I understand your reticence, Henry. I assure you that I mean you no harm. I am here to help you learn a few things, but by no means does that infer that we cannot be friends.”

  His shaggy blond head peeked out, revealing his apprehensive bright green eyes.

  “Would you like to show me to the nursery?” She paused, belatedly realizing that she was ignoring Mr. Stevens. She glanced up inquiringly at him. “That is, if it is all right with your Papa.”

  He grinned at her misstep, the corners of his golden eyes crinkling. “It is acceptable to me. He needs to get to know you; he is rather shy.”

  She smiled, grateful that Mr. Stevens had overlooked her lapse, then returned her gaze to the young lad. “What say you, Henry? Would you like to show me to the nursery?”

  The boy nodded his head vigorously then grabbed her hand and tugged her up the steps to the front door. Bridget laughed at his sudden enthusiasm and allowed him to lead her through the castle.

  They sped through the building, swept up two flights of stairs, and traversed long hallways, little Henry pulling her along as quickly as his feet could carry him. She did not have much opportunity to admire the interior of the castle, but from what she did see, it was magnificent, indeed. With one last turn, Bridget found herself standing inside the doorway of what she could only assume was the nursery.

  Henry let go of her hand and spread his arms wide in the centre of the room, his narrow chest puffed with pride. It was a grand space to be sure, but it hardly appeared to be a comfortable room for a child of seven. It was large, with several windows along one wall, a writing desk, a low, long worktable with short chairs, and several books on literature on the shelves on the far wall. She let her eyes wander further around the room, and she spotted a pile of dry, curling leaves surrounded by intentionally placed rocks and sticks sitting near the low burning fireplace on one wall. The poor child had no toys and was reduced to using his imagination with what he had found around the castle grounds. She clucked her tongue. How could his father have been so neglectful? Had he no funds to purchase toys? Bridget would have to remedy that, even if the funds to do so came from her own purse.

  She noted the doorway across the room, which led to a pleasantly sized bedchamber, but a very small bed. There were more stones and sticks on the floor there, as well. Bridget assumed that was Henry’s bedchamber.

  “You have a very impressive bedchamber, Henry. What do you say you show me where I am to sleep?”

  He nodded again and brought her to a closed door behind her. Eagerly leaving her side, Henry pressed the latch and swung the door wide. Once again, the room was rather impressive; it had a large four-posted bed, a dressing table, writing table, wardrobe, and two bedside tables, with plenty of room to walk around and move comfortably. The furnishings were soft pink and gilt and the wood around the room was a beautifully polished light—almost white—wood.

  The murmuring of male voices and the shuffling of feet could be heard coming down the hallway and Bridget quickly returned to the large nursery to allow the footmen to bring her luggage into her bedchamber without needing to step around her.

  Mr. Stevens followed on the footmen’s heels, smiling what Bridget began to assume was his customary charming grin.

  “I see you have found the nursery’s location well enough. I trust it is acceptable to you?”

  “Indeed, Mr. Stevens, it will suit our needs perfectly.” She looked at him carefully, several things she had observed in the room plaguing her. Those issues were best to be discussed in private. “Would you perhaps have a moment later to meet with me, Mr. Stevens? There are one or two things that I wish to discuss with you.”

  “Certainly. I will let you settle in here, then you are welcome to come to my study at your leisure.” He nodded at a footman hovering nearby. “Brown will show you the way.”

  Bridget smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  He nodded once at her, then turned and exited the nursery.

  Bridget strode back to her new bedchamber and observed the men positioning her luggage. She wondered how Helen was fairing belowstairs.

  * * *

  Charles sat in the study that Stevens had claimed, twirling the letter opener in his hand while he awaited the man’s return.

  Charles had arranged for several men to arrive four days past to begin measures for Bridget’s arrival. He and the last of his fellows had arrived yesterday morning to assist in the last-minute preparations. They had worked ceaselessly through the day and night, cleaning, positioning the furniture, and making the final educational touches on Henry’s character.

  The boy knew his role well enough, but Charles feared that he might let something slip. His name was Henry in truth, but Stevens was most definitely not his father. They found the boy at Mrs. Edwards’ Orphanage; the poor lad had lost his parents tragically in a carriage accident. He was mildly educated and spoke perfect English, which was rather rare to find among the other children, according to Mrs. Edwards. In truth, they had worried that they would not be able to find a boy that did not speak cockney, but had been fortunate with Henry. The lad barely spoke a word to anyone, but mercifully he had immediately been taken with Charles and Stevens.

  Charles turned in his seat to see Stevens saunter in.

  “We have but a few moments,” he said in an undertone as he closed the door behind him. “Lady Bridget requested a private audience with me and will be down directly.”

  Charles inclined his head. “Did she accept this as your h
ome? Henry as your son?”

  Stevens walked further into the room to sit behind the desk. “I believe she did. For me to have a child Henry’s age, I would have had to have him when I was but three and twenty, but I believe I appear older than I am, so the ruse should prove acceptable.” He took a cursory glance around the room, then looked back at Charles. “The work done here is extraordinary. The castle was but a pile of abandoned rubble when you bought it, and now after hours—days—of arduous work, and many helping hands, this part of the castle is more than merely habitable. It’s resplendent.”

  “Don’t get used to it, Stevens,” Charles warned. “We’re closer to catching The Boss than we ever have been before. A few well-placed traps, and he will be in our grasp. Then you and the other men here will return to your regular duties with the Home Office.”

  “Speaking of which, I am astonished that you managed to acquire so many men for the purposes of this mission. However did you accomplish it?”

  Charles gave a half grin. “Quite simple, really. I informed Gilley that—” Charles leapt to his feet at the light knock that sounded at the door. His hiding place already chosen, he hurriedly pulled a latch behind the fireplace mantle, letting the wall panel beside it swing open on silent hinges. He quickly stepped inside the secret passage and swung the panel shut with a light click.

  Safely concealed in his hiding place behind the wall, Charles pressed his ear to the door’s seam and listened.

  * * *

  “Come in.” Mr. Stevens called through the door.

  Bridget straightened her skirts and opened the door to the large study. Everything in this castle seemed large; the hallways, the staircases, and the rooms were all vast in size.

  This study seemed typical in nearly every respect, but for its large dimensions. Bookcases lined one wall and there were papers scattered upon the desk. A massive green and gilt brocade rug adorned the floor in the centre of the room and several leather-covered armchairs composed a comfortable seating area around the large fireplace.

  “Please,” Mr. Stevens extended his arm, indicating the chair across from his desk, “have a seat, Lady Bridget.”

  Bridget sat in the stiff chair and placed her hands demurely in her lap. As soon as she was settled, Mr. Stevens took his seat across from her.

  “Thank you for agreeing to an audience with me, Mr. Stevens.” She thought she heard him mumble “not at all” before she continued. “I first wished to thank you for this employment opportunity.”

  He inclined his head. “We are pleased to have you.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “I am much obliged.” She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling an odd prickle on the back of her neck. She had the oddest feeling that she was being observed, but she knew she and Mr. Stevens were the only two occupying the room.

  She mentally shook herself, then gave Mr. Stevens her full attention. “I wished to speak with you, Mr. Stevens on a matter I find integral to a child’s developing mind.” She took a breath in an attempt to calm her nervous stomach. “I could not help but notice that there were no toys in the nursery. As far as I could tell, Henry has been playing with leaves, sticks, and rocks. I—I was just wondering if you would be amenable to him and I making a trip into town to purchase a toy or two.” Before Mr. Stevens opened his mouth to speak, Bridget continued, “I fully intend to purchase the toys with my own funds, but I wished to gain your approval before we made the short journey.”

  Silence greeted her. She hoped that she had not offended him. Heaven forbid that she be asked to return home before she had begun her work.

  Then he finally spoke, looking discomfited. “I confess that it had not occurred to me...” He cleared his throat. “Of course you should take him, it would give you both time to become acquainted.” Bridget’s heart leapt happily to hear of his approval. “I do, however, have two conditions in my allowing you to go.” Her joy wavered as Mr. Stevens opened his desk drawer. “One, you are not to leave this castle without a footman as an escort. This includes walks through the surrounding grounds and the garden.”

  A light frown touched her brow, but she cleared it quickly. She hadn’t the faintest idea what he seemed to think was dangerous around this part of High Wycombe, but she would not question him. “I agree to that condition, sir.”

  “Excellent. Secondly, you will not pay for the toys with your own funds. I will provide you with sufficient coin to buy toys, and for the both of you to have a sweet. Also, should you require more teaching supplies than have already been provided, please feel free to purchase those as well.” He reached into the opened drawer and pulled out several bank notes. Her eyes widened at the large sum.

  “I thank you, Mr. Stevens, but surely we will not require so much.”

  He waved them at her until she accepted them.

  Bridget beamed at him, greatly pleased with the progression of this conversation. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Stevens.”

  “You are very welcome, Lady Bridget. Now tell me, is there anything else about which you wish to speak?”

  “Yes, actually, I had thought to ask you if you would mind terribly if I rearranged the furniture in the nursery.”

  He smiled his attractive, toothy grin and let out a light chuckle, his golden eyes lighting with mirth. “Please do. You have free reign to arrange the furniture as you desire.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his elbows on the desk’s surface. “If you do not mind, there are a number of things that I wish to discuss with you with regards to your role here in the castle.”

  He eyed her questioningly, and she nodded in understanding. She knew there were to be rules in this house, though having never been in a governess position prior to this one, she hadn’t the faintest idea what they might be. She’d had her own governess growing up and had many fond memories of Mrs. Blanchard.

  She shook herself, focusing on Mr. Stevens’ words.

  “The rules are straightforward,” his voice rumbled through her as he spoke. “As I previously mentioned, neither you nor Henry are to wander the grounds outside the castle or go into town without an escort. Your days off are every Sunday, and every second Saturday. When you are not with Henry, he will be with his nursemaid, Robert.” He paused in thought. “And as it is just myself and Henry—in addition to the servants—living here, the two of you are welcome to eat your meals in the dining room with me.” Bridget’s eyes rounded in shock. “If you wish to accompany us, of course, our butler, Henderson, will give you the schedule of our meals.”

  Bridget did not know what to say. Traditionally, governesses ate their meals in the nursery with the children. Never before had she heard of such an arrangement, but she was not opposed to it if that was the master’s wish. “I would be delighted to dine with you both in the dining room, sir. Thank you.”

  He waved a hand through the air. “Think nothing of it.”

  “If I may, sir, I have one more question.” He nodded, but she hesitated to ask. She intended to resume her lessons, and required permission to have a guest in her bedchamber. “What are your rules pertaining to guests?”

  His golden gaze fixed intently on her, sweeping her from head to foot. Lord, but she wished she knew what he was thinking; his expression was irritatingly difficult to read when he was not smiling.

  After several silent moments, he rubbed a hand over his square jaw, and spoke. “I should think that would depend on the guest, Lady Bridget, and what their activities would be while they are under my roof and on my land. Your activities together should also be restricted to your time off.”

  Bridget blushed to the roots of her hair as she realized what he was implying. “The guest I have in mind, sir, is just a friend.” Her gaze dropped to his desk, then back to his face. “We share a strictly platonic acquaintance.”

  “This friend is a man.” He said it as a statement rather than a question.

  Her blush deepened. She was certain that she looked as red as a strawberry, but she maintained eye contact wit
h him as she said, “Yes, sir.”

  “I see. Very good, then. If that is all, Lady Bridget, then I will not keep you from your unpacking.”

  Bridget stood, thankful for the polite dismissal. If she was to stay any longer, she was sure her blush would engulf her entire body in one bright flame of embarrassment. “Thank you again, Mr. Stevens.”

  He stood as well, and Bridget matched his bow with a curtsey. “I expect I will see you at luncheon?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bridget let out her breath in a whoosh as she closed Mr. Stevens’ study door behind her. She had difficulty remembering being more discomfited than she was at this moment. She had not realized that her inquiry would appear to be a request to invite a lover into the castle, but her new employer had clearly interpreted it that way. She was surprised that he agreed to it at all.

  She folded the bank notes still clutched in her hand, and quickly made her way back to the nursery.

  Chapter 8

  Charles listened for the click of the door behind Bridget before he withdrew from his hidden spot behind the fireplace.

  Stevens stood in the centre of the room, his arms held aloft. “I make a superb employer, do I not?”

  “Enough of your inflated self-esteem, Stevens. You are not ready for Drury Lane, yet.”

  “Yet,” the man repeated with a wink.

  Charles lowered himself into one of the leather chairs by the fireplace, resting his right ankle on his left knee. Stevens joined him, but neither said anything for several minutes.

  The tick-tock of the mantle clock echoed through the room as Charles stared into the fire, his thoughts in turmoil. Bridget had a lover. He could not believe that she would consider bringing him into the castle when she had scarcely begun her position here.

  “She is quite the woman.” Stevens’ voice interrupted his thoughts, and Charles turned his head to glare at him. “I can understand why you would want to protect her so.”

  “Keep your eyes to yourself. She is not for you.”