More Than a Mistress. Ann Lethbridge

she say?

      Jane’s lip curled. ‘See. I told you it was all a farradiddle.’

      ‘They think we’ll steal them blind,’ Beth said.

      It was an outbreak of burglaries that had turned the townspeople violent, even after Caro told the constable she could account for all her girls at the time of the crimes.

      ‘I’m leaving at the end of t’month,’ Jane said. ‘There’s good money to be made in London. Abbesses always looking for new blood. Once the weather breaks, I can walk there in a fortnight.’

      ‘How much does a girl make in Lunnon?’ Beth asked.

      ‘A fortune if you finds the right man,’ Jane said. ‘Dripping with jewels and furs, some of the girls are.’

      Beth’s eyes grew round.

      ‘It is not quite like that,’ Caro said. ‘Very few girls meet that kind of man. And often they cast them off, the way they throw out old clothes.’

      ‘What would you know about it?’ Jane sneered.

      Caroline coloured. ‘I have eyes.’

      Merry didn’t care much for Jane. Gribble had found her slipping a silver teaspoon in her pocket. Caro had reminded her that she might have done the same, if she had been in Jane’s situation.

      Damn it. If Merry didn’t do something soon, these two women would slip back into their old ways.

      A feeling of inadequacy swamped her. Grandfather would have been able to deal with the mill owners and the shopkeepers. He wouldn’t have been locked out of the meeting.

      Because he was a man.

      If only Prentice would stand up to them.

      As a manager, Prentice had very little clout. He could speak on her behalf, but even though he was the manager of the largest mill in Yorkshire, he wasn’t the owner.

      The only way she would ever have a voice in those meetings was if she was married. And then that voice would go to her husband.

      Which brought her right back to the mad idea she’d had this morning—and rejected before it was fully formed. How she could have let such an idea creep into her mind, she didn’t know.

      ‘I’ll find a way to bring them around,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’ But how?

      Merry squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the document, forcing herself to read the figures again. The mill was in trouble.

      How had it happened so quickly?

      The door opened and Caro glided in as if she walked on air. Even on a good day, Merry galumphed around, as Grandfather always said.

      But then Caro was as small and delicate as Merry was tall and big boned.

      She smiled at her friend. ‘Lessons over?’

      ‘Yes. I’ve left them with some needlework. There are sheets in need of turning.’

      ‘They really don’t have to work for their board, you know.’

      ‘I know.’ Caro clasped her hands together. ‘But it does them good to keep occupied as well as giving them a feeling of worth. They are not bad women. Only misguided.’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Although I’m a bit worried about Jane. I think she’d sell her grandmother for a shilling.’

      ‘Probably less.’

      They laughed.

      ‘How soon can we rebuild the house?’ Caroline asked. ‘Is it possible?’

      ‘Not until the snow clears, I’m afraid.’

      ‘I suppose Mr Prentice did his best?’ Caro sounded doubtful.

      ‘I’m sure he did. Although he doesn’t feel as strongly about finding the girls work as we do, he has always followed my instructions.’

      ‘As far as you know.’

      ‘Your biases are showing.’

      ‘He’s too nice. Too friendly.’

      Merry sighed. ‘He’s young. He tries too hard and I wish Grandfather’s old manager had stayed on. He was crusty, but he knew everything there was to know about wool. He would have known how to handle the other mill owners.’

      ‘Did he retire?’

      All the old anger returned in a hot rush. Her hands curled into fists. ‘He didn’t want to work for a woman. Said if I got married he’d be happy to come back.’ She’d been terribly hurt.

      ‘Oh, Merry. That is ridiculous.’

      ‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m making a mistake.’

      ‘Why should you give up something you’ve worked so hard at all these years?’

      ‘Grandfather always used to say I was just as good as a son. But honestly

      Caroline winced. ‘You are as good. Clearly you are.’

      It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed the appropriate roles for men and women, and in the past they’d been in accord. Merry glanced down at the figures in her book. Was she wrong after all?

      ‘We will find a way,’ Caro said. ‘I didn’t have a chance to ask you how your game of billiards went. You were in high form last night.’

      Merry felt heat creep up the back of her neck. ‘He won.’

      ‘Then I suppose you will be wanting a rematch this evening?’

      Hardly. ‘Perhaps you’d care to join us for a game of cards.’

      ‘You need four for cards,’ Caro said.

      ‘We could ask Jane.’

      Caroline giggled. ‘Poor Tonbridge. He wouldn’t know what hit him.’

      Jane had fleeced the other girls of their pin money the first night she arrived at the house in town. Merry had the feeling she would not succeed with his lordship, but was not going to put her theory to the test.

      ‘Perhaps I’ll ask him to play chess.’ And there would be no removal of garments either. Her insides fluttered pleasurably as the image of his naked chest popped into her mind. Perhaps she should go straight to bed.

      She almost groaned at the unfortunate thoughts that idea conjured. It would be better if she’d never known the pleasures a man could bring to a woman.

      ‘You will join us for dinner, though?’ Merry asked. ‘I can hardly entertain him alone.’

      ‘Naturally. I will see you in the drawing room at six as usual.’

      Caro glided silently out of the room and Merry turned back to her accounts. It was only to be expected that the mill wouldn’t be as profitable as it had been under her grandfather. The army no longer needed the number of uniforms they’d required during the wars and the clothiers had cut back on the quantities of cloth they bought from the mill. If things didn’t improve, soon, she’d have to cut back on the number of workers she employed. With the price of bread continually rising, even those fully employed were barely surviving.

      Nothing but problems, no matter which way she turned.

      She began adding the column of figures again. The door opened. With a sigh, she looked up.

      Tonbridge. The aristocratic lines of his face stark in the cold light from the window. Gorgeous. She blinked.

      ‘Ready for our sleigh ride?’ he asked. ‘I have taken the liberty of requesting the horses put to.’

      Oh, she had promised, hadn’t she? She glanced out of the window. No help from the weather. It looked like a perfect afternoon.

      ‘It