Ethan thought. After the grueling journey and the uncomfortable night, now he was in for a tongue-lashing right in front of Lucy, along with the usual smirking stablemen he’d known since he was a lad. He straightened on the cart seat. He wasn’t going to stand for it. The time had come; he’d avoided it for too long.
He pulled up and threw the reins to one of the grooms. Jumping down, he helped first Lucy, then her mistress to the ground. “Hello, Dad,” he said.
“What the devil do you think you’re…?”
“This is Mrs. Charlotte Wylde.” As he had known it would, the presence of gentry cut his father off. “And Miss Lucy Bowman.” Lucy deserved just as much respect, in his eyes. “They’re tired out and need to rest.”
He watched his father throttle back his temper. His mother had told him what a long fight it had been for Dad to be able to control his quick anger. He admired that, when he wasn’t wondering why he seemed to benefit so little from the effort. “Best take them inside then,” the older man said. “But see you come right back and speak to me.”
Ethan nodded and turned away, only to be faced with a new dilemma. By rights, Miss Charlotte should go to the front door, but… to perdition with the proprieties. The back door was right here, not around the house a hundred feet away. He guided the two women inside and along the corridor toward the front entry. Hobbs the steward would be in charge, with most of the senior staff in London for the Season, but he wasn’t about to go to his offices, with his brother Sam sitting there and goggling at him and reporting it all to Dad. If he could find Sally Thorpe… they were friends; she’d help. As a senior housemaid, she could… But his luck had plumb run out. Alice Ramsay came bustling out of the kitchen after them. “Ethan Trask, what are you doing here?” she demanded. “You’re supposed to be in London with the family. And who’s this, then? Why are you trailing two females, uninvited, into the house?”
Alice got above herself at the least excuse. She imagined she was assistant housekeeper, when everyone knew she was just another parlor maid. “This is Mrs. Charlotte Wylde,” he replied, playing his strongest card. “Relative of Sir Alexander’s… come for…” For an instant his mind went blank. “Come for a visit,” he finished.
Alice had an unerring instinct for a weak excuse. “A visit? With Mrs. Cole and the girls in town? Nobody visits at this time of the year.”
Why didn’t Miss Charlotte say something, Ethan wondered desperately? Alice would hear quality in her voice and pipe down. But she just stood there looking mortified. Lucy was flushed and staring at the floor. He couldn’t bear it. “We can’t leave Mrs. Wylde standing this way. Fetch some tea to the morning room, Alice.”
“Don’t you be giving me orders, Ethan Trask. I’ve half a mind to send for your mother.” A small scared sound came from Lucy.
“Just go and tell Sir Alexander we’re here!” He didn’t want his mother brought into this just now, before he had a chance to explain some things. “He’ll tell you all’s well.”
“Well, I can’t, can I?” Alice gave him a triumphant smile. “He’s been gone all night, no one knows where. Everyone’s that worried, with hooligans roaming the countryside and him out trying to stop trouble, and maybe getting shot dead for his pains.”
This time the sound came from Miss Charlotte. Ethan began to feel unfairly harassed. He hadn’t planned beyond this point. Here was Lucy’s mistress rescued. He was supposed to be a hero in Lucy’s eyes, and instead he was standing in a hallway being mocked by Alice Ramsay. He’d never liked her, by God. “Come along,” he said, and herded his charges on to the morning room. He sat them there, ignoring the nervous looks they gave him, and strode back to the kitchen, Alice trailing him like a foxhound on the scent. “Tea and some… scones or something to the morning room,” he told a kitchen maid.
“You’ve no right…” began Alice.
“Relative of Sir Alexander’s,” he interrupted. “He’ll be right glad to see her when he gets back.” He fled before anyone could argue—only to bump into his father outside the kitchen door.
“There you are.” He grasped Ethan’s arm and urged him outside again. “You will tell me what’s going on, my lad. I can’t