High Stakes Chattel (5 page)

Samantha’s misgivings about this rash decision hadn’t faded. If anything, they’d grown stronger. Was it really possible for her to stay with Lord Chattel for an entire month without anyone finding out? And even if no one did, could she remain in that man’s house for such an extended period of time without finding herself completely compromised?

By the time they reached her farm, she’d gotten herself worked up with worry. Taking a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Her mother had always been able to pick up on any sign of distress, even in her reduced state, and Samantha didn’t want to agitate her.

John helped her down, but she asked him to remain outside while she gathered her things
. It would be too difficult to explain his presence, and she wasn’t completely certain Mrs. Potter hadn’t met him on one of her trips to town. Though she trusted the older woman not to gossip, she didn’t know what Mrs. Potter would think. Would she remain working for an unmarried woman who planned to stay with an unmarried man without a chaperone? Or for a woman who planned on paying her salary with the winnings of a contest? Not likely.

She entered the house and stood for a moment in the small entryway, breathing deeply of the familiar scents of lemon wax and
pine. This was why she must do this, she reminded herself. So she could remain here in this place that meant so much to her.

It held the memories of her sweet, funny father, working hard in the fields while her mother made supper.
Those were happy times before his death and before her mother’s illness. Samantha had often helped her father with his work, since there were no other children and farm life required many hands. She liked the “man’s work”. It had made her lean and strong and had given her a certain confidence in her ability to handle problems. She had learned how to plow and seed, how to birth a calf and a million other skills that most girls did not know.

Unfortunately, t
he farm had changed since her father’s death. Samantha had married Henry a mere two months later, while still in a state of grief. After the wedding, she let the fields go natural and sold most of the animals, thinking that the farm would no longer be needed to support her mother. The once-thriving farm now only consisted of one cow, a few chickens and a large vegetable garden. It wasn’t much, but it was all they could handle right now, even with the generous help of Tom, a family friend who came over to do odd chores.

“Hello,” she called quietly as she entered the parlor. “Mrs. Potter?”

The older woman came out of mother’s bedroom, her pleasant face tranquil as always. “Good evening, Mrs. Blake.”

Mrs. Potter
had been a midwife and nurse all of her life, never having a family of her own. She had a calm and serious demeanor that reminded Samantha of a nun. Her presence in their lives had been a godsend. When Samantha’s mother had first started losing her memory and acting strangely, Samantha had asked Mrs. Potter for advice. Mrs. Potter had known just how to care for her. Now she couldn’t imagine being without her.

“Good evening,” Samantha replied. “How is
mother tonight?”

“Very well,” Mrs. Potter replied. “I’ve already gotten her down for the night.”

Samantha went to her mother’s door, smiling slightly when she saw how peaceful she looked in her sleep. Although she would have liked to tell her good-bye, it was probably better that she wasn’t awake. She didn’t always remember Samantha, and when she did, she tended to be very clingy, not wanting her out of her sight.

“
I need to go out of town for a few weeks to stay with a friend,” she told Mrs. Potter, turning away and heading for her own room. “Can you handle things here on your own for a short time? The only thing extra you would need to do is milk Molly and feed the chickens. I can add in a bit more wage to cover that. Would that be alright?”

Mrs. Potter followed her, frowning. “
Of course I don’t mind, but isn’t this a bit sudden?”

Samantha busied herself gathering things so she wouldn’t have to look Mrs. Potter in the eye.
“A dear friend is ill,” she lied. “I really must go. Will you be all right here without me? Tom can help if you need it.”

“
Yes, dear,” Mrs. Potter replied, though she looked a bit suspicious. Samantha didn’t know what else to say. She simply could not afford to tell her the truth and possibly lose her. Winning the Chattel tournament may sound crazy but it was the only thing she could think of to keep their way of life. She needed to know her mother would be cared for while she was gone. She could be suspicious all she wanted, but she wouldn’t leave unless she knew the truth, and Samantha had no intention of that happening.

Less than an hour later, Samantha was on the road
again, headed back toward Lord Chattel’s estate with a small trunk of her things. She’d also had John tie Henry’s horse, Midnight, to the back of the coach, figuring the fine animal would be safe in Lord Chattel’s barn. She didn’t want Mrs. Potter to have to care for him and she wanted to feel like she had a way of escape if she needed one.

By now it was getting very late, and she found herself nodding off a time or two. She’d left at the crack of dawn, knowing the trip would take her
a couple of hours by foot, and she was a bit stiff and sore from where Lord Chattel had tackled her.

Their arrival ba
ck at the estate was not met with any fanfare. Lord Chattel did not greet her, but his taciturn butler, Joseph, met her inside the front door as John carried her trunk up the stairs.

”Lord Chattel instructed me to show you your roo
m and get you anything you need,” Joseph told her as he led her to her room where John had already deposited her trunk. “However, there will not be a maid to attend to you, as we have limited staff.”

“That’s quite all right,” she assured him. It wasn’t as though she’d ever had a maid before, after all.

“He also said that
he prefer you not bother him while he is working,” Joseph continued, looking embarrassed.

“He’
s regretting his decision already, isn’t he?”

She could tell she had guessed correctly
, even though Joseph merely bowed and backed away. “Good evening, Mrs. Blake. Ring if you need anything.”

After he’d left, she looked around the room in awe. The entire second floor of her house could almost fit in this bedroom.
Blue and cream were the predominate colors. A large white marble fireplace held a roaring fire, and the curtains on the two floor-to-ceiling windows were thick blue velvet that kept out the winter chill.

The lovely bedside table held
several books and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase. “How in the world do they have flowers in the middle of the winter?” she mused out loud as she inhaled their lovely perfume. There must be a hothouse.

“Oh, this
is heaven,” she said as she sank down on the huge four-poster bed in delight. It billowed beneath her with the feathers of what seemed like a thousand geese. It was doubtful that she would ever sleep in a more comfortable bed.

S
he changed into her simple cotton nightdress, blew out the lights, and climbed into the luxurious bed. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her mouth. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about the future. For tonight, she was too tired to care.

* * *

Joseph had informed Nico of Mrs. Blake’s return but he made no effort to greet her on arrival. He’d been regretting his decision to be a part of this foolish endeavor. Now, nearly an hour later, he was still distracted by the thought of her sleeping in a room in his house. He wondered what she wore to sleep in. She didn’t at all seem like a silk sort of girl. He smiled, imagining flannel or cotton. Something white and simple that would cling to her upturned breasts…

With a groan, he tried to push the image out of his mind. How on earth was he going to get anything done in the next few weeks, if he couldn’t concentrate for thoughts of her?

Deciding that it was hopeless, at least for tonight, he stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks of sitting for so long at a stretch, bent over microscopes. He wasn’t as young as he’d once been, that’s for certain.

With a frown, he wondered inanely how old Mrs. Blake was. Not terribly young, for she’d been married, but far younger than his own thirty-five years. Earlier, he’d been certain his attraction to her was returned, but he often grew melancholy at night, and as he made his way down to his bedroom, he wondered if she simply saw him as an old man. Someone to mentor her
and help her, but definitely not someone she’d consider having…

Having what? His thoughts trailed off as he paused in front of the door of the room where he’d instructed Joseph to place her, the one
down the hall from his own. He placed his hand on the door, wondering just what he’d gotten himself into, and what he really wanted from her.

She’d been through enough. He certainly didn’t intend to compromise her
while she was seeking his help. But if not, then why was that all he could think of?

With a groan, he pushed away from the door and continued to his room, though he knew it was pointless to expect that he’d get much sleep.

For the next two days, Samantha did not so much catch a glimpse of Lord Chattel. She found out from talking to his cook, Mrs. Lotte, that he had been working non-stop and taking meals in his laboratory.

If he didn’t plan to spend any more time with her than this, she couldn’t imagine why he’d invited her into his home. Her frustration grew with each passing day, but she didn’t know what to do about it.
She’d nearly gone out of her mind with boredom since she’d arrived. She wasn’t used to having absolutely nothing to do. She’d browsed his library, read a few books, and gone on a few rides with John, but she was desperate to do what she’d come here to do. If she didn’t learn how to play Chattel better, all the risk she’d taken would be for naught.

The contest was on December
fourth and it was already November tenth. Less than a month. Was it even possible to become a master of the game in so short a time? Not if he never played with her.

At last, on the third day, he came in late to dinner, looking unshaven, rumpled, and dirty, as though he had been out rolling in the garden.
All his former civilized trappings were gone, but she actually liked him better like this. 

His gaze caught hers as he took his place at the head of the long, cherry wood table, immediately to her right.
Joseph efficiently placed a plate down as soon as he was seated and then left the room.

He looked her up and down with his smoldering dark gaze. “Hello, Mrs. Blake. I see you’re out of your boy’s clothing and back to your widow’s weeds. Can’
t say they flatter you like those trousers did.”

“Hello, Lord Chattel,” she
said with a radiant smile. “I see you’re wearing dirt to dinner.”

He gave a surprised bark of laughter and nearly choked on his food. “
I’m sorry. Does it offend you?”

“Not if you stay over on your side of the table.”

“I often do not have time to change for dinner. That always seemed like an unnecessary custom to me in one’s own home.”

They dined on
a veritable feast of succulent ham, buttery potatoes, green beans with almonds and soft bread. It was much more food than she would normally eat and more delicious than anything she’d ever tasted.

Lord Chattel concentrated on his dinner and made no attempt to explain his appearance or engage in further conversation. He seemed distracted, obviously by a riddle with his work.

“You know, I’ve heard that when you are consumed with a problem you can’t solve, the best thing to do is walk away. Let your mind go somewhere else and it will return with the answer when it is well rested.” She gave him an innocent grin, hoping he’d take the bait. 

“Yes, I’ve heard that. It
is tough for me to walk away, so I stay, beating myself up for days, trying to come up with a solution.”

“It sounds like a perfect time for a game of Chattel to distract you,” she said
, when her obvious nudge didn’t seem to work.