My Only Love (21 page)

However,
Olivia knew the very instant that Earl Warwick showed up at Braithwaite's front
door the following morning that that was exactly what Emily had done.

Olivia
received Warwick in the blue drawing room, glasses perched firmly on the bridge
of her nose, prepared to do battle. He had no more than leveled her with one of
those infamous Warwick glares when she blurted out:

"While
I can appreciate your sentiments, my lord, you must respect mine. Surely you
would not have me toss her out in the weather. She's homeless. She has no
money. And she's desperately ill. She is a dying old woman who can hardly be
faulted for loving a man who did not love her. And besides—" She took a
breath. "Braithwaite is my husband's home. As Miles's wife I must stand by
his decision to allow his mother to remain here."

Warwick
didn't so much as blink, but, like his brother, stood with his broad shoulders
erect and his dark eyes boring into hers.

"Very
impressive," he said at last. "Most admirable. I wonder why you
continue to defend him when, as I understand it, he left this house a fortnight
ago and hasn't been seen since."

"He
is my husband."

Warwick
crossed his arms over his chest. His features looked sinister. "I'm not
certain I have ever known a woman, or a man for that matter, who would so
sacrifice for the sake of family."

"I
hardly consider offering kindness to the sick and elderly a sacrifice."

"I
wasn't speaking of the sick or elderly. I was speaking of your family in
general."

Olivia
frowned. "You talk in riddles, sir."

"You
married my brother to satisfy your father's wishes. I wonder what lengths you
would go to to protect your sister?"

"What
has any of this got to do with Miles's mother?"

"Only
that you are stubbornly determined to protect your loved ones at all cost,
including your own good name and reputation." Relaxing, he glanced around
the freshly painted room before continuing. "While the idea of Alyson
Kemball residing in this house makes me ill, I confess that she is not my
primary concern. Madam, I've only come to suggest to you that you might find
your husband at Gunnerside."

"Gunnerside?"

"At
the mines. There's been an accident—"

"Oh!"
she cried almost soundlessly.

Earl
Warwick stepped forward and took hold of her arm. "It's my understanding
that Miles wasn't involved. But due to the rise of discontent with the workers,
he was sent for immediately."

"Sent
for?" Olivia frowned. "Do you know where Miles has been?"

He
moved a little closer, as if to offer further support. "He keeps a cottage
not far from Gunnerside. He's been known to go there on occasion . . . when
he's troubled or needs time alone."

"You're
familiar with this place? You know where it's located?"

"A
few miles out of Gunnerside. It was the house my wife grew up in, until her
father died. I should have informed you as to Miles's probable whereabouts as
soon as I heard he was missing. But I was occupied by the birth of my new son,
and besides, I couldn't be certain he was

there
... or who might be with him." "You're meaning a mistress."

He
shrugged and appeared somewhat chagrined. "As far as I know, Miles doesn't
have a mistress. He can't afford one. However—"

"You
thought it best not to take any unnecessary chances, my lord?"

"Something
like that."

"You
speak from experience, of course."

His
eyes met hers. A slow smile curled his lips. "I think it would behoove us
not to dredge up our pasts. Wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Warwick?"

Olivia
turned away.

"I
thought you should know about the mines," Earl Warwick said. "It
seems there's enough trouble to warrant my riding over to investigate. Your
husband is not well known for his ability to tactfully negotiate his way out of
such annoyances."

Olivia
nodded, but as Warwick turned to leave, she looked around. "I can be ready
in five minutes, my lord. Please don't try to dissuade me. You'll find that I'm
not easily discouraged. As you said yourself, I'm stubbornly determined to
protect my loved ones ... at all cost. Besides, if you refuse I'll simply go
alone."

"No
doubt."

Rewarding
him with a faint smile, Olivia moved toward the door.

Miles
strained his eyes to better see the walls of the old mines. Jake Delaney stood
at his right, Herbert Wallace at his left. Both men were shorter than Miles by
inches, but made two of him in girth. Their chests, arms, and shoulders
resembled the rock surrounding them, and were, no

doubt,
just as solid. Both had worked the mines since they were children.

Deeper
in the mines came the constant, jarring crack of picks on stone, and the
painful sounds of men groaning as they hefted rock into the low-sided carts
they used to remove the bouse from the mines. Jake removed a lantern from a
hook jutting from a timber overhead, and held it up before him, casting
elongated and grotesquely shaped shadows on the stone-strewed floor. Staring at
Miles with furious eyes, he planted one hand in the middle of Miles's back and
shoved. "After you, Mr. Warwick . .. sir."

Miles
moved forward cautiously.

"What's
wrong, Mr. Warwick?" Herbert asked in a surly voice that brought silt
filtering down. "You ain't afraid of nothin', are ya? Just because two men
was killed here yesterday in a cave-in don't mean it's gonna happen agin—it
were no doubt a freak accident, right? Ain't that what the captain said last
month when five workers escaped a collapse by the skin of their teeth?"

Staring
at the barrier of fallen rock, Miles shook his head. "I've shoveled enough
money into these pits the last year to insure its safety, Mr. Delaney." He
glanced around at his manager, or captain as the supervisor was called by the
miners, Bob McMillian, who stood like a stack of stone himself close by.
"What happened, Bob?"

The
hulk shrugged and rubbed his bearded face. "Can't rightly say until we've
excavated, sir. Seems the stopes just give out," he explained, referring
to the timber floors above the levels that held tons of partly wedged deads,
rocks with no ore.

"I
gave you explicit instructions three months ago to remedy that danger. So what
the blazes happened to the new timbers?"

"They
never come, sir."

"Never.
. ." Miles walked over to his manager. "Explain, Mr. McMillian."

McMillian
glanced about nervously and lowered his voice. "I was told, sir, that yer
credit was no good."

"But
they agreed in this case—"

'They
reconsidered, sir."

"Well
now, there ya have it," Jake said. "Seems all yer smooth talkin' and
pretty promises ain't gettin' any of us anywhere, Mr. Warwick. Sir."

"Sure
they are," Wallace joined in. "They are gettin' us dead."

Jake
twisted his hand into Miles's coat sleeve and yanked him around. "Dead and
starvin'," he sneered. "We've been listenin' to yer fancy pledges to
turn our pitiful circumstances around for the last two years. And where has it
got us? Soon we'll all be dead. Poor Billy— the best man in the mine. Ever'body
liked him, we did, and him only married a year. We were forced to bring him up
in a blanket."

"I'm
very sorry for the loss, and of course I'll compensate the family. But
rebuilding takes time, Mr. Delaney."

"And
how many men is goin' to die in the meantime?"

"What
would you have me do?" he shouted in frustration. "Shut her
down?"

Dirt
and stone rained from the ceiling, and the timbers groaned.

Jake
smirked. "I'll tell ya what you can do, gov'nor. You can sell her off to
Lubinsky."

"Lubinsky."
Miles laughed sharply. "You idiot. If I sell these mines to Lubinsky,
Gunnerside will die."

"Oh
yeah? How do you figure that?"

"How
long do you think you'll last working for a man who works his employees like animals?
Who refuses to employ any man beyond his prime? Three quarters of these workers
would lose their jobs before the ink dried on the contracts."

"My
heart's bleedin'," Wallace said. "As if we're suppose to believe
that the bloody Warwicks give a flyin' leap about us."

"Aye,
yer right on that count," Jake agreed, then stepped closer to Miles.
"Considerin' that our wives and children have been starvin' for years, I
imagine they'd embrace a change of management."

Miles
glanced at his manager, who remained oddly aloof, then he turned away from
Delaney and Wallace and exited the mine. Immediately, he was surrounded by two
dozen mine workers with soot grooved into their every feature.. Too much work
and too little food had left them looking like skeletons with muscles and
barrel chests, brought on by overdeveloped lungs that had struggled to breathe
what little oxygen existed deep in the earth's belly.

To
make matters worse, there were women and children. "Murderer!" they
shouted and shook their fists. "We're sick to our teeth with yer useless,
high-stockin' way of doin' business!"

Someone
flung sheep dung, another a stone, cutting the flesh over Miles's right
eyebrow. Suddenly the world turned a red blur as the mob surged forward,
engulfing him in a tide of driving fists and kicking feet that drove him to one
knee as he attempted to shield his face.

"Stop
it! Stop it!" the familiar voice shouted.

Then
a gun blasted and the shouting crowd fell silent.

Slowly,
a bit groggily, Miles stumbled to his feet and did his best to sleeve the blood
from his eyes. At the back of the crowd stood two figures on a tumbrel: a man
in a flowing cape carrying a rifle . .. and a woman— oh Christ—wearing a
fox-collared mantle with her hair pulled into a knot atop her head, and glasses
on her nose. She pointed a riding crop at the crowd as if it were a cannon.

"People!"
Olivia cried. "You resemble a pack of marauding hyenas."

"Who
the blazes is she?" someone grumbled.

Miles
groaned and briefly considered throwing himself at the mercy of the
bloodthirsty crowd.

Damien
jumped to the ground, then helped Olivia down. Chin up and eyes fixed straight
ahead, she marched into the crowd, raising her eyebrows at any man or woman who
thought to stand in her way. Finally reaching Miles, she stared at him.
"Perhaps you would care to introduce me to your associates."

He
gave her a cold smile in response.

"Very
well then." Turning on her heel, she said, "I am Mr. Warwick's
wife."

Silence,
then someone guffawed. Someone else whispered, "I know her. That's Lord
Devonshire's daughter. They call her old iron stays in Middleham."

The
crowd moved back, giving them more room.

Damien
swaggered up beside her, slapped his hand on Miles's shoulder and said, "I
see you're exhibiting your usual tact and charm, Kemball."

Miles
closed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I
suppose it doesn't matter to you that your wife and I just saved your
skin."

He
tenuously touched his split lip, throbbing jaw, and swollen eyelid. "Seems
you were a trifle bit late, Dame. Was that coincidence or intentional?"

"What
do you think?"

"I
think you probably encouraged them."

"You
know better than that. I'm not an overseer; I tend more toward participation. I
would've broken your jaw."

Olivia
gave them a hard glance over her shoulder. "I think, gentlemen, that this
is hardly the time and place for quipping." To Miles, she added, "I
daresay, sir, that it would behoove you to remove yourself from this rather
combustible situation lest they suddenly remember they are angrier at you than
they are bemused by me."

Damien
chuckled.

Miles
glared at him.

"Good
people," Olivia said loudly enough to be heard over the fresh rumblings of
discontent. "Murdering your employer is most undignified, I'm sure. And
what good would it do you?"

"Bring
me a great deal of satisfaction," a man shouted.

"Indeed
it might. .. until you suddenly discover yourself unemployed—or in the
gallows. How sweet will your revenge taste when your children are
starving?"

"Our
children are already starvin'!" a woman cried.

A
surge of approval reverberated through the crowd.

Turning
to Damien, Olivia said, "I think we should find a neutral ground, my lord.
I fear we're going nowhere until this situation is resolved."

The
neutral ground turned out to be the White Horse Ale House and Inn. After much
deliberation, the doors were closed to everyone except Delaney, Wallace,
McMillian, Damien, Miles, and Olivia. Lining two sides of a trestle table, they
all waited in silence as the proprietor of the tavern slammed steins of dark
ale on the table, then stood with his hands on his hips and his mouth turned
under as he regarded both Miles and Damien in displeasure. Damien returned his
look with an intensity that warned him to keep his opinion to himself. Miles,
however, regarded Olivia as she reached for her ale and turned it up to her
mouth, her gaze sliding to his over the rim of her stein.