Where The Heart Is (Choices of the Heart, book 1) (20 page)

“It’s easy for you to talk, Rainnie. You didn’t lose your livelihood in that fire.”

Martin grabbed the front of Drew’s shirt, spinning him around. “No, but I came within a hair’s breadth of losing my life. So did John and Ethan, but all you cared about was lining your pockets.”

Ben Thompson looked Drew up and down in disgust. “I daresay Martin’s right. You’re no better than Westlake. All you care about is yourself.” Ben turned his back on Drew and faced the rest of the room. “Lads, I think we need to have a talk with Mr. Westlake. Who’s comin’ with me?”

Martin released Drew with a push that bent him back over the bar and stalked out. Nobody commented. The other mill hands in the room gathered around Ben, shutting Drew out. He’d turned them against Westlake, but thanks to Martin, they’d turned against Drew at the same time. In one afternoon, he’d lost his family, his job, and what standing he’d had in the village. There’d be no turning back now.

Chapter Eighteen

Martin hurried from the pub to the forge. If he’d read the mood at the pub aright, he hadn’t any time to waste wheedling his way into a meeting with Phillip Westlake, but his daughter would probably see Chelle without hesitation if she said it was urgent.

If
Chelle would go to the Westlake place with him.

The thought of seeing her made Martin’s pulse race. Would he ever really get her out of his blood? In spite of his best efforts to prepare himself, he lost his breath when she opened the door.

Chelle’s hand tightened on the door jamb and her eyes darkened at the sight of him. “Martin, what are you doing here?”

“Just listen to me for a minute, lass. There’s going to be trouble at the Westlakes’, and I need you to go with me to warn them. I’ll waste too much time getting in the door if I go alone. I’ll explain on the way.”

He understood now why Chelle’s father was worried about her. She was a little thinner and paler than she’d been in the fall, but more than that, the remote expression on her sweet face frightened him. He’d seen her sad, he’d seen her angry, but he’d never seen her look like that.

“The Paxtons—”

“Bugger the Paxtons. Chelle, Miss Westlake and her father could be in danger. Will you come with me or not?”

She lowered her gaze. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

They took the path by the river to avoid being seen in the village. Martin suspected it would take half an hour or so for the crowd at the Crow to work themselves up to forming a mob. It would take nearly twenty minutes to reach the Westlake place. As they hurried along, Martin told Chelle what he’d seen and heard at the pub. “Drew never did have much good sense, for all his cleverness. He thought folk would hail him as a hero instead of tarring him with the same brush as Westlake.”

Chelle shivered. “There’s something in Drew that frightens me. He’s more than just a fool and a boor. He’s got real meanness in him. Kendra felt the same.”

They hurried on with no breath to spare for talk. When they reached the house, Louden answered the door and gave Martin a doubtful look. “Is Mr. Westlake expecting you?”

Chelle answered. “I’ve come to see Miss Westlake. It’s urgent and important. She and her father may be in danger. Is she home?”

“Yes, miss. You and Mr. Rainnie may wait here.”

They settled in two of the armchairs in the hall. Martin felt as if his might break under his weight. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced around him. Seeing the inside of this place would do nothing to ease the anger of Mr. Westlake’s employees if they showed up here. “I’ve never seen the like of this. Have you?”

Chelle gave him a half smile, the first real response he’d seen from her today. “Yes. When my brother was a small boy, he made friends with the son of the largest planter in our county. As we got older, his friend drew Trey and me into his social circle. That’s how I met Rory. His home wasn’t all that different from this.”

Martin didn’t answer. How could he ever have thought Chelle might consider making a life with him when she might have had a home like this? She might be a plain farmer’s daughter as Colin said, but she had the grace and courage to hold her own anywhere.

His bleak thoughts scattered when Maria Westlake came down the staircase at the end of the hall. A pretty lass, it couldn’t be denied, but to Martin’s eyes, Chelle looked just as much the lady.

“Rochelle, Mr. Rainnie, Louden said something about Father and me being in danger. What’s this about?”

Chelle glanced at Martin, then drew a deep breath. “Maria, there’s been some unpleasantness in the village today. Word is being spread that your father started the fire at the mill, and people are upset. Mr. Rainnie told me. We both thought you should know, so I came with him to tell you.”

One look at Miss Westlake’s face convinced Martin she knew the truth. He couldn’t help pitying her, but there wasn’t time to consider her feelings. “Miss Westlake, we need to speak to your father. Now. The two of you would be wise to leave Mallonby as quickly as possible.”

Without a word, Maria turned and disappeared up the stairs. She came back with her father behind her, shrugging into his suit jacket. Martin took a grim satisfaction from the fear he saw under Westlake’s flimsy mask of annoyance.

“Mr. Rainnie, I’m glad of the chance to thank you personally as I have publicly.”

“I don’t want your thanks, just your attention. I was in the pub this afternoon, and Drew Markham came in. I’ll warrant you’ve seen more than enough of him lately. He convinced the crowd that you set the fire at the mill yourself. They were in an ugly mood, and I thought you should know.”

“Again, I owe you—”

Martin cut him off. He was in no mood for civility. “You owe me naught. I know Drew told the truth. You don’t give a tinker’s damn about the people here and never have. Personally, I’d enjoy seeing them deal with you, but you aren’t worth going to prison for. I’m only here because your daughter doesn’t deserve to pay for what you’ve done. Get her packed and off to London, and if you have any sense, go with her. I wouldn’t see folk here suffer any more on your account.”

Mr. Westlake flushed. “I’ll prosecute anyone who threatens my daughter or me. That troublemaker Markham is simply spreading rumors.”

“Then why did you pay him off?”

The color drained from Westlake’s face as quickly as it had spread.

Martin chuckled, a dry bitter sound that didn’t relieve the anger pressing on him. “Don’t bother lying. You aren’t good at it. Just pack and get out of here. There’s no evidence to charge you, but you’ll pay regardless.” He glanced at Maria’s stricken face. “Every day, for the rest of your life, I’ll warrant.”

Westlake’s shoulders slumped. “Maria, tell Louden to see to my packing and send for the carriage. As quickly as possible. Then get Susan to pack for you.” He turned to Chelle. “You’ve been a friend to Maria. Thank you for that. Now you and Mr. Rainnie had better go.”

Martin answered. “No. We’ll stay for a while. If that lot from the pub comes out here, I want to be here to meet them.”

Maria’s face was pale with humiliation. “Rochelle, I’m sorry.”

Chelle shook her head. “None of this is your fault, Maria. I wish you all the best in your marriage.”

Mr. Westlake didn’t protest Martin’s plan to stay. In a few minutes, Maria and her father were ready to leave. Martin and Chelle stood beside Louden, watching the carriage roll down the drive.

“I never guessed,” Louden said. “As true as you live, I never had an idea. I can’t think why. I’ve worked for him for ten years.”

Martin shrugged. “Some folk you can never really get to know. Let’s get in out of the cold and wait. I don’t expect it’ll be too long.”

They kept watch from the hall windows. Within fifteen minutes, a group of men appeared on the road. Martin shrugged into his coat. “Louden, it’ll be best if you stay here with Miss Rochelle. The sight of you won’t calm them any.”

Louden nodded. Martin shot Chelle a stern look when she threw her cloak over her shoulders. “You stay here, lass.”

“No. Don’t bother arguing with me, Martin. There isn’t time. They’ll be less likely to forget themselves in front of a woman. Let’s go.”

Short of getting Louden to restrain her, there was nothing Martin could do. He stalked out the door with Chelle at his heels. They met the group of nineteen or twenty mill hands at the end of the drive.

Ben Thompson, the man who’d spoken at the pub, faced them with his feet planted in the snow, fists clenched.

Martin held his gaze. “Go home, Ben. You’ve come out here for nothing. Westlake and his daughter are gone. They’re in their carriage, and they’ve got a head start on you.”

“You warned them!”

“Aye, I did. Westlake’s caused enough misery here already. I wouldn’t see him be the cause of more.”

“Damn you, Martin, he’s got it comin’!”

“True enough, but at what price? Do you want to go to prison or hang because of him?”

“That’s fine for you to say. You’ve got your farm. He hasn’t harmed…” Ben’s voice trailed off.

Martin nodded. “I’m scarred for life on his account, and I still say he’s not worth it. Now that the truth’s out, Westlake will likely sell the mill quickly. I have a feeling Miss Westlake will still want to help folk here in the meantime.”

“She will,” Chelle put in. “Her father doesn’t deserve any sympathy from you, but she does. Any harm you do here tonight will hurt her as much as Mr. Westlake.”

Ben flashed Chelle a scornful look.

Maggie Tate’s father stepped up beside him. “It’s easy for you to talk forgiveness. My daughter died of the hurt she got in that sod’s mill. Why should his daughter get away scot-free?”

Martin shook his head. “You’ve never seen the day you’d harm a lass, Ephraim, and you know it. And if you did, is that what Maggie would want?”

The mood of the crowd was changing. Martin looked at each man in turn as he spoke. “I’m the last person to blame you for being angry. I’d like to give Phillip Westlake a taste of my fists as much as you would, but that won’t bring your jobs back. I think that when Westlake’s business associates in London find out about this, he’ll suffer enough. Now, I’d prefer the fireside at the Crow to standing out here in the cold. If anyone cares to join me after I see Miss McShannon home, I’ll buy a round.”

Ben glanced at the Westlakes’ home, then turned away with a shrug. “We’ll do naught but hurt ourselves here, Martin. You’re right about that. I’m going home. Maybe I’ll see you at the Crow later.”

In twos and threes, the mill hands turned back toward the village, leaving Martin and Chelle standing in the snow, surrounded by an awkward silence. Chelle’s eyes were downcast, her hands wrapped in her cloak, her shoulders tense. Martin lifted a hand to take her arm, then halted the motion halfway. “Come, lass, let’s get you home.”

After telling Louden the danger was past, they set out. Twilight had faded to a clear, moonlit winter night.

Chelle fell into step with Martin as they started down the road. “What do you think will happen now?”

“I suppose Mr. Westlake will spend a few days in London, waiting to see what happens here. Ben and the others will probably get around to asking for some legal advice. They might sue Westlake for compensation. I expect the magistrate will give them some help.”

“But there’s no evidence. It’s only Drew’s word against Mr. Westlake’s.”

“Aye, but everyone in Mallonby knows the truth. Westlake won’t come back here permanently, I’ll warrant.”

“I wonder what Maria’s fiancé will think of this.”

“Who knows? Depends on whether or not he really cares for her.” Martin turned and looked at Chelle’s face in the cold moonlight. She was too young, too bright and vital to look like that, so sad and defiant at the same time. Words tumbled out before he could check them. “Like I care for you. Chelle, I can’t tell you how much it hurts me to see you so unhappy.”

Chelle met his gaze, her eyes wide and dark. She started to step back, but Martin had reached the limits of his self-control. He gripped her arms through her cloak to hold her still. A shiver ran through her and into him.

“Martin, please don’t do this.”

“Chelle, the Paxtons can go hang. This isn’t about them. It’s about you and me. Looking at you now, I think you lied to me the day you made that bloody fool agreement, and I was just as big a fool to believe you. I think you care for me as much as I do for you.”

Color flamed in her cheeks, and Martin knew he was right. Chelle spoke in a choked whisper. “I told you I cared for you, Martin. I cared for Rory, too, but it wasn’t enough. Now he’s gone. You and Leah deserve someone who can give you more than I can.”

Temper flaring, Martin gave her a sharp shake. “Chelle, I don’t know what you’re afraid of. It isn’t the Paxtons, that’s for sure and certain. I would have told them to do their worst if you’d given me the chance. Tell me.”

Chelle jerked herself free. “Martin, I was completely honest with you that day at the jail. If you can’t accept that, I don’t know what else to say. Now, please, for Leah’s sake, leave me alone.”

She ran from him, disappearing from view along the riverside path. Bloody hell. All he’d managed to do was make a fool of himself.

You’ve lost her for good and all this time, lad. When will you learn to let well enough alone?