Winning the War Hero's Heart. Mary Nichols
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to her. He had found nothing suitable and had been considering buying Ravensbrook Manor, which stood just outside the perimeter of Ravens Park. It had been empty and derelict for years, but it was possible to see it had once been a substantial house. As a child, he had often crept through a broken window and played in it, his footsteps and laughter echoing as he ran from room to room, brandishing a wooden sword and pretending to capture it from an imaginary enemy. It would take time and money to restore it, but it was in an ideal position and so he had set about tracing its owner in order to make an offer. He said nothing to anyone of his plans and in the meantime continued to live at Ravens Park and tried not to be contentious for his mother’s sake, even if it did mean turning his back on an argument.
He went to the stables and found Jack Byers there talking to the head groom. Seeing Miles, Jack turned to touch his forelock. ‘I’ve done what you said, my lord. I’ve repaired the hedge and the hen coop, and some of the cabbages will survive, but there’s no rescuing the peas and beans.’
Miles delved in his pocket for coins to pay the man. ‘Your wages as promised and a little extra to buy half-a-dozen laying hens and new pea and bean seeds for Mrs Watson. There is time to replant, is there not?’
‘If I get them in this week they should grow, always supposing the weather improves.’
‘Have you found more permanent work yet?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ He pocketed the money and took his leave. Miles ordered his horse to be saddled and set off for Warburton.
He found the offices of the Warburton Record easily enough, dismounted and went inside. A young man looked up as he entered and scrambled to his feet. ‘My lord …’
‘I wish to speak to Miss Wayland. I believe she is the proprietor.’
‘Yes, she is. I’ll fetch her.’ He scuttled away.
Two minutes later he was surprised to find himself confronted by Miss Grey Gown herself. This time she was wearing a brown taffeta afternoon dress with a cream-lace fichu. Her rich chestnut hair was cut unusually short and fell about her face in soft curls. Her hazel eyes looked into his fearlessly. He smiled and bowed. ‘Miss Wayland?’
She bent her head in the polite gesture she would have used to any slight acquaintance. ‘My lord.’
He smiled. ‘Miss Wayland, you have upset my father, the Earl …’
‘Good.’
‘Not good. He is determined to teach you a lesson and is sending for his lawyer to issue a writ for defamation of character.’
If she was upset by this she did not show it. ‘Then you may tell the Earl I shall defend it. I wrote nothing but the unbiased truth.’
‘Truth is not considered a defence, you know.’
‘Then it ought to be.’
‘Can you afford a court case and a heavy fine?’
‘I shall win.’
‘Better to retract. You heard me apologise to Mrs Watson and I asked Jack Byers to mend Mrs Watson’s garden, which, if you had taken the trouble to discover, you would have known. That rather defeats your argument, don’t you think?’
She had felt guilty about not mentioning that in her report, but she was not going to admit it. ‘It is not relevant to the point I was making, that it was for the Earl to recognise his responsibility, not his son.’
‘I represent my father.’
‘I find it hard to believe the Earl sent you to plead with me.’ She chuckled suddenly and the hazel eyes were suddenly full of humour, which changed her whole countenance. He realised with a start that she was beautiful and found himself smiling back. ‘It would be entirely out of character.’
‘He did not send me, but that is neither here nor there. Mrs Watson was recompensed.’
‘That you did it is to your credit, my lord, but it does not invalidate my argument. The Earl should be the one to make restitution and he should learn that even the humblest widow is a person deserving of respect. But I fear he is too set in his ways for that ever to come about.’
Miles was inclined to agree, but it would be disloyal to his father to say so and in his opinion family disagreements should be kept within the family. ‘Nevertheless, restitution was made and it gives you the opportunity to reciprocate,’ he said. ‘Publish the true facts in your newspaper and the whole matter will be dropped.’
‘Do you speak on behalf of the Earl?’
He hesitated and in that hesitation she had her answer. ‘No, of course you do not. I wonder why you came.’
‘To save you from your own folly,’
‘Is it folly to stand up for the poor and oppressed? Is it folly to point out injustice when I see it?’
‘No, I admire that, but if it leads to your own downfall …’
‘Why are you concerned for my downfall? I should have thought you would rejoice at it.’
‘I do not rejoice at anyone’s downfall, Miss Wayland,’ he said, smiling to soften the fierce look she was giving him. ‘I suppose I like to think I am a just and fair person and you are—’
‘A woman!’ she finished for him. ‘And not equipped to deal in a man’s world, is that what you were about to say?’
‘There is some truth in that.’
‘Then I shall have to prove you wrong, my lord.’
‘So you will retract?’
‘There is nothing to gainsay. What I wrote was the truth. And I shall continue to write the truth, however uncomfortable it makes people feel.’
‘Making someone feel uncomfortable is only the half of it,’ he said. ‘There is the consequence to consider.’
‘A change of heart, perhaps?’
He did not think that would happen. ‘I meant an appearance in a court of law.’
‘I shall welcome the opportunity to have my say.’
‘I would not advise it. You might make matters a hundred times worse.’
‘Thank goodness I am not required to take your advice,’ she retorted.
He smiled and changed tack. ‘I believe your father and mine were often at loggerheads, Miss Wayland. Do you have to continue the feud, for feud I believe it was, though I have no idea how it started? It would be a pity to perpetuate it.’
‘It was not a feud, it was simply that my father published the truth as he saw it and that did not please the Earl who saw, and still sees, his position as unassailable. But I think it should be challenged.’
She had spirit, he would give her that, but did she really understand the implications of taking up swords against his father? ‘And you are determined to carry on where your father left off without even knowing why.’
‘I do know why. I have just told you: justice and fairness for those who cannot stand up for themselves.’
‘And who is to stand up for you?’
‘I can look after myself, my lord.’
This was sheer bravado. He could see the doubt in her expressive greeny-brown eyes. Beautiful eyes, he decided, bright and honest-looking. He doubted she could lie convincingly. ‘Then, as I cannot budge you, I will take my leave.’ He bowed, turned on his heel and was gone.
She watched him stop outside and look at the large sash window in which she had stuck the pages of the latest edition of the paper. Poor people could not afford newspapers.