From Waif to Gentleman's Wife by Julia Justiss

Author:Julia Justiss [Justiss, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, General, Man-Woman Relationships, Historical, Regency, Governesses, Honor
ISBN: 9780263887907
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

D read curdled in Ned’s gut, banishing all other worries. Though the mill walls were stone, in a wooden-beamed, thatch-roofed building whose floors under the looms would, by this time on a work day, be covered by a fine snow of cotton fluff, a fire could spread swiftly. If that were not bad enough, stored all around were spools of cotton thread, boxes of finished goods ready to be sent to market and the looms themselves, skeletons of wood bound in a spider’s web of warp and woof, all fuel to feed, fan and spread the flames.

‘Get the fire wagon from the village!’ Ned commanded the rider, who’d slowed rather than pulled up his horse.‘On my way, sir!’ the man replied and spurred his mount.

While the horseman galloped off, Ned turned to Davie and Mrs Merrill. Before he could utter a word, with a look she curtailed the instructions he’d been about to issue Davie to take her back to the safety of the manor. ‘Give me but a moment to fetch the medicine chest,’ she said as she hastened into the schoolhouse. ‘How glad I am now that I made one for the school, rather than relying on borrowing Mrs Winston’s from the manor!’

He was left with nothing to add but a superfluous ‘Hurry’ before heading over to ready the gig. An instant later, she returned with the wooden box and handed it to Davie while Ned helped her up, then jumped in beside her to spring the horse.

‘I know you were working to refurbish the mill,’ she said as they jolted down the road at a breakneck pace. ‘Were there any workers within?’

Grimly he pictured the eight looms on each floor—fully manned for the first time only this week. ‘If all the operators were at their stations, there might have been as many as sixteen.’ Those on the ground floor should have been able to exit quickly, but if the fire had been sudden, those on the first…

Images flamed through his mind, so horrific he decided to try again to spare her. ‘After years of farming, I’m a dab hand at tending the sick. I’d feel much better, Mrs Merrill, if you’d let Davie drop me off and drive you to the manor.’

‘And abandon the workmen in such a desperate moment?’ she asked. ‘Unthinkable!’ Hands gripping the rails to maintain her balance in the lurching gig, she threw him a sideways glance. ‘Mr Greaves, though I appreciate your concern, I’ve been a soldier’s wife in an often hostile land. I’ve witnessed—and treated—wounds I’d rather not describe and probably have more experience than you at dealing with the injured…fervently as I am praying that such skill will not be necessary.’

‘Amen,’ Davie muttered.

‘Very well,’ Ned capitulated, knowing she was correct, despite his desire to save her sensibilities. ‘I shall be very grateful for your help.’

After that brief exchange, they fell silent, all preoccupied, Ned assumed, by the same urgent questions that assailed him: Had all the workers got out?

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