All About Seduction(123)

Jack shifted his gaze and caught Mr. Broadhurst staring at him.

“Sir,” Jack acknowledged. He splayed his fingers to keep from fisting them. He hadn’t given the man any reason to sack him, but he didn’t trust Broadhurst. And he sure as hell hoped the man hadn’t heard him making arrangements to signal Caroline when he was alone.

Caroline felt as if she had been waiting forever to see the light in the apothecary shop window. She looked each evening a dozen times, and it was dark again tonight. She almost was sure she’d missed it, but each morning Jack shook his head before she could find the privacy to ask him.

She sighed and went back down to the drawing room.

Mr. Broadhurst put down his newspaper. “Does not appear to be any signs of war in the States. We are going to be inundated with cotton.”

Caroline swallowed hard. She believed she’d made the right choice. “Better too much cotton than having to shut down the mill for lack of it.”

Mr. Broadhurst harrumphed.

“It was a gamble either way, sir.”

“What are we supposed to do with it? Let it rot?”

“The moors behind the mill could be used for a warehouse. Many of the men from the mill would eagerly take construction jobs. More women could be brought in to work in the mill, and the warehouse could be converted to dormitories for them. But then I don’t know what we’ll do with the men.”

“You have no business sense at all,” said Mr. Broadhurst.

Her mouth tightened. “I do not see how war will be avoided with several states saying they will not be part of the United States.”

“Fools,” muttered Mr. Broadhurst.

Caroline stood. “I believe I shall retire. I am weary.”

Mr. Broadhurst watched her as she crossed the drawing room. Perhaps her decision had been bad, and now they would have to spend more money to rectify it. Perhaps she didn’t possess enough business acumen to run the mill. Profits were down, costs were up. If all the cotton she’d agreed to buy arrived, they’d be losing money instead of making it.

“I have notified my solicitor that you are expecting.”

She stopped and turned. Her heart thumped oddly. Had he claimed parenthood or disavowed responsibility? Who notified their solicitor of a pregnancy?

As if the world had closed in on her, she no longer wanted to be the mouse in this cat and mouse game. She had done what he asked. She had poured her soul into learning the mill, and tried her hardest to make the best decisions for all involved. Still, it might all be snatched away from her at any time.

“I trust you told him how pleased you were.” With that she left the room, not looking back to see his response. She simply didn’t care what he’d told his solicitor.

After getting into her nightgown, she took one last peek out the front window and saw it, a flicker in the window below the mortar and pestle signboard. Not that she could actually make out the signage, but she’d looked so often out the window, her eyes made a beeline to the apothecary shop.

Her heart hammered and her fingers were clumsy as she threw on clothes, slipped her feet into demi boots, and grabbed a hooded cloak. She locked her bedroom door and flew down the corridor to the servants’ stairs, tiptoed down, and went out a side door. Forcing her feet to walk and not run took every ounce of willpower she had. She didn’t want to draw attention. No one could know she was seeing Jack.

Her heart was in her throat she scurried down the street. What if he didn’t want to be with her?

When she reached the midwife’s house she hesitated. She shouldn’t be here.

The door opened and Jack stood there. Her breath stole away. He clamped a hand around her wrist, drew her inside and behind him. Leaning out, he looked left and right, then shut the door.

“Did anyone see me?” she asked.

“Not that I can tell. Go in the back, while I get the lamp.” He gave her a slight push toward the open door at the back of the small space.

Aware of the bare windows, Caroline followed Jack’s command.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she took in the stacked crates, a small stove in the corner, and a narrow iron bedstead against the far wall.

Could she live as simply and as starkly as this? As long as she stayed with Mr. Broadhurst, she could have anything that money could buy, but she was miserable. She didn’t know if she could wait for him to die—and it was a horrible thing to wish for. Every time the thought entered her head, she feared God would smite her down with a lightning bolt.