All About Seduction(16)

Mr. Broadhurst stared at his wife. Jack wanted to tell her to do as her husband said. Didn’t she know that he shouldn’t be challenged? Her husband was not a good man, although he wasn’t going to be the one to speak out against him. Not as long as his family needed their jobs at the mill. He didn’t want Mr. Broadhurst noticing him, not in this way.

“It was my fault,” said Jack. “I tripped.”

Mrs. Broadhurst swiveled back toward him. Color stained her cheeks. “On a spindle dropped by a child too young to work in the mill. I have said again and again that these babes only cause accidents. She should have been in school.”

Mattie had only dropped the spindles because he’d shoved her out of the way of the whipping belt, but it seemed a moot point. Jack pressed his lips together.

“You shouldn’t have brought him here,” growled Mr. Broadhurst.

The man was obviously not happy with the turn of events, but something Mrs. Broadhurst said had her husband struggling to contain his ire. It only made Jack’s spine tighten. Mr. Broadhurst got rid of people who stood in his way, and Jack didn’t want to be one of them.

“He needs surgery and doing it here is expedient,” Mrs. Broadhurst said in a mildly reproving tone.

Bloody hell, he didn’t want to be a bone they fought over. And he sure as hell didn’t want surgery.

“He can’t be here while we have guests,” said Mr. Broadhurst.

“I’ll leave.” Jack tried to swing his legs to the side of the table. Waves of dizziness washed over him, spinning his head.

The surgeon shook his head as he pressed Jack back. “You’ll lay still so I can look at your wounds.”

“We can breakfast in the dining room,” Mrs. Broadhurst said. “He won’t be a bother if he recuperates here. Besides, there will be too many people to have only this small room available in the morning.” Her voice was breezily dismissive.

Jack choked. This small room was bigger than all of the ground floor in his father’s house.

Mr. Broadhurst’s bushy gray eyebrows lowered over his beady eyes. More then ever Jack wanted out of here before he incurred the man’s wrath. He didn’t want to be like the union organizer a few years back. The man had disappeared one night, and no one was sure if he was just strongly encouraged to move on to greener pastures or if he’d been buried beneath one. Either way, Mr. Broadhurst was behind whatever happened, and no one dared talk of unions now.

“You cannot as a gentleman expel him when a young child working in the mill was the cause of his accident. You bear some responsibility for this tragedy,” Mrs. Broadhurst said softly. “Besides, I will not entertain your guests in any way if you do not allow the boy to stay.”

Jack wanted to object to being called a boy. He was likely of an age similar to Mrs. Broadhurst, but it hardly seemed important. And in this instance he agreed with Mr. Broadhurst. Leaving was far and away the best choice.

His beady eyes burning with impotent rage, Mr. Broadhurst turned toward Jack. The ireful look beat a path through him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I’ll go home as soon as I am able.” Home was his father’s house. In spite of the fight this morning and Martha’s reaction to his injury, he wanted to go there. She would calm down in time and his siblings could see to his care. Under no circumstances did he want that sawbones operating.

Nor could he miss the appointment in London.

What made him think he could get free of this miserable life? It seemed his every opportunity was thwarted, but he had savings. He could hire a cart to Manchester, take the train to London. He could still take his drawings to the appointment.

Broadhurst was staring at his wife intently. “You’ll entertain them now, will you?” he growled.

All the color drained from Mrs. Broadhurst’s face. Her hand tightened painfully on Jack’s arm. “I will welcome them as any lady would. I should like your agreement that no child under the age of nine is allowed to work in the mill.”

There was a tension between them as if a deeper negotiation was under way. Jack didn’t understand. He didn’t know if he cared. Whatever they were discussing wasn’t about him. Strange, he’d thought Mrs. Broadhurst was always looking his way because she’d recognized the potential in him, but she seemed more interested in using his accident to implement changes. Maybe Martha had it right, and he wasn’t any different than the rest of them.

Except now he was different.