All About Seduction(59)

He couldn’t even be aggravated at her lack of confidence in him. Truth was, he didn’t know if he would have the ability to go up the risers or if there was a better way about it. “I don’t want to hurt you if I fall.”

“I won’t let you fall,” she said with such grim determination he believed her.

He went up the first stair. Her hands brushed his sides, but she let the effort be entirely his.

“How many people are in your family? Beth wasn’t entirely certain. She started naming names and I lost count at eighteen.”

“My father has sixteen children and one on the way,” said Jack, taking another step.

“Is that typical for families in the village?”

“Having so many children, yes.” He went up another riser. Ascending was not as tough as he feared. But without needing to concentrate on going up the stairs, he was even more aware of her hands brushing against his waist. “Most would say we have been lucky to only lose two children and my mother.”

She sighed.

He looked over his shoulder.

Her eyes looked flat. “It seems to me that education is the only way to give those of the village hope to rise above their circumstances, but not only does Mr. Broadhurst fight me, you and the other villagers do as well. I want to understand. I want to help, but as long as Mr. Broadhurst is in charge there is only so much I can do.”

Jack watched her face until she looked sideways up at him. Her blue gaze through the lace of her lashes hit him like a punch to the stomach. He sucked in a deep breath. “I know you do. I wish I was young enough to benefit from the schooling.”

Her hands were still against him, touching his back and stomach, since he’d twisted. She stood a stair below, but she might as well be standing pressed against him, for what he felt. She cocked her head and studied him intently.

He had to stop thinking of her and that her husband might not be around much longer, as if she’d allow a millworker to comfort her when she was a widow.

“Did you not have schooling?”

“My mother taught me.” Until he’d been too tired from working to even pay attention to the lessons. Now was a perfect time to tell her he was inadequate to be a clerk. But he couldn’t force the words out. Instead he asked, “What will happen when Mr. Broadhurst is no longer in charge?”

Her chin and shoulders dropped, and she looked down at the marble of the entry hall. “It depends.”

“On what?”

Her lips curled up, but the smile didn’t touch her eyes. It might have been the saddest smile he’d ever witnessed, and it tugged at him. He would have reached out and touched her, cupped her arm, or pulled her into an embrace, but the crutches stopped him, which was a good thing.

“Should you like to continue up the stairs or shall we see about getting you down?” Her briskness returned as if the window she’d opened to her soul was best forgotten.

“Up.” He could hardly fault her for keeping secrets when he wouldn’t share his own. He twisted and swung up another stair.

After a couple of stairs she said, “Mr. Broadhurst does not like the idea of a woman being in charge. He believes we are too softhearted and too likely to make business decisions with our emotions.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew of no woman running so large an operation as the mill, but his knowledge was limited to Lancashire. There were women who seemed to run their own affairs well enough. Everyone knew the greengrocer’s wife was the one who managed the store, and the midwife handled not only births but served as an apothecary.

“Perhaps he is right,” she said on a sigh.

“Women are as capable of running a business as men are, but they do tend to get distracted by having children.” Neither the midwife nor the grocer’s wife had children, and perhaps that was what made it easy.

Mrs. Broadhurst made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.

Hell, it was a thoughtless thing to say. Most women wanted children. She was probably no different.

He swiveled and pitched toward his weighty cast.

Her arms circled his waist and she pulled him to her as he strained to find his balance.

As he regained his equilibrium, his harsh breathing echoed in the stillness of the night. The warmth of her body burned against his, and he wanted to stay pressed against her forever. Holding the crutches was the only thing that stopped him from wrapping his arms around her.

She stared up at him. Her lips parted, her chest rose and fell. She felt the pull between them too. He knew it just as sure as his name was John Applegate.