Hellion at Heart: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 2 Page 4

  Hallie sat down at the little desk, and picking up a quill and parchment, set out to write a letter to her cousin and son. They would be eager to learn of her safe arrival and all the things she planned to do while here.

  The following day after breaking her fast, Hallie made her way out the servants’ exit to where two stable hands—strong, young men of similar age she deduced—were waiting for her near the stable doors.

  “Hello, I’m Miss Hallie Evans. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out a hand and shook both of theirs in turn.

  “I’m Greg and this is Bruce. A pleasure to be working with you, Miss Evans.”

  “Please, call me Hallie. We’re going to be spending so much time together, I think it only makes sense that we forgo formalities.”

  They doffed their hats. “Of course, Miss… I mean, Miss Hallie.”

  Hallie gestured for them to lead the way. “If you would be so kind as to show me the locale of where this Roman fort was on the land I would be most appreciative.”

  The men picked up their wheelbarrows full of shovels and buckets and her equipment she’d had sent here a week past and started heading west of the property. The walk was uphill and they had to travel through a small woodland that circled the base of the hill before opening up to a cleared area of land. It took them half an hour to reach the top of the small hill and Hallie paused a moment to enjoy the view the height afforded her over Somerset.

  From here she could see Baron Bankes’s estate nestled in the gully below, it’s glistening windows and sandstone walls standing out like a beacon about the green, lush lands. Slowly, Hallie turned, taking in the landscape of smaller hills, townships, rivers, and fields. A kaleidoscope of colors and one of the prettiest views to work by.

  As much as she had loved Egypt, the heat, sand and people, she had missed her homeland. The green, lush land that was prone to rain would’ve been welcomed every now and then abroad, certainly during a lengthy summer where the temperatures soared. Hallie hadn’t thought to miss it, the cold and damp, but at times she caught herself doing exactly that.

  With the stable hands’ help, she set up a small tent to the side of the hill, well away from where the supposed Roman remains would be excavated. The men chatted, telling her of the area, of what their families had once known to have stood here and what they thought the ruins had been used for. Within an hour everything was in place and ready for when they started their excavation the following day.

  “I’m going to be sketching here for the remainder of the day, so you may return to the estate if you wish.”

  Greg wiped his brow, leaning on a long hammer he’d been using to bang in posts that marked the trench that was to be dug out. “Are you sure, Miss Hallie? We should probably not leave you all alone out here.”

  Bruce nodded, twisting his cap in his hands. “Greg is right, miss. We should not leave you here alone.”

  Hallie waved their concerns away, having worked with minimal supervision in Egypt. She was well used to being alone and out on dig sites. Egypt was a lot more dangerous than England and she had nothing to fear here. “I’ll be fine and back at the estate for dinner. I have everything that I need here now and truly, I do not need to keep you from your work a moment longer,” she added, seeing that neither man looked at all comfortable with her staying out on the hillside alone. “Unless there is some threat to my person that I’m not aware of. Is that so?” she asked.

  Both men shook their heads, seemingly opposed to such an idea. “Of course not, Miss Hallie. We’ll leave you be to your work.”

  Hallie pulled out her well-used, leather-bound sketchbook from her bag. She walked about the area in question that Baron Bankes had mentioned in his letters and glanced over the small sketches he had supplied.

  There was a noticeable decline of the ground in certain areas that as a whole certainly looked like it could be where the outer building walls sat beneath the earth.

  She picked up her small chair and sat, sketching the site, every stone that lay in the area now untouched for hundreds of years or even since the time that the fort supposedly sat here. For hours she lost herself in the drawings, moving about and drawing from different angles and degrees. At last she looked down at the many pages she’d filled in her sketchbook, happy with her progress.

  A breeze blew across her skin and she glanced west, surprised to see the sun low on the horizon. She shivered at the evening air that started to settle over the land. Hallie stood, going into the tent and putting on her greatcoat, an article of clothing normally worn by men, but one she’d found indispensable when in England. After the years abroad in warmer climes, the damp, wet English weather was not something she was used to yet.

  Before she lost light, Hallie packed up everything that could stay out on the site, stowing it away in the tent as best she could before starting back toward the estate. Lights were lit along the gravelled drive and the house was ablaze also, so very different to how the estate looked in the daylight.

  She stopped just shy of where the woods ended and watched as carriages arrived before the double front doors, guests bundled out of the vehicles, their warn and wrinkled traveling apparel telling of their lengthy journeys.

  Maybe the baron had arrived earlier than planned. Hallie skirted the woods, making her way around the back of the house, not wanting to be seen in her current attire and also too tired to attend any dinner or entertainment his lordship had planned for his guests.

  Making the back servants’ entrance she opened the door, scrubbing her hessian boots on the outside mat before stepping inside and closing the door on the cold night that had descended quicker than she’d thought it would. She would have to ensure the next time she finished up at the dig site that she gave herself plenty of time to return to the estate. She would hate to get lost and stuck outside in a location that she wasn’t familiar with.

  Hallie pulled off her gloves and stifled a scream as a shadowy presence leaning up against the wall stood straight and stepped into the light. She felt her mouth gape and she closed it, swallowing her surprise. “Lord Duncannon.” Absently she remembered to curtsy and annoyingly she felt the heat of a blush rise on her cheeks.

  She had not expected to see his lordship here. He’d certainly not mentioned traveling to Somerset when she told him of her plans. Whenever they were thrown together due to their mutual friendship with the Duke and Duchess of Whitstone it was awkward and hardly tolerable at best, and this chance meeting was no different.

  “Miss Evans,” he said, bowing. “Baron Bankes invited me to his estate for his month-long house party. I see you’re already hard at work looking for historical artifacts.”

  His eyes took in her attire, his lips twitching when he noticed her breeches instead of a gown. His inspection of her prickled her pride and she raised her chin, well aware she was not the usual woman, certainly was not the type of lady that fluttered about in front of mirrors all day and cared for what was in the latest La Belle Assemblée. Women like those would suit Lord Duncannon and his esteemed family well.

  “As you see,” she said, moving past him and heading toward the servants’ stairs. “Should you not be with your friends instead of pointing out my shortfalls, my lord?”

  He ignored her question. “Are you not joining us this evening, Miss Evans?” he asked, turning but not following her.

  Hallie threw him a dismissing glance, one she hoped he understood. She didn’t want him following her coattails, nor did she particularly wish to be brought into the little upper-class party the baron was hosting. She may have a duchess as a best friend, but that was where her association with the ton started and ended. She was not part of that world and nor did she wish to be. If what had happened between them all those years ago proved men like his lordship were unworthy of her time, nothing would. “No, so if you’ll excuse me I must return to my room. Goodnight, my lord.”

  Arthur chided himself for taking in her clothing and taking pleasure at the sight she made in t
he buckskin breeches and hessian boots. Not to mention her delightful shirt and jacket that accentuated her sweet form. Miss Evans disappeared up the servants’ stairs and he rubbed a hand over his jaw. Just when he thought he was making progress with her, working toward being friends once again, he’d buggered it up by enjoying the sight of her instead of asking if her first day at the dig site was progressing well.

  Idiot.

  He inwardly groaned, the sight of her ass as it disappeared up the stairs embedded on his mind. A large whisky was what he needed and a cool bath. He shut his eyes a moment to gain some semblance of control. Always, whenever he was around her, the sensation that she was meant for him would not leave.

  His family would never agree, she was poor after all, a bluestocking to her very core he had no doubt, but damn it all to hell, she was smart. An asset worth more than breeding and money combined. Especially since he needed neither in a wife. Not really. His family may have always thought these two things were priceless but he did not. Not after meeting Miss Evans all those years ago.

  Now he wanted something entirely different.

  Her.

  He headed back into the drawing room, making his way over to Baron Bankes, his host for the month-long house party. One of the reasons why he’d accepted the invite was solely due to the fact that Hallie would be here. The baron had let it slip he’d hired her to excavate his Roman ruins and he could not come soon enough.

  The baron summoned a footman for more wine, clapping Arthur on his shoulder in welcome. “How are you enjoying my home, my friend? I do believe there are some very fetching and available women here this month. Ladies that I know your grandmother would approve of.” He chuckled. “We shall have a jolly time I’m sure.”

  Arthur smiled, taking in the room and finding little that tempted him. The one woman whom he’d never been able to get out of his mind was housed away upstairs and in no way tempted to join in with the activities downstairs.

  A footman handed him a glass of red wine and Arthur took a satisfying sip, enjoying the oak and earthy flavors that bombarded his mouth from the well-aged beverage. “I do not see your historian here this evening. Is she here?” he queried, not wanting the baron to know he’d already seen her and her quick dismissal over joining them this evening.

  The baron nodded, his cheeks ruddy from too much wine and the roaring fire behind him. Their host was a tall man, largely boned and with a jolly outlook on life. He was fond of the arts and history, which would explain why Miss Evans had been invited here to explore his ruins.

  “Oh yes, she arrived yesterday. I sent word upstairs for her to attend whenever she was able, but I will not force her.” Baron Bankes leaned in close. “Her father was a small gentleman farmer in Surrey, not a large landholder by any means, and I believe before he passed away they had lost their land and home due to debt and poor management. Miss Evans may not feel comfortable in our company, if you understand my meaning.”

  Arthur nodded, understanding only too well that she had to work for her living and in a line of business most unusual for a woman. “If you do not mind I would like to help her when I can out on the Roman dig site. As you know I’m the benefactor to the British Museum and historical finds are always most interesting to me.”

  “Oh yes, that tidbit quite slipped my mind. How are you finding the position?”

  In truth Angus had found the position uninspiring and with very little to attend to. To be the benefactor really only meant that when the museum required funds, he was obligated to open his purse. “Very satisfying,” he lied, taking a sip of wine to lessen the sting of him lying to his friend’s face. “Hence why I’m interested in Miss Evan’s work.”

  Bankes nodded. “I will tell you something, but it must remain between us. I find the whole idea of a woman doing such a manual-labor, intensive job abhorrent, but the chit is very determined and seemed rather desperate for work. I could not turn her down.” The baron laughed. “Let us not forget she’s close to the Duchess of Whitstone and I must admit, I was swayed quite easily by her pretty face. One never knows, with such a woman under my roof, we may become better acquainted by the end of her stay.” Bankes elbowed him and winked. “If you understand my meaning of course.”

  Arthur stared at him, unwilling to open his mouth lest he use it to shout expletives at the bastard for talking of Hallie in such a way. “She is a professional woman. I think your pretty words may be lost on her.” He said the words in the nicest way he could without betraying the anger that simmered in his veins over what the baron had said. It would help no one, not even Hallie, if he allowed himself to say what he really wanted—that being for the man to stay the hell away from her unless he wanted someone feeding him with a spoon for the rest of his life.

  “Bah, I think she would be willing. Hell, she spent years in Egypt without a chaperone. How virginal could she be?”

  Arthur choked on his wine. “With all due respect, I know Miss Evans through the Duke and Duchess of Whitstone whom, might I remind you, are very fond of her. I do not think your speaking of her in such a way is becoming of you, nor respectful to Miss Evans and I must ask you to stop.”

  Bankes’s eyes flew wide and his cheeks turned a deep, ruddy color. “I do apologize if I have offended you, Lord Duncannon. I never meant to be offensive. I was merely teasing, you understand.” His lordship smiled at another guest across the room. “If you would excuse me, I must attend my visitors.”

  Arthur watched him go, glad of the solitude for a moment. He needed to gain control of his temper, which had been awfully close to snapping at his lordship’s crude innuendo toward Miss Evans. The baron would need watching, and so too would Miss Evans. Under no circumstances, no matter what she thought of him in particular, would he allow her to come to harm or be made fun of simply because of what she did for employment, or because her family had fallen on hard times.

  He’d not stand for anything untoward or cruel.

  Chapter 5

  The following morning Hallie arrived on the dig site with five stable hands instead of the two like the day before. They waited for her on chairs they had carried up to the locale and stood when they spotted her arrival.

  “Miss Hallie, we’re ready to do whatever tasks that you bestow on us. The baron has given us his permission to work here for the day and so we’re just waiting for your instruction to start.”

  “Wonderful, thank you so much,” Hallie said, relief flowing through her that she had others up on site, and not two men, but five. It was pleasing that the baron found her employment here worth the men’s time away from their duties at the estate. To have them here to help with the digging—a labor-intensive job she’d never been fond of would give them great results and quicker than expected.

  “We will be digging a trench in the eastern corner of the site.” She walked the men over to the location she meant and pointed to the small decline in the ground. “Under here I believe are the outlying walls of the fort. If you look on the area from a distance and higher up, the sinking of the earth is more prevalent and obvious. We will dig across it. A good three meters on either side and three meters long. The soil is to be piled together and if I may use two of your men here,” she said, moving to where she wanted the excess dirt poured, “I’ll have them sift through this soil to look for anything of historical value that we may have missed.”

  Greg doffed his cap, excitement gleaming in his eyes. Hallie supposed for men who normally only worked with horses this would be a little adventure in their life. The possibility of finding an ancient artifact was in her estimation better than shoveling horse shit all day. “Very good, Miss Hallie. We’ll start on that right away.”

  Hallie went and put away her lunch and drink that cook had placed in a basket for her in the small tent. She pulled a smock she had made over her clothing to lessen the impact on her attire. Thankfully the men had not said anything about her trews and the leather, knee-high boots she wore along with a shirt and jacket. To take part
in such digs was not possible if one had to wear a gown and she refused to be hindered in any clothing suitable for her sex. Stepping from the tent, she pulled on her broad-brimmed hat and picked up a small trowel from her crate of tools and went over to where the men were digging.

  They worked all morning, only stopping for a bite to eat and drink around lunch. By the time late afternoon settled over the land the trench was a good ten inches deep and a few meters both wide and long. With the trench only on its first day Hallie could already see the old Roman foundations to the fort starting to emerge from their thousand-year grave.

  The men having finished for the day packed up their tools and offered to walk Hallie home. “I’ll be along shortly. I need to draw today’s findings and then I’ll return to the estate. Thank you though,” she said as they moved off down the hill, the mumble of their conversation fading along with the light.

  Hallie pulled out her sketchbook, sat on a nearby chair and started to sketch. She lost herself in her drawing for a while, making sure to catalogue where little objects were laying and what she supposed they may be.

  “I thought that I would walk you back to the estate, Miss Evans. A lady should not be out here alone.”

  Her hand stilled over the paper and she did not need to look up to see that it was Lord Duncannon. That he called her a lady made her teeth ache. She was no lady and in truth had never been. Certainly she never adhered to how a woman should go about society or anywhere for that matter. Her one night in his lordship’s bed and her son born out of wedlock was proof of that.