Turning to the tall facade of Huntington House, Derek lifted his head and gazed up at the roof. From down on the ground, it looked perfectly fine. If only that were true.
Two nights ago, a hard rain had come down, granting Derek a true idea of the damage to the roof. On the western side of the building, most rooms had been almost flooded, the holes there of such a size to allow torrents of rainwater inside. After moving his family to the eastern side, Derek had told them to divide the house in the middle. While they would continue to inhabit the half situated over the kitchen, the other would be closed off to avoid accidents should the roof eventually cave in. He could only hope he would be able to fix or?if necessary?replace parts of the roof before that happened.
However, as Derek understood he could not do everything at once, he would start on the eastern side of the building and hope that the roof would last for as long as he needed to work its way over to the west.
As there was nothing left to do, Derek decided to survey the situation from above. Retrieving the ladder, he had found in the remaining barn?partly used as a storage shed?he made his way up.
“Do you really think you should go up there?” Kara asked from below, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed up at him. “What if you break through?”
Derek shrugged as he carefully swung himself onto the overhanging part of the roof. “I don’t have a choice, Kara. I cannot make the repairs from down on the ground, now can I?”
“Wiseacre,” his sister grumbled as she stepped away and returned to the house.
Slightly crouched forward, Derek set one foot in front of the other, careful to test the roof before putting his full weight on it. Keeping his balance on the steep roof was quite an undertaking as his gaze swept over the slates laid carefully to keep out the elements. While the eastern half of the roof looked fine?spotting the leaking areas would not be easy?the western half even had parts of the rafters exposed where the slates had broken off. Derek could only hope he would get most of it fixed before winter.
As he stood, his gaze sweeping over the large roof, Derek caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he squinted his eyes and saw a carriage approaching from the south. Wondering who on earth would pay them a visit, Derek found the breath catch in his throat when he could finally make out the coat-of-arms painted on the carriage’s side door.
The Earl of Carlton.
Madeline’s father.
His wife.
“What is she doing here?” he mumbled to himself as he leaned forward, almost losing his footing. Catching his balance at the last moment, Derek drew in a steadying breath, cursing himself for such immature behaviour.
Why would she come? He kept wondering as he slowly made his way back to the ladder. Never would he have thought she would take him up on his offer to stay at Huntington House. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that possible. Then why? What had happened? Had she gone to Townsend and…?
Gritting his teeth at the mere thought of his wife with that man, Derek found his heart racing as the carriage drew to a halt by the front stoop. The coachman jumped down and, after lowering the step, reached to open the door.
With his gaze fixed on the small opening, Derek held his breath as he waited for his first glimpse of her.
And then she stepped out, and Derek’s world began to spin.
Impeccably dressed in one of the finest gowns he had ever seen, his wife set a careful foot onto the ground. The late afternoon sun gently touched her ebony hair and porcelain skin, giving her a warm glow as though a light was shining from within. Her green eyes, however, were narrowed and her nose scrunched up as she surveyed Huntington House.
Derek’s heart sank as he knew very well what she saw.
Not a house to be turned into a home.
Not a challenge to be met head-on and turned into a triumph.
Not a future for a family that deserved better.
No, she would only see the crumbling bricks and rotting wood, the broken windows and wild-growing weeds.
She would see a house not worthy of her.
Just like when she looked at him. All she saw was a husband not worthy of her.
As he was about to address her, the front door opened, and Kara stepped outside. Her face held surprise as she surveyed the lady before her. “Good day, my lady. What brings you to Huntington House?”
Flustered, Madeline glanced around, her brows furrowed. “This has to be some mistake,” she gasped, craning her neck as though hoping to see a fine house hiding behind the bedraggled one right in front of her. “This has to be a mistake.”
“I admit,” Derek spoke from the roof, “I’m rather surprised to see you…dear wife.”
As Madeline’s head turned upward, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks losing all colour, Kara’s face split into a joyous smile. “Wife?” she stammered, glancing up at him before almost lunging herself at Madeline. “Welcome!” she exclaimed, pulling Derek’s startled wife into a hug. “We’ve all been dying to meet you. How wonderful of you to come!”
Climbing down, Derek could almost feel his wife’s gaze on him as he once more found himself wondering about her motivation to come. A part of him felt reluctant to meet her gaze and see her judgement of him, of his life and his family, and yet, he could not. He was not one to cower, to avoid what he feared.
Jumping to the ground from the third to last rung of the ladder, he turned to look at her, a challenge in his eyes. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister,” he said, and his gaze momentarily shifted to Kara’s joyous face. “Kara, this is my wife Madeline.” He knew he ought to have introduced her as Lady Ainsworth, and yet, he could not.
It was petty of him. He knew that.
Still, it was all he had.
Chapter Twelve ? Another World
Fighting the urge to sink into a puddle of misery on the ground, Madeline swallowed as her gaze drifted over her surroundings. This was Huntington House? This ramshackle place?
As small as the estate seemed to be, Madeline could have accepted that as she had never expected much considering her husband was only a baron who had gained that title merely a few years back. Of course, he had no great fortune or large number of estates. However, as she lifted her head and her gaze caught the edges of broken glass in one of the upstairs windows, her head began to swim.
He was poor!
And if he was, then so was she.
“Let me show you where to bring her luggage,” the young woman?Kara, was it? ?said to someone behind Madeline’s shoulder. Moments later, she saw the coachman carry one of her trunks into the house. They did not expect her to stay here, did they? To sleep in this…this house, if it even deserved the word?
And the young woman?Kara?she was her husband’s sister? Taking note of Kara’s simple dress, its dirt-stained hem, her sleeves rolled up and smudges of flour on her face and apron, Madeline thought she would go mad. She could not stay here! Not a moment longer!
Panic seized her, and she spun around on her heel without a conscious thought as to where to go or how to get there. All she knew was that she had to leave! Now!
The moment she caught sight of her lady’s maid Anne, standing stock still by the open carriage door, her face scrunched up in shock, a hand curled around Madeline’s upper arm, pulling her back.
As the air flew from her lungs, Madeline found herself colliding with her husband’s hard chest. “Let go of me! I must?”
“Why are you here?” he snarled, his dark eyes burning into hers. “Why did you come?”
“I…I…,” she stammered as her eyes once more drifted over the sorry excuse for a house that her husband called home before looking up at him with wide eyes.
Finally, she took note of the smudge of dirt on his forehead, his open collar revealing bronzed skin, his rolled-up sleeves and dirt-stained hands that held her as tightly as they had the night of their wedding. Although a shiver ran down her spine at the feel of his hands on her waist, Madeline could not believe what she saw.
He was dressed like one of his tenants.
A common worker.