Hannah followed Jane into her brother’s wing of the house. It was rather abashing, not just because he was a gentleman, but also because he was her employer. Of course, this entire estate was his to govern. Every inch of space in the house belonged to him. There was just something—not really troubling, that wasn’t the emotion—just something more about seeing Reed’s part of the house. This was where he spent his time eating, sleeping and reading. This was where he spent his intimate and quiet hours. Of course, she would never dream of setting one slipper in this side of the house, were it not for Jane’s insistence that they would all help with raising the puppy.
In truth, she was glad of a little distraction. She had spent the past several days designing every kind of ensemble imaginable for Jane, and Jane had given her approval to everything. There was nothing more to do except begin the actual work. Provided, of course, she also had Reed’s approval. She tucked her sketch pad closer to her body as Jane opened a door and ushered her into a pleasant little sitting room.
Reed was there, on a settee that was upholstered a deep shade of blue. The entire room was done in varying hues of blue, with heavy oak furniture, giving it a decidedly masculine feel. She curtsied briefly as Reed caught her glance.
“Don’t stand on ceremony, Siddons. After all, you are seeing me at my absolute worst.” Reed’s voice sounded tired, and his smile was wan. “Here. Take her.”
Hannah dropped her sketchbook on the settee and accepted the warm, furry bundle from Reed. The puppy had grown so much. In fact, she was fast becoming more than just a tiny little creature. At any time, her eyes would open, and then she’d be off, gaining independence with each day.
“Have you named her?” Jane came over and stroked the puppy’s fur.
“No,” John replied. He scrubbed his hand over his face.
“What?” Both girls cried in unison.
“I’ve been too busy keeping her alive,” Reed protested, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I don’t have time for that responsibility, too.”
“Fine. Then we shall name her.” Jane shot her brother a scolding look. “What do you think, Hannah? What about Princess?”
“I refuse, under any circumstances, to baby a dog named Princess,” Reed growled, his eyes tightly closed.
Despite herself, Hannah’s mouth twisted in amusement. He was right. The dog was his, and it would be ridiculous for a young man to be calling for “Princess” while out hunting.
“What about Jill?” She shrugged, gently stroking the pup’s fur with her forefinger. “It’s short and feminine and you shan’t worry about your masculinity if you call her when your hunting friends are out shooting with you.”
Reed chuckled. “Too many J names in this house. Jane, John and then Jill. Somewhere someone would throw their hands up in horror at the alliteration.”
Hannah smiled. “I suppose that’s true. Molly, then.”
Reed nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. I like it.”
Jane beamed. “Molly it is.”
Molly had finished the last of the bottle and was now snoozing comfortably in the crook of Hannah’s arm. She hated to wake Molly, but it simply didn’t do to sit around in Reed’s study. She must show him her work and gain his approval. Then, when she journeyed to Tansley the next week, she could purchase the fabrics and begin the actual work of making the gowns.
She handed Molly over to Jane, taking care not to jostle her too much. Molly stretched one paw lazily toward the ceiling, but remained sound asleep.
“Reed, I have gotten Jane’s approval on her wardrobe, and now I feel I should have yours.” She scooped up the sketch pad and held it out to him. “Would you please look through my ideas?”
“Come, sit.” He patted the seat beside him.
Hannah hesitated. Sitting next to him? That seemed a trifle forward. On the other hand, his sister was standing right there, and he looked absolutely fatigued. Her virtue was certainly not in any danger, so there was no need to be missish.
Even so, her pulse quickened as she took her place beside him. Could he see her heart racing or hear it pounding in her chest? She coughed loudly to cover the moment.
“Are you quite all right? I can ring for tea.” John reached over and gave the bellpull a tug. “Now, let us see your work.”
Hannah held her breath as he began examining each drawing with an interested, absorbed expression on his face. She had removed the sketch of him with Molly, so there was no need to worry about him stumbling across it. She had tried to throw it into the fire but couldn’t bring herself to go that far. It was a good sketch, even if the inspiration had been John Reed. So she had tucked it away in a drawer, safe from anyone’s sight.
“As you can see, I kept all of the garments very modest,” she began hesitantly. It was easy enough to describe the gowns and her vision to Jane, but quite different to tell a gentleman about them. “The necklines are high but still accentuate Jane’s natural beauty. I also use a lot of pink. I feel pink sets off her complexion perfectly.”
They were briefly interrupted by the butler, whom Reed asked to bring tea. When the butler had respectfully bowed out, he continued his perusal of the sketchbook.
“Yes, of course, I can see how much you’ve tailored the dresses to my sister’s tastes.” Reed finished leafing through. “You’ve done excellent work. What do you need now?”
Hannah blinked. Always she had to find everything on her own. Having someone offer to help was so unusual. “I suppose now I need to gather together the fabrics, the notions and so forth. I had planned to do so when I returned to Tansley.”
“When do you go back?” He handed her the sketch pad.
“On Monday. I decided that I would pack my trunk on Sunday after we attend church. Well, I assume we shall attend church services, as we seem to have missed them last week, and then I shall leave at first light.” She had made the plan in her mind without consulting him, and now it all sounded rather bold. “Provided, of course, that this is acceptable to you.”
“Yes, I’ll provide you with the traveling coach,” Reed replied. “We don’t usually attend Sunday services. The church is in Crich, which is quite a drive, and I am not enough of a believer to make that journey every Sunday.” He gave a bitter little laugh.
“My brother makes certain that any conversation about our Lord ends in ill feelings for all,” Jane added, her normally soft tone taking on a hard edge. “I apologize if he has offended you, Hannah.”
“I don’t aim to make people uncomfortable.” Reed rose from the settee. He looked distinctively uncomfortable himself. “I just don’t have much use for a higher power.”
The butler showed himself in, carrying a large tea tray. The moment was broken. Jane set Molly into her basket by the hearth and bustled about readying the tea. No more was said about church services or about Reed’s lack of faith. Like his sudden, deep-seated rage, this was a surprising development. Not so much that he had a lack of faith, for there were plenty of young bucks milling around the gaming halls of London who had surely lost their way. Just that, once again, he seemed to have more depth than she had ever expected. A typical young man might say he had no time or had forgotten God. What Reed implied is that he had made a deliberate decision to set aside his religion.
Hannah accepted a cup of tea. Reed also took tea and a biscuit, and sat beside her. “Anyway, as we were saying, you shall travel on Monday. How long will you be gone?”
“I had hoped a week, if that is quite all right with you,” she responded. She stirred her tea with the small silver spoon Jane had given her.
“Yes.” He paused for a moment, taking a bite of the biscuit. “You’ll return, though. Won’t you?”
She laughed. “Of course I shall. I will have a lot of work to do. Once I have purchased what I need from the village shops, I will spend all my time sewing.”
“Don’t spend all your time working,” he admonished. He turned in his seat, eyeing her frankly. “Write down a list of everything you will need for the wardrobe. I have a man in London who can arrange to purchase everything and send it down. Once you return, the materials will be here. I will also ask our housekeeper, Mrs. Pierce, to press two maids into service for you. You can use them to help sew, trim, baste—whatever you need.”
He had thought of everything, and she would have very little to do on her own. How nice it was to have some of the burden shouldered for her. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” He leaned forward, his tired eyes kindled with a warm light. “Jane depends on you entirely, and I know you will help me in this endeavor. Anything you need, anything at all—you have only to ask.”
For some ridiculous reason, the closeness of his person and the confidential tone in his voice caused a frisson of awareness down her spine. How absurd. She made a deliberate move to set herself away from him and capsized her teacup in the process. The commotion of cleaning her gown, setting the teacup to rights and apologizing for her clumsiness erased any illusions she was gaining about herself.
She was no swan. She would always be the plodding and predictable Nan.
* * *
After the girls left and Molly lay snoozing peacefully in her basket, John made his way to the barn to check on the other pups. It was a good idea to see how the mother and babies were doing, though if anything had gone wrong, he was sure Davis would have told him. Too bad Hannah was gone. He would have asked her to accompany him. Her company was becoming most satisfactory to him.
The barn was humming with activity as he drew near. A farrier was working with one of the draft horses, and several grooms were holding the Percheron steady. Stable lads were using the excellent weather as an excuse to muck out all the stalls and whitewash the stone walls. Davis was supervising their work, barking orders as the boys scattered to and fro.
“Davis,” he called as he came close enough for his head groom to hear. Davis smiled and lifted his hand in greeting. John returned the wave. It felt strangely good to be near the barn, as if he had a purpose on this vast estate. Something more than that vague title of “Master,” which meant heavy lifting, but it often felt like no real work.
“Madge and her pups are doing very well, sir,” Davis began, tugging at his cap. “And how’s the little one?”
“Hale and hearty.” John clasped the groom’s hand in greeting. “We’ve decided to call her Molly. Already she’s the favorite of the house.”
Davis chuckled. “Glad to hear that. They’re all fine puppies. If they take after their mother, they could be the finest litter in the county.”
Was this mere hyperbole, or was the groom really sure that they were an above-average group of pups? “Do you really think so?”
Davis nodded thoughtfully. “Come into the barn. I’ll show you.” He turned to one of the stable lads. “Jim, I expect this wall to be done by the time I get back. No idling or you’ll catch the rough edge of my tongue. You hear?”
The boy nodded, a grin crooking the corners of his mouth. “Aye, sir.”
Davis led the way into the barn, which hummed with far more commotion than it had during his previous visit. “Upon my word, you are turning the place inside out, Davis.”
“Spring cleaning—we do it every year. During the winter months, it’s difficult to keep the place as clean as it should be. Now that the weather’s warm, we can get everything spick-and-span. Ah, here we are.” He motioned John over to the same horse stall, where a fresh, bright layer of straw had been laid.
Madge lifted her head at their approach and wagged her tail. The puppies slept in a heap together, hardly stirring except for the rise and fall of their breaths. It was a cozy picture, to be sure.
“Now, Madge is the offspring of two magnificent collies that were your father’s pride and joy. I am sure you remember them—Bah and Cleo. Cleo was an exceptional mother, as good as Madge here. Bah was your father’s best hunting companion. Both of them the products of many generations of fine breeding. Grant Park has always produced the best dogs in Derbyshire.”
“Have we really?” He was shockingly uninformed about this part of his estate. Of course, he remembered Bah—what a good old dog he was. But John had never stopped to consider more than that. Bah was just a dog. He was excellent on the hunt. That’s all there was to it. That there could be more to the story, or that there were a few generations of history behind each pup—well, who knew?
“Yes. I always wondered why your father didn’t go in for dog breeding in a big way. After all, the pedigrees at Grant Park have been excellent. He didn’t really care for it overmuch. He thought of it as a mere pastime, I suppose.” Davis shrugged and fell silent.
The germ of an idea grew in John’s mind. Could this be something he could try? Something of Grant Park that could be uniquely his contribution to its well-being and its reputation? “What about training?”
“Ah, well. I never got much beyond trying to convince your father that he should breed dogs and sell them. Training them is another excellent idea. These dogs are all going to be bright and quick. They could be trained to do almost anything.” Davis smiled. “I’d even say one or two of them could learn to dance, if we taught them.”
John laughed. “They’re that smart, then? Smart enough to dance their way through a crowded ballroom? Well, that is quite a feat, indeed.” He stared at the pups. This could be his way of easing into life at Grant Park. He had, already, done well with Molly. Raising puppies was interesting, and training them could be, too. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s start with this litter. As they grow, we shall see which of them would be best bred for hunting, others for sheep-herding. We can continue to breed other litters. In time, this could become quite an interesting enterprise.”
Davis clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent thought, sir.”
John’s breath caught in his chest. Was he accepted now? There was something of respect in the old man’s manner, something that went beyond the reserved, expected kind of deference he would receive as master. He was being accepted as a man in his own right, and it meant more to him than he cared to admit.
A sudden thought seized hold of him. What would Hannah have to say to all of this? He could hardly wait to tell her. She, of all people, would understand the importance of carving out one’s own place in the world.