Free Without a Mother's Love by Catherine King

imagine her dressed in one of Mrs Wortley’s ornate silk gowns. Mrs Wortley . . . He had not paid the rent on her house that was due last Michaelmas. Or her draper’s and milliner’s bills, languishing in his desk. It was time to draw a line under that particular liaison. She would soon find herself another rich old patron and he would have to make do with the whores.
    The governess put down his pen. ‘Is that all, sir?’
    ‘No. There is another letter. To Mrs Wortley.’ As he dictated, he saw a blush rise to her cheeks, which amused him. She did not know who the woman was, but she had realized what she was to him. He was sorry to be ending his arrangement, terminating the lease on her house and telling her to leave, but there would be others.The governess’s cheeks were still pink and her brow was furrowed when she brought the letters to the bed for him to sign.
    He managed a twisted grin. ‘There’ll be another like her soon. Tell Matt to deliver the letter to her.’
    He supposed she was wondering if she would be the next to go. She was not one-and-twenty until April and the principal at Blackstone would expect his payment for her until then. He would have to persuade him to make do with the free slack for this winter.
    ‘Do not frown, Miss Trent,’ he said.‘You have not my worries. I am deep in debt, with no credit at any bank. I cannot sell my meagre coal to the ironworks and my colliers are up in arms because I cannot pay them.’
    His face contorted with pain as he handed back the pen. He had already sold everything that was not entailed by old Samuel’s will, and he could not raise another mortgage on what was left. There was Olivia’s income, of course, and that was significant. It had paid for young Hesley’s education and his own pleasures with Mrs Wortley, but he needed it now to keep Hill Top House going.The clever lawyers for her grandmother’s family had tied up her capital so tightly that he couldn’t get his hands on any of it. And it was capital he wanted. He decided to review the trust document.
    He must have more money now. There was his half-sister, Caroline, married to that dull ironmaster. Her mother’s folk had been shopkeepers and he came from the labouring classes. Neither of them had much influence in the Riding, but Benjamin Tyler’s cast iron was the best and his credit was good. And he had a contract with the railway company.
    Before the bank had collapsed Benjamin had agreed to invest in his mine project. He wondered how much his brother-in-law was good for. As soon as he was up and about again he’d write to him. He’d pen that letter himself. The governess knew too much already.
    Adam Harvey had said he would recover and he supposed he would. But how long would it take? He’d die of boredom, cooped up in this house. He wanted his drive and vitality back. The irony! Mrs Wortley would soon have taken his mind off his worries and seen him to rights.
    He dare not go into town and risk another attack. The constable himself had ridden out to Hill Top House to warn him to keep away, saying he had no militia to deploy at Mexton. There was a decent whore-house on the Mansfield Road. It was discreet enough, but too many of his creditors took their pleasure there. He was trapped in his home and he did not like it. Until his strength returned, he supposed he would have to sit it out.
     
    ‘I have recommended that he stop taking the sleeping draught. He should not become dependent on it and his pain has lessened. His usual nightcap will suffice.’ Adam Harvey was sitting in the warm kitchen, sipping a hot rum toddy before he made the journey to town on horseback. He had attended the master diligently for a month. ‘I shall visit only once a week now, unless he sends for me. He should keep to his bedchamber for another fortnight.’
    ‘You have told him so?’ Harriet queried.
    ‘He does not wish it, I know. Perhaps the child can help.’
    ‘How? He - he does not seek her