Free Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2) by Pearl Darling

with relief. “I’ll get it.” Smoothing down her skirts, she moved to the door and fumbled at the lock. She opened the door an inch and peered into the darkness. A tall form faced away from her. Harriet sighed. Not again.
    “I’m not sewing up any more injured men, you know. You can’t just keep coming here expecting me—Oh.”
    The man turned. In every way he looked like Bill, and yet in every way he did not. The dark light hid the fact that his eyes were an emerald green where Bill’s were brown. He was leaner and yet still as muscular. He also caused shivers to course down her spine where Bill did not.
    “Lord Stanton.” Harriet swallowed. He didn’t say anything. The silence lengthened.
    “Who is it?” Agatha called.
    James raised his eyebrows and planted his legs apart. It didn’t look like he would be leaving any time soon.
    “Forgive me,” she said stiltedly. Her manners won over. “Do come inside.”
    Agatha stood as Harriet opened the door more fully to allow James in.
    “James!” Agatha cried in delight, and then wrung her hands. “Do beg my pardon, I quite forgot myself, you must be yes, Lord Stanton now. Oh dear, I’m not quite sure what to call you.”
    “James is fine.” James quirked one edge of his lips upwards and walked into the room. Instantly the cottage seemed smaller.       
    “Hmph.” Harriet couldn’t stop her mutter of indignation.
    “What’s that?” James shot her an enquiring look.
    “Oh nothing.”
    Nothing, my foot. What had he said to her? ‘That’s Lord Stanton to you.’ Bloody man. What made him think he could speak to her like that?
    James was still looking at her. She resisted the urge to pat her hair or adjust her skirts. He had known her when she was fourteen and running around barefoot.
    “I was wondering if I could speak to Harriet.” James paused and looked at her. “In her capacity as the Brambridge school mistress?” He turned back at Agatha, the strange half smile back again on his face. Harriet resisted the urge to mutter again. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted.
    “I, why yes of course.” Agatha glanced at Harriet and twitched her nose warningly. “I’ll be just upstairs.”
    Harriet waited until Agatha had disappeared around the bend in the stairwell. “Why are you here?” she asked sharply.
    James looked around the cottage and then sank into the chair by the fire. He pushed his legs out in front of him and crossed one long muscular leg over the other. His boots gleamed in the firelight. Harriet couldn’t help contrasting them to her dusty shoes with worn out heels.
    “I came to apologize.”
    “About time.”
    “You see, there you go again. As prickly as a hedgehog. Always lashing out before hearing the full story.”
    “And what story were you going to tell me?” Harriet closed her mouth with a snap. She wasn’t normally so waspish.
    James sighed in obvious frustration. He uncrossed his legs and stood. “Harriet, I wasn’t going to tell you any story. I wanted to say sorry for being so sharp when you first saw me. I was tired. I was…” His voice faltered. “I was embarrassed that you had so easily managed to trip me up. Of course you can call me James. That’s who I am.” He shrugged his impeccably dressed shoulders. “I don’t feel much like a lord anyway.”
    Harriet clenched her fists into the creased muslin of her second best serviceable dress. She wished he hadn’t apologized. It was far easier thinking that he was a cad and a bounder. It helped keep some distance in her mind.
    “I must apologize too,” she said stiffly.
    “What for?”
    Harriet sniffed. “For implying that what the circulars said was true.”
    James turned away from her. His shoulders stiffened slightly. “What if it was true, Harriet?” he asked in a low voice. “True that I had killed a man, many men?”
    Harriet stilled, then plucked at a curl of hair and pushed it behind her ear. Whatever James was, he wasn’t