Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02

Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 by Where the Horses Run

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someone to help.” How righteous he sounded. Like he had all the answers. Had he learned nothing from that fiasco in Texas?
    Disgusted, he motioned toward the house. “Shall we go back inside? I can see you’re chilled. And the boy is waiting for his bedtime story.”
    “Of course.”
    They spoke no more until they parted in the entry. But as Rafe watched her go up the stairs, he felt something move through him. A hollow feeling. Like the pang of an empty belly. But higher up, in his chest.
    The numbness of the last year was thawing. He was starting to feel things again. Want things.
    And he didn’t like it.

Seven
    “W hat do you think of Mr. Jessup?” Josephine asked, watching in the vanity mirror as Henrietta brushed out curls she had pinned into her hair earlier.
    “I like him better than Mr. Huddleston, if you don’t mind me saying.”
    Josephine liked him better, too, and was heartily grateful their neighbor had given up his suit. Between the men she had met in America, Mr. Calhoun on the ship, and those Father had foisted on her here, she was becoming quite adept at repelling male advances. Too bad she had lacked that skill when she was sixteen.
    “But Mr. Jessup . . .” Henny sighed. “Faith, and he’s ever so handsome. And smart.”
    Josephine looked at her in the reflection. “Why do you say that?”
    “One of the upstairs maids said he brought a whole trunkful of books all the way from America. Sure, and all the kitchen girls are half in love with him.”
    Josephine smiled at the cheerful young Irishwoman whose high spirits and love of gossip kept the loneliness at bay, even during Josephine’s darkest days. “But not you, Henny?”
    “Never say it.” A bright laugh, then the pretty redhead leaned down to whisper, “To be sure, I don’t mind passing my eyes over such a foine-looking fellow, but I’ve got me own beau, so I do.”
    “Do you? When did that happen?”
    “While you were in America. But please, miss, don’t tell Shipley.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because, well . . .” Henny’s rosy cheeks seemed to get rosier. “If he knew that we . . . what I mean is . . . consorting amongst the staff is not allowed.”
    Josephine turned on the vanity stool to frown up at her. “Consorting?” Did Henny mean what Josephine thought she meant?
    “If he found out,” the flustered maid said, the brush twisting in her grip, “we’d both lose our places. Then I’d have to go back to the farm and Gordon—”
    “Gordon Stevens? The groom?”
    The brush fell to the floor. Tears spilled over. “Oh, please, miss. Say you won’t dismiss us.”
    “Hush, Henny. Of course I won’t dismiss you. Nor will Shipley.” Reaching into a vanity drawer, she pulled out a hanky and handed it to the weeping woman. “Now do stop crying and tell me why, if you’re so in love, you and Gordon simply don’t marry?”
    “We can’t. Shipley doesn’t allow married couples on staff.”
    Josephine reminded herself to have a talk with the tyrannical butler. This wasn’t the seventeen hundreds. Even servants had rights nowadays. “Then what do you plan to do?”
    Henny dabbed her tears away, then let out a hitching breath. “Keep working until we can afford a livery somewhere. Gordon is ever so good with horses.”
    Josephine reminded her that Father was selling horses, not adding any.
    “But surely he’ll keep a few. For the carriage and such like.”
    “Hammersmith will be able to handle that without help.”
    “Then maybe Gordon could train as a footman?”
    Josephine suspected Father would soon be letting footmen go, too. But rather than trigger another onslaught of tears, she broached a growing concern. “Are you being careful, Henny?” Seeing her maid’s look of confusion, she elaborated. “If you’re, em, consorting with Gordon . . . well, you wouldn’t want to make the same mistake I did. Not that I think of Jamie as a mistake, but—”
    “Oh, no, Miss Cathcart! Jamie is a

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