Jack of All Trades

By Kate Pearce

When the brash railway contractor Elijah Hepworth and his rowdy crew of navvies arrive in Millcastle the town is divided between those who embrace the possibility of change and those who want things to remain the same. Alice Collins, who has recently come to live at Grafton Hall, knows which side she’d prefer to be on, but Mr. Hepworth obviously has other ideas. When the comfortable, safe existence Alice hoped for is snatched from her grasp, will she accept an offer from a man who never claims to be a gentleman, but who might be what she needed all along?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094458946

Kate Pearce

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kate Pearce was born in England in the middle of a large family of girls and quickly found that her imagination was far more interesting than real life. After acquiring a degree in history and barely escaping from the British Civil Service alive, she moved to California and then to Hawaii with her kids and her husband and set about reinventing herself as a romance writer. She is known for both her unconventional heroes and her joy at subverting romance clichés. In her spare time she self publishes science fiction erotic romance, historical romance, and whatever else she can imagine. You can find Kate on katepearce.com.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

MILLCASTLE 1839

Alice Collins stepped out of the mail coach and looked apprehensively around her. The George and Dragon coaching inn was an old black and white building set low in the ground with a small and remarkably crowded cobbled yard to one side.

Mind out, miss.

She instinctively stepped back as one of the ostlers moved past her and dumped the baggage from the top of the mail coach to the ground beside the door. She spied her bag, quickly reclaimed it, and headed inside the inn.

Are you wanting a room, dear? A blond woman Alice assumed was the proprietress came over, her smile welcoming.

No, thank you. I merely wished to ask for directions to Grafton Hall.

You’ll need to rent a gig for that journey. It’s too far to walk.

I… don’t have sufficient funds to do that. Alice gripped the handle of her bag more tightly. But thank you, anyway. She glanced at the door. Can you at least advise me as to which direction I should take?

The woman sighed. Go out of the stable yard, turn right, and follow the lane back up the hill until you come to the common. Keep the high hedge on your left and go on about a mile until you see a stone gatehouse. That’s the entrance to Grafton Hall.

Thank you. Alice nodded.

Do you have business with his lordship, then? The landlady’s tone turned slightly sharper.

You could say that.

You do know he is happily married with a child?

I’m very glad to hear it. Alice curtsied. "I won’t keep you from your customers any longer, ma’am.

She escaped through the door and studied the scene in front of her. The mail coach was being readied at some speed for its onward journey. New horses had been hitched and the coachman was intent on gathering his flock of passengers by threatening to leave any latecomers behind. Alice wondered how long the mail coach would survive after the new-fangled railway came to town.

She’d already spotted the massive construction works in the valley leading up to Millcastle, a brash new scar through the hills that looked as if it would never heal. From her view of the town below, she saw half the old market square was in the process of being torn up to create the necessary grand station. The air tasted acrid, and her clothes were already dirty from the spoil billowing out of the numerous factory chimneys. The mill owners would probably welcome the railway to improve their businesses.

A harsh place, Millcastle, and not one she would’ve chosen to visit unless desperate. She turned right and began to trudge up the hill. At least it took her away from the town limits and back into the countryside. A glance up at the cloudy sky told her that she would be lucky to avoid the rain, and that if she didn’t pick up her pace, she would arrive in the dark and possibly miss the entrance to the estate.

Her boots were already patched, and she hoped they’d last the journey. What would happen if she was sent on her way again? How would she survive? Alice quashed down her fears and concentrated on the uneven path ahead of her. One thing she had learned in the last painful year was not to look too far ahead or court trouble.

Francis?

Viscount Grafton-Wesley, who preferred to be known simply as Captain Grafton, looked up as his wife Caroline came into his study.

What’s wrong, my dear?

Barker just informed me that a woman arrived at the front door and asked to see you.

He set down his pen. What kind of woman?

Young, beautiful, and soaked to the skin.

And you believe I invited her here?

You’re not that foolish. She regarded him steadily. But this wouldn’t be the first occasion when one of your previous paramours has unexpectedly dropped by for a visit, would it?

That is true. He stood up. Do you want me to tell Barker to throw her out?

In the rain? Caroline looked appalled. Perhaps you might consider speaking to her first.

He sighed. As you wish. He offered her his arm. Where is the girl?

In the small front parlor.

You will accompany me.

Naturally. She sniffed. I had no intention of allowing you to go in there alone.

How is our son?

Sleeping soundly for once, which is why I was downstairs and able to intercept Barker before he came to get you.

In case I threw our uninvited guest out in the rain or ran off with her?

Exactly.

He bowed and held the door open for her. The woman standing by the fire swung around to stare at them. She was indeed both young and beautiful, with fair hair and very brown eyes. She was also soaked to the skin and dressed in garments that, in his opinion, should’ve been torn up and sold to the rag man years ago.

Viscount Grafton-Wesley?

Yes. What do you want?

She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and looked him right in the eye. I believe we might be related.

Aware of his wife stiffening beside him, he held up his finger. How old are you?

Her brow creased in apparent confusion. I’m twenty-six, but I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.

Not my child, then. I wasn’t even in this godforsaken country when you were conceived—unless your mother came out to India?

She… did not, sir, and I am definitely not claiming to be your child.

Thank God for small mercies. Francis nodded. Continue.

After her recent death, I found out that the man who… kept my mother was a gentleman called Thomas Grafton.

Ah, now it begins to make sense. Francis turned to his wife. My father was a randy old bugger.

This woman is claiming to be your half-sister? Caroline asked and turned to the woman. Do you have any proof?

She took out a letter and offered it to Francis, her hand shaking the paper so hard it fluttered like a fan. My mother wrote this on her deathbed.

Francis quickly perused the letter and handed it to Caroline. I’ll get my solicitor to look into the matter. Is this your previous address on the letterhead?

Yes, sir. When she died, the bailiffs came and told me I had to leave because the rent hadn’t been paid for months. The woman swallowed hard. They said my mother had considerable debts and that they would sell the contents of the house to recoup her losses.

And left you out in the street? Francis inquired. He wasn’t shocked. He’d had to deal with plenty of tenants in the past and evicted more than a few. I assume you have no other relatives?

Not that I am aware of. My mother’s family refused to acknowledge her.

Sanctimonious old pricks, Francis muttered. Then you will stay here until the matter is resolved to my satisfaction.

You… aren’t going to throw me out?

Not immediately. Francis turned to his wife. Can you find her some clean clothes and somewhere to sleep until we resolve this nonsense?

Of course. Caroline smiled at the younger woman. What is your name?

Alice Collins. She looked from Francis back to Caroline and her voice broke. I can’t believe you are allowing me to stay.

Neither of us are of a mind to send anyone in distress away, Miss Collins. We know desperation when we see it. Caroline placed a gentle hand on Alice’s shoulder. Now, come with me and I’ll help you settle in for the night. Everything will look far better in the morning.

Somehow, I doubt that, Miss Collins said. But I have had little reason for optimism in the past few months.

I’ll be in my study. Francis kept the letter and followed them back out into the hall. "Collins…" For some reason the name sounded vaguely familiar.

He lit another branch of candles after returning to the study and set it beside the bookcase containing his father’s estate records. Despite his dislike for his old man, he had to admire his meticulous record-keeping. If there was some record of Alice’s mother in the papers, it would be within the pages of these leather-bound volumes.

He returned to his desk and spent a few minutes writing to his solicitor about the matter in hand and was just sealing the letter with his signet ring and red wax when Caroline returned.

How is she?

She is well spoken, obviously hasn’t been eating properly, and her clothes have seen better days.

That wasn’t what I asked you.

I know. She sighed. She reminds me of myself when I first met you—full of pride and not much else.

You had much more than that to offer, my love.

No, I didn’t. I was terrified all the time. She met his gaze, her expression thoughtful. I suspect Alice is in a similar situation.

Penniless and desperate?

Exactly—except there is no Captain Francis Grafton around to entice her into a devilish alliance.

I certainly hope not. Francis addressed the letter and set it to one side.

Francis… if she proves not to be related to you at all, would you still consider allowing me to help her?

"Allowing you? He raised an eyebrow. When have you ever done anything I have asked you to? If you wish to keep her and find her a useful occupation, I will hardly object."

Thank you. She came over and kissed him full on the mouth.

You’re welcome. Shall we go to bed?

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. Yes, please.

Alice got out of the bath and wrapped herself in the large drying cloth the maid, who had identified herself as Martha, had left warming by the fire. There was also a long linen nightgown, a dressing gown to put over it, and a pair of knitted socks. Alice was beginning to feel as if she was dreaming. She hadn’t dared to think beyond handing over the letter to the current viscount. On first seeing his harsh face, she’d assumed she’d be shown the door immediately, but he had proven to be not only extremely direct, but gruffly kind.

She climbed into the large, comfortable bed, discovered someone had warmed the sheets, and almost cried. Despite the hall’s closeness to Millcastle, there was no noise and no glow from the factory furnaces to disturb her rest. She settled against the feather-filled pillows and closed her eyes. Tomorrow she would be more in command of herself. Before she could even manage another thought, she fell asleep.

Alice smoothed down the skirt of her new day dress and followed Caroline into the viscount’s study. She’d been at the hall for over two weeks and had just begun to feel safe again. She loved spending time with Caroline and Ivy, who was Caroline’s sister, and also the viscount and Caroline’s son, Joseph. She already knew she would miss them if she had to leave.

Viscount Grafton sat behind his desk, a cigar in one hand and a letter in the other. Ah! There you are. I believe we finally have an answer as to your parentage.

Alice sat down before her knees gave way. Despite Caroline’s assurances that whatever the outcome she was welcome to stay, she still had her doubts.

Mr. Palmer helped me discover the necessary documentation held in my father’s accounting books and supplemented the information with correspondence between your mother and my father. He definitely paid the rent on your mother’s house. When I claimed the title, my solicitor stopped the payments. He had no idea who your mother was until I enlightened him.

Then it is true? Caroline asked.

Indeed, it is. Welcome to the family, Alice. I can only apologize for my father’s appalling behavior. He glanced over at his wife, who nodded for him to continue. I intend to offer you an allowance, of course, and if you wish to continue to live here, we would be delighted.

But… I’m not legitimate. Alice finally managed to speak.

So what? Francis raised an eyebrow. I don’t care about that.

Most families would.

Well, we’re not most families, Francis said firmly. Now, if you will both excuse me? I have business in town that can’t wait. He stood up. If you wish to read through the correspondence, it’s here on my desk.

Thank you, Alice said. She waited until he’d gone out of the room before turning to his much more approachable wife. I know you cannot possibly share the viscount’s attitude to my status.

Why can’t I? Caroline looked amused. I have two sisters. Adding you to the family will be a blessing.

But—

Alice, dear. Why don’t you read through the correspondence from the solicitor and come and find me if you have any further questions? I’ll be in the nursery.

1

SIX MONTHS LATER

A lice, come and help me choose which dress to wear for the dinner this evening. Francis has invited some very promising young men. Ivy grabbed Alice’s hand and walked her toward the stairs. If you wear your blue gown, I can’t possibly wear mine.

Why not? Alice allowed Ivy to coax her up the stairs of the house she was beginning to consider home.

Because you look beautiful in blue, and I am not of a mind to compete with you.

I do not wish to—

Ivy paused to mock frown at her. It is not a complaint. It is simply a fact. Now, come and help me decide between the green and the pink.

Like the rest of the family, Ivy was very direct—something Alice had never been. Finding her voice among the opinionated members of the Grafton and Delisle families had proved something of a trial. Her mother had always insisted that Alice behave like a lady, so that no one would doubt her respectability. Much good that had done her…

Which one?

Alice took her time inspecting each gown as Ivy held them up against herself.

The rose pink is definitely my favorite.

Why?

Alice considered her words. It is more vibrant than the green and less fussy.

I think you are right. Ivy gave a decisive nod. Mother said the same thing, and she has exquisite taste.

Alice wondered if Mrs. Delisle was also the person who had told Ivy not to wear blue. She always championed her own daughters over the interloper and fiercely guarded their status—not that she needed to. Alice was all too aware of who and what she was.

Can you ring the bell for Hetty? Ivy asked as she struggled to unbutton her day gown. I might as well get ready now. Dinner is in less than an hour.

Alice paused long enough to both summon the maid and help Ivy with the back of her dress.

I’ll send Hetty to you when she’s finished with me, Ivy said. She says you’re much easier to dress than I am.

I have no idea why. Alice smiled at Ivy. She had developed a deep and abiding affection for her scatty and compassionate half-cousin who had the sweetest face and a matching disposition.

Because you don’t regularly lose half your hairpins, ladder your stockings, or trip over and damage the hem of your dress. Ivy chuckled. I am like a sparrow to your serene swan, Alice.

Alice had no intention of telling Ivy how hard won her exterior appearance of calm was. She’d been raised to support her mother through bouts of ill health and melancholy, not to draw attention to herself or demand anything in return.

She went to her room and set about making herself presentable. She’d acted as her mother’s personal maid when finances had been tight and was confident she could manage to dress herself without assistance. It was a luxury to have Hetty’s help with her hair though. Sometimes it was still hard to believe she was considered part of the viscount’s family and acknowledged as Francis’s relative. As he was the most prominent aristocrat in the area and a known fighter, his opinion held weight. No one had dared to suggest Alice wasn’t welcome anywhere.

The dark blue of her silk gown did suit her very well. She sat down at her dressing table and carefully put on her mother’s pearls. Caroline had given her a set of pearl earrings for Christmas that matched the necklace perfectly, so she put those on as well.

You’re almost done. Hetty came in through the door. Dressing Miss Ivy always takes longer than I think it will.

If you can just help with my hair, I will be ready to go down, Alice replied.

Would you like ringlets? Hetty picked up the brush and gathered Alice’s fair hair in her hand. You have the hair for it.

Perhaps just a center part and a braided crown on top? Alice suggested. I don’t wish you to have too much work.

It’s a pleasure with your pretty face. Hetty winked at her in the mirror. But I can’t deny that the braids look well on you, too.

Then let’s do that and keep the curls for my first ball, Alice suggested.

Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way down the main staircase, her petticoats rustling beneath her skirts. She paused on the landing to observe the hall below, mentally reviewing the guest list she had helped Caroline compile. She’d begun to discover that Francis was a complex man with fingers in many pies and an audacious ability to feel at home in any class of society. He dabbled in politics both at the palace of Westminster and at the piece hall and had enraged many a mill owner by demanding better wages and hours for their workers. He was not afraid of a fight and, in truth, seemed to relish the opportunity to cause a scandal.

At present, his considerable energies were divided between the building of new homes for his tenants and the massive construction project centered around the old district of Three Coins in the center of town. Many of his aristocratic neighbors were against the incursion of the railway and frequently arrived at the hall to air their grievances to Francis’s face. They found little sympathy from him and often left in high dudgeon, calling him a betrayer of his class.

A flicker of movement in the hall below reminded her that she had no time to dream. She gathered her skirt in her hand and made her way down the staircase. Barker had just let three gentlemen into the house and was busy taking their hats and cloaks.

Good evening, Miss Collins.

Alice smiled at Mr. Fletcher, whom she’d met at a previous dinner party. He was on the board of the Millcastle Steam Locomotive Company and was responsible for persuading Francis to lend his talents to his plan to bring a passenger railway to Millcastle.

Good evening, sir.

He gestured at the gentlemen on his right. May I introduce you to Mr. Grovedale, our newly returned neighbor, and Mr. Hepworth, the chief contractor for our little railway?

Mr. Hepworth stepped forward immediately, took her hand, and bowed over it. He was a tall, heavyset man whose evening clothes looked brand new, as did the large diamond pin winking in his cravat. His eyes were a very light blue and his short hair was blond.

Miss Collins. A pleasure.

Mr. Hepworth. Welcome to Grafton Hall.

When he seemed inclined to keep hold of her hand, she gently disengaged her fingers, and turned to the quieter, slighter man.

Mr. Grovedale.

He smiled at her with such sweetness that she couldn’t look away. He wasn’t remarkably handsome by any means, and his skin was tanned darker than was deemed acceptable, but there was a stillness about him that instantly intrigued her.

It seems that many things have changed since I was last in Millcastle, Miss Collins. It is indeed a pleasure to meet one of the most pleasing additions.

Mr. Hepworth snorted. This gentleman doesn’t like what we’ve done to the valley, Fletcher. He thinks we’ve ruined it.

I didn’t say that, Mr. Grovedale replied, his gaze lingering on Alice. I am merely concerned for the state of the countryside and how it will recover from such excesses.

You didn’t need to spell it out. I know your sort.

Mr. Fletcher put his hand on Mr. Hepworth’s arm. Perhaps we should go in? Is Viscount Grafton in the drawing room, Miss Collins?

I believe he is. Alice walked to the left of the staircase where the low murmur of conversation and laughter flowed from the open door of the drawing room. The three gentlemen followed her.

Francis looked up as they entered the room. Good evening, Fletcher, Hepworth, Grovedale. How’s my railway coming along?

Very well, my lord. Mr. Fletcher smiled and turned to Hepworth. You see, Hepworth? Not all aristocrats are against the railway.

Captain Grafton is a different kind of man, Mr. Hepworth said gruffly. He’s never struck me as a fool.

Alice glanced over at Mr. Grovedale and caught his amused expression. The fact that he wasn’t taking Mr. Hepworth’s comments personally said a lot about his character.

Grovedale, good to see you back. Francis shook his hand. How was South America?

Much the same. I did find some extraordinary new varieties of orchids, some of which even survived the voyage home.

You collect plants? Alice asked.

Yes. He smiled at her. Is that something that interests you, Miss Collins?

Very much so. In the last six months I have been helping the viscountess restore the conservatory attached to the house to its former glory.

He bowed. Perhaps if you are interested, I might offer some advice as to what to grow where? I find that most glass houses in England are very badly managed.

That would be most welcome, Alice said. We have been reading the old household accounts of what was being cultivated, and they aren’t very clear about how to maintain anything.

Mr. Grovedale chuckled. Probably because they had no idea what they were doing.

Ian!

Alice looked around to see Ivy come rushing toward them, her expression thrilled.

Good Lord, is that you, Ivy? Mr. Grovedale pressed a hand to his heart. I hardly recognized you.

She curtsied in front of him and grinned. "I am all grown up now. Have you enjoyed meeting Alice? Isn’t she wonderful?"

She is, indeed. She tells me that you’ve been restoring the conservatory.

Not me, I’d probably break all the glass, but Alice and Caroline have been very busy. Ivy’s gaze swept over Mr. Grovedale. You look so brown.

Six months in South America will do that to a man. I’m glad to be home, but I suspect I’ll be equally glad to leave in three months or so, when the urge to travel overcomes me again.

Travel, Ivy breathed. I cannot wait to try some of that myself. The farthest I’ve been so far is London.

Barker appeared in the doorway. Dinner is served.

Ivy slipped her arm through Mr. Grovedale’s and smiled at Alice. Caroline asked if you would partner Mr. Hepworth. She thinks he’s unlikely to bark at you too much.

He’s been perfectly polite so far, Alice said as she turned to look for him and found him staring right back at her.

She went over and offered him a polite smile. Shall we, sir?

A pleasure, Miss Collins. He held out his arm. I understand Captain Grafton has a very superior cook.

So I’ve been told, Alice said as they entered the dining room. He very correctly pulled out her chair for her and waited until she was seated before sitting as well. My… cousin is very particular about the standard of his food.

They’d decided on the fictitious relationship of cousin rather than half-sibling to avoid any direct questions as to Alice’s parentage. To his credit, Francis had been happy to acknowledge her as his sister and be damned to anyone who questioned him. Eventually, he had conceded that Alice had to deal with the rest of society and that her wishes should prevail. She had no doubt that the secret of her true paternity would leak out at some point, but if she could avoid it being generally known, she would be at peace.

Mr. Hepworth carried on talking. Viscount Grafton is very particular about everything. I’ve never dealt with a member of the aristocracy who likes to poke his nose into my everyday business quite as much as the captain does.

Alice allowed him to place her napkin in her lap and took a