Mary Jo Putney (19 page)

A
s Rob and Ashton entered the library, a footman was just laying out the tea tray between the leather-covered chairs at the far end of the room. After pouring, the man quietly withdrew. Was it Sarah who had the household running so smoothly? Rob told himself to ask her about that.

As they settled into the comfortably worn chairs, Ashton said, “I was so involved at Ralston Abbey that I didn’t realize your brother had died until I received your note. I’d met him a few times, but I didn’t know him well.”

“I hear a note in your voice that suggests you didn’t much like him.” Rob stirred a small chunk of sugar into his tea. “If you’d known Edmund better, you could have disliked him more.”

Ashton nodded. “I suspected as much. Rumor has it that your father and brother were deep in debt. Do you know how bad the situation is?”

“Not yet. I’ll have a better idea after I talk to the family lawyer.” Rob grimaced. “I don’t expect good news. While you’re here, can you ride over the estate with me? You’re enormously more knowledgeable about such matters than I am.”

“For you, anything,” Ashton said simply. “I’m still trying to work out a suitable reward for what you did.”

Rob did a swift mental calculation. “It was an expensive mission. Between my time and the acquisition of horses and sailboat, the total is probably near five hundred pounds. I’ll draw up an itemized account for you.”

“No need, and nowhere near enough.” Ashton shook his head. “I’m going to have nightmares forever about how close I came to losing my wife. Mariah would surely have died in the hands of the kidnappers if Sarah hadn’t had the courage and quick thinking to take her sister’s place. I owe Sarah even more than I owe you.”

“Some things are beyond price, so there’s no point in trying to figure out what they’re worth. I’ll settle for my usual fee.” Rob smiled. “I imagine Sarah will settle for being your son’s godmother.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can give you?”

“I could use a good temporary steward.” Rob tried one of the Welsh cakes that accompanied the tea. “The man here was embezzling and I had to discharge him.”

“Already? That was quick work on your part.”

“Sarah’s doing. While I interrogated the steward, she wandered around his office and looked at his books. She’d worked with her uncle, Lord Babcock, on his estate enough that she was able to spot a number of problems.”

Ashton laughed. “At which point you terrorized him into confessing and returning his ill-gotten gains?”

“More or less. I didn’t have him charged since Sarah pointed out that if he hadn’t been so ill supervised, he’d not have succumbed to temptation.” Rob took another couple of Welsh cakes. He must meet his cook. “But you can see that I need a steward who is honest as well as capable, and who’s willing to take a temporary post.”

Ashton thought. “The Ralston Abbey steward has an assistant, Crowell, who is very capable and would love the chance to be in charge of an estate. If things work out at Kellington and you want to offer him a permanent job, you have my blessing. I’ll send for him right away if you like.”

“I’d be most grateful. I assume he can return to you if I lose the estate?”

Ashton studied him thoughtfully. “It’s rare for a situation to be so dire that a peer of the realm loses an entailed estate. I’m not even sure that can happen under our laws. When a new man inherits and shows willing to reduce the debts, it should be possible to work matters out with the banks and other creditors. It wouldn’t be easy and it would take quite some time, but it shouldn’t be impossible.”

Rob refused to accept a stirring of hope. “Possibly, but I’m coming into the estate with no significant property or reputation to make such a thing happen.”

“I’ll stand surety for you.”

Rob stared. Such mild words for a huge act of faith. “Seriously? Kellington is a black abyss of debt and problems.”

“Perhaps, but I have faith in you to efficiently settle whatever problems you find,” Ashton said imperturbably. “When you talk to your solicitor, remember that you are not without resources.” He topped up his tea. “Speaking of Sarah, she told Mariah that when you two arrived here, she claimed to be your fiancée. Is that true?”

Feeling thin ice under his feet, Rob replied, “No, she just wanted authority to give orders while I was unconscious.”

Ashton’s brows rose. “Your journey sounds more and more interesting. But if word gets out that the two of you traveled together across Ireland, the situation will become complicated.”

“An understatement,” Rob said dryly. “If you’re wondering whether I seduced your sister-in-law, the answer is no.”

“If there was any seduction taking place, it would have been with Sarah’s enthusiastic participation.” Ashton’s eyes glinted. “Or even her initiation.”

Which raised some interesting questions about Mariah that Rob was not fool enough to ask. “I hoped her abduction wouldn’t become common knowledge, but that’s looking less likely.”

“You’ve gone from a very private life to a rather public one. People are far more likely to gossip about an earl than a thief taker.” Ashton lifted the teapot and topped up their cups. “I’m not a great believer in people marrying just to avoid scandal. But if a scandal does appear—well, the right woman could be very helpful as you establish yourself in your new position.”

In other words, a woman like Sarah. At least Ashton wasn’t pounding his fist and demanding Rob marry her to save her reputation. But fist pounding wasn’t his style, not to mention the fact that Ash must know Sarah deserved a more solvent husband. “If you’re asking obliquely whether I have any intentions toward Sarah,” Rob said wryly, “I should mention that she’s been coaching me on what to look for when hunting an heiress.”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “Would you marry for money? The advantages are obvious. The disadvantages rather less so.”

“Until I understand my financial situation, I’m in no position to even think about marriage.” Realizing he’d neglected an important piece of news, he continued, “A further complication is that yesterday I learned I have a daughter. She’s the child of the girl I wanted to marry when I lived here.”

Ashton was one of the few who knew Rob’s history. His brows rose. “What an unexpected gift. What about her mother?”

“Bryony died two years ago and our daughter, Bree, had been living with her ghastly grandfather.” Rob’s jaw set. “Now she’s here with me, and here she’ll stay. Not all potential wives would be happy about that.”

“Any woman you’d want as a wife will accept your daughter. What is she like?”

“Beautiful and fearless and eager to learn.” Rob smiled. “Like her mother.”

“My congratulations on the new member of your family.” Changing the subject, Ashton continued, “Several weeks ago, I attended Wyndham’s wedding. You know that he has emerged safely from France? He appears to be in very decent shape for a man who spent ten years in a French dungeon.”

“I knew he was back.” Rob had met Wyndham the same night he’d discovered that Cassie viewed their relationship very differently from the way he did. He’d wanted to kill Wyndham, the golden charmer to whom everything had come so easily.

Now Rob realized that the pain had faded. Cassie had been right: she and Rob were too much alike. “His wife, Cassie, was one of Kirkland’s people. Wyndham is a lucky man.”

“He is indeed.” Ashton’s voice was so neutral that Rob couldn’t decide if he knew about Rob’s relationship to Cassie or not. “The new Lady Wyndham is a ravishing redhead with a deep inner serenity. They . . . heal each other, I think.”

And both of them had needed healing. Ten years in prison must have matured Wyndham, maybe even made him good enough for Cassie.

For as long as Rob had known her, she’d dyed her hair drab brown. Now, finally, she was free to be herself.
Live long and happily, Cassie. You deserve it.

Thinking of her made him recognize that Cassie was the past, albeit one of the best parts of his past. What mattered now was the future.

 

 

“Much as I love Ralston Abbey, I envy Kellington’s sea views.” Mariah was perched on a padded window seat in the morning room. In theory, she was writing letters, but she spent more time gazing out to sea. Sarah didn’t mind; she enjoyed having her sister in the same room. They still had years of separation to catch up on.

“The sea isn’t so pleasant in winter with a gale blowing in from the Atlantic,” Lady Kellington said acidly as she set tiny stitches into the canvas stretched over her tambour frame. The frame was set by another window so she’d have strong enough light for her embroidery. “The wind will freeze your bones.”

“On a lovely spring day like this, it’s hard to remember winter’s fury,” Sarah said. Not that she’d ever forget the storm that had driven them into the rocks below Kellington Castle. That seemed like another world, though.

She’d had two blissful days since Mariah and Adam had arrived. Rob and Adam were off doing manly things around the estate while she was enjoying an afternoon of female companionship in the morning room.

“Bugger!” Bree muttered over her embroidery hoop.

“Language, girl!” Lady Kellington barked. “What is the problem?”

“I’m sorry, Lady K.,” Bree said meekly. “I don’t know how to do this stitch.”

“Bring it over and I’ll show you,” the countess ordered.

Sarah hid a smile as she applied herself to her mending. One of the many similarities she and Mariah shared was a lack of enthusiasm for needlework, though both were competent. However, Lady Kellington turned out to be a master of needlework skills, and in a twist that Sarah could never have predicted, she was now teaching Bree.

The dowager countess had emerged from her lair the day before. Clearly she approved of having a duke and duchess as guests, and the presence of the Ashtons might be raising her opinion of Rob.

She’d had no use for Bree at first, but if she wanted to sit with the other females, she needed to be civil since Sarah had invited Bree to join her and Mariah. Sarah suspected that Rob had insisted his grandmother be polite to his daughter.

By the end of the afternoon, an odd bond began to form between Lady Kellington and her bastard great-granddaughter. Bree had asked if she could do some embroidery since she’d learned basic needlework skills from her mother and enjoyed doing it. Lady Kellington had pulled a canvas from her basket and ordered Bree to work.

Sketched on the fabric was a floral design for a pillow. The girl stretched the canvas over a wooden hoop and started to embroider. Her swiftness and skill earned Lady Kellington’s grudging respect. Soon they were selecting silk thread colors together.

Sarah suspected that Lady Kellington had been lonely as well as grieving for her son and grandson. Having a great-granddaughter who was polite, if occasionally profane, was cheering her up.

“There’s a carriage arriving!” Mariah said excitedly. “I think it’s the parents come to see that you’re all right! And of course Mama wants to hold Richard.”

Sarah put her mending aside and joined Mariah at the window while Bree rose and looked out Lady Kellington’s window. Only the countess ignored the visitors.

“Yes, that’s Uncle Peter’s carriage. Mama is getting out, and now our father. Oh, look!” Sarah began to bounce. “It’s Uncle Peter himself! I haven’t seen him in so long!” She hopped from the window seat and headed for the door of the morning room, closely followed by Mariah.

“Acting like a pack of urchins,” Lady Kellington grumbled. “Bree, stay here and get on with your needlework.”

Bree hesitated, then obeyed, so only Sarah and Mariah scampered to the front hall to meet the visitors. After hugs and greetings all around, Mariah escorted the guests to the drawing room for refreshments while Sarah lingered to talk to the butler. “Do we have enough rooms made up, Hector?”

“We will by the time your family has finished with their refreshments,” he assured her. “I’ll tell the cook we’re having more guests.”

“Thank you. A good thing this house has so many bedrooms!” She discussed the arrangements with Hector in more detail, thinking it was odd how she’d slipped into acting as the lady of the house. When Sarah was gone, would such duties fall to Lady Kellington? She’d suggest to Rob that he hire a housekeeper to work with Hector.

They were about to leave the front hall when the knocker sounded smartly. “The house is becoming quite busy,” Hector murmured as he crossed to open the front door.

The door opened to a sturdy man with a weathered face and a wooden peg leg. “I’m here to see Carmichael,” he said in a cockney accent. “Him what is the new earl.”

Hector said in freezing tones, “What is your business with his lordship?”

Taking an educated guess, Sarah approached the man and said warmly, “Surely you must be Mr. Harvey, whose position defies easy classification?”

He cracked a smile. “Right you are, miss. Jeremiah Harvey. Are you the young lady he chased to Ireland for?”

“I am.” She offered her hand. “Sarah Clarke-Townsend, generally known as Sarah. Rob is off looking at fields or something of that nature, but he’ll be back by the end of the afternoon. May I offer you refreshment?”

He shook her hand gravely. “Nay, I had a pint and a pie at the local pub. I brought some of Rob’s—his lordship’s—clothing from London. If you point me toward his room, I’ll take his traps up.”

Sarah said to the bemused Hector, “Lord Kellington has told me about Mr. Harvey.” Turning back to the newcomer, she added, “He’ll be very glad you’re here. Hector, will you escort Mr. Harvey up to his lordship’s rooms?”

“I can use some help with the baggage,” Harvey added.

Hector bowed stiffly. “As you wish.”

As Harvey headed outside again, Sarah whispered to the butler, “Isn’t life more interesting now?”

Harvey said dourly, “You say that as if interesting is a good thing.”