Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(8)

“No. I didn’t come for Christmas.” He turned to face her. “The moment I found out the house was open I left for Cornwall at once, the holidays be damned. I came only to see to it the place is shut down for good.”

Thea gripped the side of the desk to stay upright as all the blood drained from her head at once. Oh, God. She’d known this day would come. She’d told herself she was prepared for it, but the moment he said those words aloud, she went dizzy with shock. “No. Please. You—you can’t do that, Ethan.”

“I’m not Ethan to you anymore. I’m the earl, Miss Sheridan, and I can, and will, shut down this house. I never come here. It’s too far from London, and it costs a bloody fortune to keep the place up.”

“This has nothing to do with the money.” Thea’s hand searched out the thin gold chain at her throat, and she traced her fingertips over it to calm herself. “You know it doesn’t—”

“You’ll need to inform the other servants at once,” he interrupted, not looking at her. “I plan to return to London within the week, so we’ll begin tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! But tomorrow is Christmas Day!”

“What of it?” He waved a hand toward the drawing-room. “You’ve had one celebration that nearly sent the house up in flames. I grant you it would be a neat way to get rid of the old pile, but not safe, for all that.”

“You expect me to tell your servants, on Christmas Day, that each and every one of them is going to lose their place?” Thea’s voice was shaking. “When shall I do it, Lord Devon? Before we leave for church in the morning, or shall I wait until Christmas dinner to let them all know we’re to be turned out of the only place many of us consider our home?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll see that they’re taken care of, of course. They’ll all get references, and a generous gift.”

“References to where? Cleves is a tiny village, my lord. This is the only estate for miles. It’s not just the servants who will suffer. The town won’t survive if you close down the house.”

“I’m sorry for it, but that’s not my concern.”

Thea stared at him, her fists clenched against the wave of sadness that washed over her. He’d looked like an angel as a boy, with his thickly-lashed blue eyes and that mass of unruly golden hair, and he was still so unbearably handsome it hurt to look at him, but if Ethan ever had been an angel, he wasn’t one anymore.

Dear God, what had happened to him? She wanted to believe he didn’t mean what he said, but his mouth was rigid, and his blue eyes were ice cold.

He did mean it. Every word.

She fought down a wave of panic. If she couldn’t find a way to convince him to keep Cleves Court open, the town would die a quick death. What would become of the orphanage, the children? Henry and George, and little Martha . . .

The orphanage! Of course. How could she have forgotten? “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be. This is—”

“Yes, yes. This is your house. You’ve made that clear enough, but you’ve arrived here at Christmastime with no warning at all. If you’d told me to expect you I’d have known not to enter into any obligations, but as it is—”

“Obligations?” He folded his arms across his chest and looked down his aristocratic nose at her. “What obligations would those be?”

Thea drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to care for what she had to say, but there was no help for it, and it would give her some time to figure out how to change his mind about Cleves Court. “To take charge of a few of the orphans until the orphanage roof can be repaired.”

“Orphans? What, you mean those two little brawling devils, and that wild-looking chit who tossed blazing raisins around my drawing room?”

“Henry, George, and their sister Martha, yes. They’re really very sweet children. A little high-spirited, perhaps, but lovely in their own ways—”

“Undo it.”

She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Undo it. Un-promise it. Find another place for them.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, my lord.”

“You keep saying that, Miss Sheridan. I don’t much care for it.”

“My apologies, but there is no other place for them. A tree came down on the orphanage roof during a severe storm last month. All the children had to be moved out. A few of them are staying with other families in Cleves, but we have the most room by far.”

“Take them to an inn, then. I’ll pay for it.”

Thea’s mouth fell open. “You want to leave three orphan children alone at a public house? At Christmas?”

He hesitated as if he were actually considering it, but then he threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, bloody hell. No, I suppose it won’t do.”

He had the grace to look somewhat ashamed of himself for making the suggestion, and Thea took the opportunity to press her advantage. “Even if we did put them up at the inn, I’m afraid it’s not that—”

“Don’t say you’re afraid it’s not that simple, Miss Sheridan. I beg you.”

“Very well, then I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that. Part of the building flooded when the roof collapsed. Many of the children lost all their belongings, and they had precious little to begin with. The entire village has been generous with funds to repair the roof, and with donations of food and clothing for the children, and we’re to host a few holiday events here at Cleves Court to thank them. It’s all arranged.”