Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(101)

All other news from the estate pertains to drainage trenches and plumbing mishaps, none of it agreeable to relate.

I am anxious to know how you are taking the engagement between Helen and Winterborne. In the spirit of brotherly concern, I beg you to write soon, at least to tell me if murder is being planned.

Affectionately yours,

West

Kathleen took up a pen to reply, reflecting that she missed West more than she would have guessed. How strange it was that the drunken young rake who had come to Eversby Priory all those months ago should have become such a steadying presence in her life.

Dear West,

Upon Mr. Winterborne’s proposal to Helen last week, I will confess to initial thoughts of homicide. However, I realized that if I did away with Winterborne, I would also have to dispatch your brother, and that wouldn’t do. One murder may be justifiable in these circumstances, but two would be self-indulgent.

Helen is quiet and withdrawn, which is not what one expects of a girl who has just become engaged. It is obvious that she loathes the engagement ring, but she refuses to ask Winterborne to change it. Yesterday Winterborne decided to undertake all the planning and expenses of the wedding, so she’ll have no say in that either.

Winterborne dominates without even seeming to be aware of it. He’s like a great tree that casts a shade in which smaller trees can’t thrive.

Regardless, the wedding seems inevitable.

I’m resigned to the situation. At least, I’m trying to be.

Your brotherly concern is much appreciated, and returned with sisterly affection.

Ever yours,

Kathleen

Devon returned home late in the evening, filled with weary satisfaction.

The lease agreement with London Ironstone had been signed by both parties.

During the past week, Severin had turned the negotiations into a cat-and-mouse game. It had required inhuman discipline and a surplus of energy to contend with Severin’s accelerations, delays, surprises, and amendments. At several points, the lawyers had fallen silent while the two of them feuded and sparred. Finally Devon had been able to force the concessions he’d wanted, just as he had found himself considering the prospect of leaping across the table and strangling his friend. The infuriating part had been knowing that Severin, unlike anyone else in the room, had been having a perfectly splendid time.

Severin loved excitement, conflict, anything to entertain his voracious brain. Although people were drawn to him and he was invited everywhere, it was difficult to tolerate his feverish energy for long. Spending time with him was like attending a fireworks display: enjoyable for a short time, but fatiguing if it lasted for too long.

After the butler took his coat, hat, and gloves, Devon headed to the study for a much-needed drink. As he passed the stairs, he could hear traces of laughter and conversation from the upstairs drawing room, while the music box played a glimmering cascade of notes.

The study was lit by a single table lamp and a fire on the hearth. Kathleen’s small form was curled in the upholstered wing chair, her fingers forming slack loops around the stem of an empty wineglass. A pang of pleasure went through him as he saw that she wore the colorful shawl he’d given her. She stared pensively into the fire, flickers of light gilding the delicate line of her profile.

He’d had no time alone with her since Helen and Winterborne had become engaged. She had been quiet and disinclined to talk, obviously struggling with her unhappiness over the situation. Moreover, during the past week, the deal with London Ironstone had consumed Devon’s attention. It was too important for the estate: He hadn’t been able to risk failure. Now that the deal was signed, he intended to set his house in order.

As Devon entered the room, Kathleen looked up with a neutral expression.

“Hello. How did your meeting go?”

“The lease is signed,” he said, going to pour a glass of wine for himself at the sideboard.

“Did he agree to your terms?”

“The most important ones.”

“Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “I had no doubt that you would prevail.”

Devon smiled. “I had more than a few doubts. Severin is infinitely more experienced at business. However, I tried to compensate with pure stubbornness.” Gesturing with the wine decanter, he gave her a questioning glance.

“Thank you, but I’ve had enough.” She nodded toward the desk in the corner. “A telegram arrived for you just before dinner. It’s on the silver tray.”

He went to retrieve it, opening the gummed seal. Looking down at the message, he frowned curiously. “It’s from West.”

COME TO THE ESTATE WITHOUT DELAY

W.R.

“He wants me to go to Hampshire immediately,” Devon said, puzzled. “He doesn’t say why.”

Kathleen glanced at him with instant worry. “I hope it’s not bad news.”

“It’s no more than middling-bad, or he would have included an explanation. I’ll have to take the first train in the morning.”

Setting her empty glass aside, Kathleen stood and smoothed her skirts. She looked tired but lovely, a pucker of worry pinching the space between her brows. She spoke without looking at him. “My monthly courses started this morning. There is no baby. I knew you would wish to learn of it as soon as possible.”

Devon contemplated her silently.

Strangely, the relief he would have expected to feel wasn’t there. Only a sort of blank ambivalence. He should be falling to his knees in gratitude.