Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(26)

The challenge could not go unanswered.

Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, Devon pondered the best way to annoy her.

Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote,

Madam,

I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful in these cooler days of autumn.

On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Eversby Priory to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability to find other ways of making the atmosphere at Eversby Priory appropriately grim and cheerless.

If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean that you are eager for my assistance, in which case I will be delighted to oblige you by coming to Hampshire at once.

Trenear

Kathleen’s reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates containing the black curtains.

My Lord,

In your concern for the downtrodden masses, it appears to have escaped your mind to inform me that you had arranged for a battalion of workmen to invade Eversby Priory. Even as I write, plumbers and carpenters wander freely throughout the house, tearing apart walls and floors and claiming that it is all by your leave.

The expense of plumbing is extravagant and unnecessary. The noise and lack of decorum is unwelcome, especially in a house of mourning.

I insist that this work discontinue at once.

Lady Trenear

Madam,

Every man has his limits. Mine happen to be drawn at outdoor privies.

The plumbing will continue.

Trenear

My Lord,

With so many improvements that are desperately needed on your lands, including repairs to laborers’ cottages, farm buildings, drainage systems, and enclosures, one must ask if your personal bodily comfort really outweighs all other considerations.

Lady Trenear

Madam,

In reply to your question,

Yes.

Trenear

“Oh, how I despise him,” Kathleen cried, slamming the letter onto the library table. Helen and the twins, who were poring over books of deportment and etiquette, all looked up at her quizzically.

“Trenear,” she explained with a scowl. “I informed him of the chaos he has caused, with all these workmen tramping up and down the staircases, and hammering and sawing at all hours of the day. But he doesn’t give a fig for anyone else’s comfort save his own.”

“I don’t mind the noise, actually,” Cassandra said. “It feels as if the house has come alive again.”

“I’m looking forward to the indoor water closets,” Pandora confessed sheepishly.

“Don’t tell me your loyalty has been bought for the price of a privy?” Kathleen demanded.

“Not just one privy,” Pandora said. “One for every floor, including the servants.”

Helen smiled at Kathleen. “It might be easier to tolerate a little inconvenience if we keep reminding ourselves of how pleasant it will be when it’s finished.”

The optimistic statement was punctuated by a series of thuds from downstairs that caused the floor to rattle.

“A little inconvenience?” Kathleen repeated with a snort. “It sounds as if the house is about to collapse.”

“They’re installing a boiler system,” Pandora said, flipping through a book. “It’s a set of two large copper cylinders filled with water pipes that are heated by gas burners. One never has to wait for the hot water – it comes at once through expansion pipes attached to the top of the boiler.”

“Pandora,” Kathleen asked suspiciously, “how do you know all that?”

“The master plumber explained it to me.”

“Dear,” Helen said gently, “it’s not seemly for you to converse with a man when you haven’t been introduced. Especially a laborer in our home.”

“But Helen, he’s old. He looks like Father Christmas.”

“Age has nothing to do with it,” Kathleen said crisply. “Pandora, you promised to abide by the rules.”

“I do,” Pandora protested, looking chagrined. “I follow all the rules that I can remember.”

“How is it that you remember the details of a plumbing system but not basic etiquette?”

“Because plumbing is more interesting.” Pandora bent her head over a book on deportment, pretending to focus on a chapter titled “A Lady’s Proper Demeanor.”

Kathleen contemplated the girl with concern. After a fortnight of tutelage, Pandora had made little headway compared to Cassandra, who had learned far more in the same length of time. Kathleen had also noticed that Cassandra was trying to conceal her own progress to avoid making Pandora look even worse. It had become clear that Pandora was by far the more undisciplined of the pair.

Just then Mrs. Church, the plump and genial housekeeper, came to inform them that tea would soon be brought to the upstairs parlor.

“Hurrah!” Pandora exclaimed, leaping from her chair. “I’m so famished, I could eat a carriage wheel.” She was gone in a flash.

Sending Kathleen an apologetic glance, Cassandra scampered after her sister.

Out of habit, Helen began to collect the books and papers, and sort them into stacks. Kathleen pushed the chairs back into place at the library table.