Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(29)

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because that would require me to visit farms and discuss weather and livestock. As you know, I have no interest in animals unless they’re served with port wine sauce and a side of potatoes.”

“Go to Hampshire,” Devon said curtly. “Meet with the farmers, listen to their problems, and if you can manage it, fake some empathy. Afterward I want a report and a list of recommendations on how to improve the estate.”

Muttering in disgust, West stood and tugged at his wrinkled waistcoat. “My only recommendation for your estate,” he said as he left the room, “is to get rid of it.”

Chapter 8

Madam,

My sincere thanks for your offer to speak to the tenants regarding the drainage issues. However, since you are already burdened with many demands, I have sent my brother, Weston, to handle the problem. He will arrive at Eversby Priory on Wednesday, and stay for a fortnight. I have lectured him at length about gentlemanly conduct. If he causes you a moment’s distress, wire me and it will be resolved immediately.

My brother will arrive at the Alton rail station at noon on Saturday. I do hope you’ll send someone to collect him, since I feel certain no one else will want him.

Trenear

P.S. Did you really dye the shawl black?

My Lord,

Amid the daily tumult of construction, which is louder than an army corps of drums, your brother’s presence will likely go unnoticed.

We will fetch him on Wednesday.

Lady Trenear

In response to Kathleen’s letter, a telegram was delivered from the village post office on the morning of West’s scheduled arrival.

Madam,

You won’t be in mourning forever.

Trenear

Smiling absently, Kathleen set down the letter. She caught herself wishing, just for a moment, that Devon were coming to Hampshire instead of his brother. She scolded herself for the ridiculous thought. Sternly she reminded herself of how he had distressed and unnerved her. Not to mention the cacophony of plumbing installation that plagued her daily, at his insistence. And she would not overlook the way he had forced her to take down the mourning curtains – although privately she had to admit that everyone in the household, including the servants, took pleasure in the brightened rooms and unencumbered windows.

No, she didn’t want to see Devon. Not in the least. She was far too busy to spare a thought for him, or to ponder what the dark, clear blue shade of his eyes reminded her of… Bristol glass, perhaps… and she had already forgotten the feel of his hard arms around her and the rasp of his whisper in her ear… I have you… and that shiver-inducing scrape of his shaven bristle against her skin.

She had to wonder at Devon’s reasons for sending his brother to deal with the tenants. Kathleen had seen little of West during their previous visit, but what she had learned had not been promising. West was a drunkard, and would probably be more of a hindrance than a help. However, it was not her place to object. And since West was the next in line for the earldom, he might as well become familiar with the estate.

The twins and Helen were delighted by the prospect of West’s visit and had made a list of planned outings and activities. “I doubt he will have much time, if any, for amusements,” Kathleen warned them as they all sat in the family parlor with needlework. “Mr. Ravenel is here on a business matter, and the tenants need his attention far more than we do.”

“But Kathleen,” Cassandra said in concern, “we mustn’t let him work himself into exhaustion.”

Kathleen burst out laughing. “Darling, I doubt he’s ever worked a day in his life. Let’s not distract him on his first attempt.”

“Gentlemen aren’t supposed to work, are they?” Cassandra asked.

“Not really,” Kathleen admitted. “Men of nobility usually concern themselves with the management of their lands, or sometimes they dabble in politics.” Kathleen paused. “However, I think even a common workingman could be called a gentleman, if he is honorable and kind.”

“I agree,” Helen said.

“I wouldn’t mind working,” Pandora announced. “I could be a telegraph girl, or own a bookshop.”

“You could make hats,” Cassandra suggested sweetly, arranging her features in a horrid cross-eyed grimace, “and go mad.”

Pandora grinned. “People will watch me running in circles and flapping my arms, and they’ll say, ‘Oh, dear, Pandora’s a chicken today.’”

“And then I’ll remind them that you behaved that way before you ever started making hats,” Helen said serenely, her eyes twinkling.

Chuckling, Pandora plied her needle to mend a loose seam. “I shouldn’t like to work if it ever prevented me from doing exactly what I wished.”

“When you’re the lady of a great household,” Kathleen said in amusement, “you’ll have responsibilities that will occupy most of your time.”

“Then I won’t be the lady of a great household. I’ll live with Cassandra after she marries. Unless her husband forbids it, of course.”

“You silly,” Cassandra told her twin. “I would never marry a man who would keep us apart.”

Finishing the seam of a detachable white cuff, Pandora began to set it aside, and huffed as her skirt was tugged. “Fiddlesticks. Who has the scissors? I’ve sewed the mending to my dress again.”