Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(35)

“What is that?”

“A kind of fighting that developed in the streets of Old Paris. Quite vicious. My brother secretly hopes to be attacked by ruffians someday, but so far, no luck.”

Kathleen smiled. “What is the reason for all of his exertion?”

“To keep his temper under control.”

Her smile faded. “Do you have a temper as well?”

West laughed shortly. “Without a doubt. It’s only that I prefer to drink my demons to sleep rather than battle them.”

So did Theo, she thought, but kept it to herself. “I like you better sober,” she said.

West slid her an amused glance. “It’s only been half a day. Wait a bit longer, and you’ll change your mind.”

She didn’t, however. In the fortnight that followed, West continued to remain relatively sober, limiting his drinking to a glass of wine or two at dinner. His days were divided between visiting tenant farms, poring over rent books, reading books on agriculture, and adding page after page to the report he was writing for Devon.

At dinner one night he told them of his plan to visit many more tenants to form a comprehensive understanding of their problems. With each new piece of information, a picture of the estate’s true condition was forming – and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“On the other hand,” West concluded, “it’s not altogether hopeless, as long as Devon is doing his job.”

“What is his job?” Cassandra asked.

“Finding capital,” West told her. “A great deal of it.”

“It must be difficult for a gentleman to find money without working,” Pandora said. “Especially when all the criminals are trying to do the same thing.”

West drowned a grin in his goblet of water. “I have every faith,” he replied, “that my brother will either outsmart the criminals, or join them.” He turned his attention to Kathleen. “I realized this morning that I need to stay here a bit longer than I’d originally planned,” he said. “Another fortnight, or better yet, a month. There’s still too much I haven’t learned.”

“Stay then,” Kathleen said matter-of-factly.

West glanced at her in surprise. “You wouldn’t object?”

“Not if it will help the tenants.”

“What if I remained through Christmas?”

“Certainly,” she said without hesitation. “You have more claim to stay here than I do. But won’t you miss your life in town?”

West’s lips quirked as he glanced down at his plate. “I miss… certain things. However, there is much to do here, and my brother has a shortage of trustworthy advisors. In fact, few landowners of his rank seem to understand what they’re facing.”

“But you and Lord Trenear do?”

West grinned suddenly. “No, we don’t either. The only difference is, we know it.”

Chapter 10

“Cousin West,” Kathleen said a month later, fiercely pursuing him down the grand staircase, “stop running away. I want a word with you.”

West didn’t slow his pace. “Not while you’re chasing me like Attila the Hun.”

“Tell me why you did it.” She reached the bottom step at the same time he did and swung around to block his escape. “Kindly explain what deranged mode of thinking caused you to bring a pig into the house!”

Cornered, he resorted to honesty. “I wasn’t thinking. I was at John Potter’s farm, and he was about to cull the piglet because it was undersized.”

“A common practice, as I understand it,” she said curtly.

“The creature looked at me,” West protested. “It seemed to be smiling.”

“All pigs seem to be smiling. Their mouths are curved upwards.”

“I couldn’t help it; I had to bring him home.”

Kathleen shook her head disapprovingly as she looked at him. The twins had already bottle-fed the creature with a formula of cow’s milk whisked with raw egg, while Helen had lined a basket with soft cloth for it to sleep in. Now there was no getting rid of it.

“What do you intend for us to do with the pig once it’s full-grown?” she demanded.

West considered that. “Eat it?”

She let out an exasperated huff. “The girls have already named it Hamlet. Would you have us eat a family pet, Mr. Ravenel?”

“I would if it turned into bacon.” West smiled at her expression. “I’ll return the pig to the farmer when it’s weaned,” he offered.

“You can’t —”

He forestalled her by lifting his hand in a staying motion. “You’ll have to badger me later; I’ve no time for it now. I’m leaving for Alton Station, and I can’t miss the afternoon train.”

“Train? Where are you going?”

West dodged around her, heading to the front door. “I told you yesterday. I knew you weren’t listening.”

Kathleen glowered and followed him, thinking it would serve him right if bacon were eventually declared off-limits in the Ravenel household.

They paused beside the front receiving room, where workmen pulled up flooring planks and tossed them aside with noisy clatters. Elsewhere, the sound of incessant hammering peppered the air.