What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(25)

As time went on, Brentmoor had uttered all the right words and persuaded her that he was a changed man because of her, and yet, somewhere deep inside there had always been a seed of doubt. She’d ignored it to her detriment.

“You seem pensive,” Colin said.

She didn’t want to waste the day thinking about Brentmoor. “I’ve had more time to ruminate than I ever wished. Today I’m going to make myself useful. Hopefully we will encounter a great deal of potential and very few problems.” Belatedly, she realized she’d revealed too much and made herself seem pathetic. So she added, “Mind, I rarely waste time ruminating.” Liar.

“I’m grateful for your assistance,” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve been inside. It feels strange,” he said.

Twenty-five years had elapsed. She hadn’t considered that he might feel apprehensive about entering the house, but it would be perfectly natural. He’d been only six years old when his mother had died, and his father had never returned here.

“Whatever we find, promise you won’t be disappointed,” Angeline said.

“To be honest, I expect the house will need numerous repairs. Whatever is wrong can be righted.” He paused and added, “Hopefully.”

Colin opened a door and led her inside the anteroom. There was a dusty marble fireplace and a large bookcase—floor to ceiling. After he set the hamper on the floor, he pulled back the covers over a large round mahogany table.

“It is in excellent condition,” she said.

“The carpet beneath is faded,” he said.

“That should have been rolled up and stored.”

“I believe my father left in some haste after my mother’s funeral.”

She felt a pinch in her chest at his words. Despite the many years that had elapsed, he must feel the void. Even in her exile to Paris, she’d read the news in English scandal sheets where his barely concealed identity and exploits were so easily discerned and served up a few weeks old like warmed-over gossip.

Angeline motioned Agnes and set her to dusting the anteroom. “There’s a sturdy ladder by the shelves. When you’re done, find me.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She turned to Colin. “We’ll need at least two footmen to lift the table and someone to move the carpet.”

With a sigh, Colin pulled out his notebook and pencil. “I’ll request the help of footmen or tenants.”

“I could make the notations while you inspect,” she said.

“Very well.” He gave her the notebook and pencil. Then he looked about. “There are marks on the walls where paintings must have hung.”

“Do you recall the paintings at all?” she said.

He shook his head. “It was long ago, and I was too young to pay attention. I imagine they’re in the attic.” He walked over to the fireplace. “There are no coals in the bin. Lord only knows what might be in that chimney.” He opened a tinderbox. “It’s empty. I’ll have to bring one the next time and see about having coals delivered. That way I can test the chimneys for any issues.”

She finished scribbling her notes and turned to the maid. Angeline noted the marks on the black-and-white checkerboard marble floor. It needed scrubbing. The carpets and the runners on the stairs were probably dusty and possibly faded as well, but for now, she would focus on the ground floor.

Colin looked up at the chandelier. “Cobwebs.”

Angeline shuddered.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I hate spiders.”

Devilment showed in his eyes as he walked his fingers along her arm.

She swatted his hand. “Stop that.”

His deep chuckle called to a wicked place inside of her.

“Speaking of cobwebs, you’ll need someone to clean the chandelier,” she said, adding that to her list.

“This way,” he said, indicating another room on the ground floor.

“Behold, the breakfast parlor,” he said as they entered.

She removed the covers, and he set the hamper on the bare table.

He pulled a chair back. “The cushions are faded.”

“I noticed the drapes are as well,” she said. “Before refurbishing anything, we should check to see if there are external blinds. If not, you’ll need to have them installed to protect furnishings and carpets from the sun.”

“Won’t that make it awfully dim?” he said.

“You’ll want it primarily for summer, and the blinds can be withdrawn up a pelmet when not in use.”

“There are shutters,” he said, “but they need to be repaired.” He sighed. “We’ve barely started, but it’s clear the work is going to be far more involved than I’d expected.”

“We don’t know the condition of the drawing room,” she said. “It’s possible the furnishings and carpets there are in better shape.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Once we’ve had a chance to inspect everything, we can decide which projects have the highest priority.”

He’d used the word we three times.

“Sorry,” he said. “I assumed you wished to continue to be involved, but you shouldn’t feel obligated.”

“I look forward to the challenge.” She already felt purposeful, and as a result her spirits had risen.