by Sahara Kelly
Jeremy peeked around. “Sorry to disturb you, but it’s a letter from London. From Giles. The man who delivered it says he’s to wait for an answer.”
“All right,” nodded Royce, glad to have an excuse to leave the numbers aside for a bit.
Bringing the message across the room, Jeremy handed it to him, then walked back to the door. “Let me know when you have a reply ready.”
Royce was already opening the seal. “I will.”
He leaned back in his chair and blinked at the elegantly curved calligraphy. His lips quirked into a grin. “You write like you speak, you devil. Perfectly formed letters…let’s see where your usual sharp wit resides in all this…”
To Royce - and by default the residents of Wolfbridge,
My regards to you all. I trust matters are proceeding well and that you are all healthy, happy and taking care of Lady Gwyneth. I shall be writing to her separately, so this message is intended for you to distribute amongst your fellows as you will, Royce.
To the first matter - Fivetrees.
I have had some conversations with Sir Ragnor Withersby and his Lady. Neither wishes to take occupancy, as you already know, and are willing to entertain offers for the property. No other members of the Fairhurst family are interested, or have the capital to acquire it, and Baxter Fairhurst is reported to be permanently ensconced in Europe.
Although it sounds a logical proposition, Royce, I find myself unwilling to put my entire support behind your efforts. Firstly, from a financial perspective, it would be many years before Wolfbridge would see any kind of return on the investment. As you know, it’s a very large estate and the outlay would be considerable. Along with upkeep of the house itself - well, in my opinion, it is untenable.
However, I do have another option to which the Withersbys have endorsed.
Offer for the land.
There are quite a few useful acres that bound Wolfbridge land. Purchase these and enlarge Wolfbridge with the chance of a return within only a few years. Something to think about and discuss with Lady Gwyneth. I shall await your thoughts and decisions.
Now to the second matter - the bearer of this message.
I asked Harry McLennan to bring this letter to you. Firstly because he has my trust, and secondly because I believe he might fill Trick’s shoes at Wolfbridge.
While not a skilled horseman, Mr McLennan has had an interesting career not that far removed from your own. Briefly, he is the son of a dishonoured nobleman. He read law at University and became a solicitor, but joined the military in 1813 out of a sense of duty to his country.
He was badly injured, and upon his return to England spent a great deal of time recovering. He is all in one piece now, but his heart was no longer in the law. He has, as I understand it, wandered from here to there, finding work now and again, especially at estates where their affairs are muddled. His knowledge of the law, his affinity for details and, coincidentally, his experience with estate matters, all seem to point him in one direction…Wolfbridge.
I present this information to you with no ulterior motive. All decisions such as these I leave to you. I would simply ask that you meet with him and evaluate the possibilities.
I await your instructions as to Fivetrees, and also your opinion of Mr McLennan,
Sincerely,
Giles
Royce pursed his lips, then stood and walked to the door. “Jeremy, would you ask the messenger to come in?” he called.
The murmur of voices told him that Jeremy was doing just that, so he went back to his desk and leaned against it, watching the door.
Within moments a man stepped through it, then paused. “You wish to see me, sir?”
Royce looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “I do indeed. Please take a seat. We should talk.”
Chapter Five
Making her way downstairs for breakfast, Gwyneth was a little surprised to hear male voices coming from Royce’s study, largely because Jeremy was walking out of the parlour and Evan just appearing at the top of the stairs with a large teapot.
Gabriel, she knew, was coming down behind her, carrying Darcy.
“Royce is with someone?” She glanced at Jeremy as she walked in and allowed him to seat her at the table.
“A messenger. Big chap, arrived about half an hour ago with a message from Giles.”
A tickle of excitement ran through her. “That’s splendid. I am so pleased.”
“About what, my Lady?” Gabriel tilted his head as he too took a seat and put the little dog down so that he could find his favourite spot in the sunshine and snooze.
The others joined Gwyneth after making sure she had everything she needed to start her day.
“I’ve been hoping Giles would write to Royce,” she began, spreading butter on a hot scone. “You should know that I have thought about Fivetrees a lot recently and asked him what he thought about us purchasing it.”
That comment brought silence to the table.
“It’s not a terrible idea, is it?” Gwyneth looked at the three faces blinking in surprise.
“No, it sounds quite admirable,” replied Gabriel hesitantly. “But…”
“But it’s huge, Gwyneth,” added Evan. “The house alone. Thirty bedrooms or so?”
“Twenty-two, I think Trick said,” Jeremy commented. “But even so…”
“Mind you, the land is in good heart. At the moment, anyway. If it’s left to run wild…” Evan looked around. “Well, that won’t raise the price any.”
Interested at their responses, Gwyneth sipped her tea, watching their expressions. These men were her world now, her responsibility, her delight, and her passion. They probably never realised how much they gave back to her at moments like this, when their focus was turned to a matter of import to them all.
“I confess I can think of little that could be done with a house that size,” Gabriel mused. “It was too big for Fairhurst, I’m sure, but damned if he would ever acknowledge it.”
Jeremy nodded. “You’re right. It needs someone with a massive family, a massive staff and a tendency to entertain royalty.”
“Not someone I want near us,” declared Gwyneth. “I prefer our privacy.”
“Good point.” Evan waved the butter knife for emphasis. “You know these aristocrats. Always dropping by and wanting a cup of sugar.” His handsome face crinkled into a grin.
“Well, you could…”
What Gabriel was about to suggest faded away as the door opened to admit Royce and another man. Silence fell around the table as they all stared, broken by a timid woof as Darcy awoke to a strange presence in his world.
The newcomer was tall, a smidgen taller than Royce, but there the resemblance ended. Hair, black as night, tumbled to his broad shoulders, and eyes of deep brown met their stares from beneath thick eyebrows.
Gwyneth forgot to breathe for a moment as she met those eyes, caught like a deer in the gaze of a hunter. He was…mesmerising. And the generally pleasing proportions of his body merely emphasised that air of suppressed…something.
“I have had a message from Giles, my Lady,” said Royce calmly. “It was brought by Mr Harry McLennan, here, and since he had a long and arduous ride from London, I’d like your permission to allow him to break his fast here at our table.”
Gwyneth rose. “Of course. We’d be more than happy to welcome you, Mr McLennan. You must sit and have tea. And then, if you would, tell us about Giles? He is very dear to us, as you may have guessed.”
He walked to her, took her hand and bowed low. “You are as kind as you are beautiful, my Lady. I can only beg your forgiveness for my appearance. It was indeed a long ride.” He raised her hand and gently touched his lips to her knuckles.
Gwyneth’s breath caught for a second. Managing a smile, she glanced at Royce. “Perhaps we should offer a chamber to Mr McLennan so that he might clean away the dust of the journey?”
“A good notion.” He turned to where Jeremy had already risen. “The second guest room?�
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“Is ready for an occupant,” he grinned. “If you’d come with me, Mr McLennan, I’ll show you the way. And have everyone promise to leave some scones for us.”
“We’ll try,” chuckled Gabriel, reaching for his third.
“Thank you. You’re all very gracious.” McLennan bowed and followed Jeremy.
“Well.” Gwyneth looked pointedly at Royce. “Can you tell us what all this is about?”
“I’ll relay Giles’s pertinent information when they come back. In the meantime,” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “Giles has suggested we might add McLennan to our…our…household.” He gave a slight nod, as if to applaud himself for finding the appropriate word.
“Hmm.” Gwyneth’s mind whirled, and she paid little attention to Gabriel’s surprised comments or Evan’s level questions.
Her thoughts drifted. Could she live with a new man in the house? What would he do? And after all the practicalities had been settled, she could not avoid the biggest question of all.
Could she take him to her bed?
She relived those moments when their eyes had clashed in a gaze that had sparked something inside her. He looked…fierce, in some ways. As if he knew what a woman wanted and wouldn’t hesitate to give it to her while taking what he wanted at the same time.
Rough, perhaps, but if his passions were as sensual as his gaze, then…then…yes, she would take him. Or let him take her.
Something low and warm spread through her belly, and it wasn’t Evan’s breakfast.
Fighting to control her emotions, she allowed the rest of the conversations back into her mind, scooping up Darcy and rubbing his ears to help her focus.
“So, my Lady. Thoughts?” Royce leaned back, his gaze meeting hers. For one moment she had the uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly what she’d been contemplating.
However, she managed to repress a giveaway blush. “I would want to know what skills he brings with him, of course,” she said in a calm and practical tone. “Also, if he has commitments or connections elsewhere? Family perhaps? Would he be free to live here unencumbered, like the rest of us?”
“I doubt Giles would have suggested him if that were not the case, but you raise a valid point.” Royce nodded in approval.
“Do you think he understands Wolfbridge?” Gabriel’s question needed no clarification.
“I can’t say,” Royce answered. “I don’t know how much Giles has told him. That would be something I’d need to learn, as well.”
“My Lady?” Evan turned his head to her and the others followed suit.
Gwyneth swallowed and took a deep breath. “I think we should invite him and see what he says.” She looked around the table. “I cannot believe Giles would send someone who is a bad fit for our home. So, pending his replies to the questions we have, and assuming he’d be interested in joining us, then I say yes.”
*~~*~~*
Harry McLennan walked back into the parlour to discover himself confronted with four pairs of eyes eagerly surveying him.
The urge to straighten his cravat was overwhelming, but he fought it back and simply dipped his head toward the beautiful woman.
“My Lady.” He bowed. “I find myself much refreshed. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She smiled, her brown eyes warming beneath a band of curly chestnut hair, the rest of which was pulled into a simple knot at the top of her head.
“I am glad you’re more comfortable, sir. Come join us as we savour these delicious scones.”
“Made by Evan, I believe?” He glanced at the two men already seated.
“That would be me,” grinned one of them.
“His culinary skills are outstanding,” endorsed the other—whose pale blond hair and fair complexion stood out from his companions. “I’m Gabriel. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Mine is the pleasure, sir. This is indeed a charming room, and yes…” he eagerly bit into a scone and chewed with enjoyment, “the scones are magnificent.”
“Told you so,” laughed Jeremy, taking the last empty seat.
“So,” Royce leaned back in his chair, teacup at his elbow. “If you’ll allow me, Mr McLennan, I must relay the contents of the message you so kindly brought from Giles to us. It concerns matters of importance to Wolfbridge.”
“Would you like me to leave?” Harry looked around him, ready to make his departure.
“No, on the contrary. I think it’s important that you remain.”
Harry nodded. “Very well.”
“Royce, please tell us what Giles said?” Lady Gwyneth looked at him, her face betraying her interest.
“All right.” Royce nodded. “To give Mr McLennan a little background here, there is a neighbouring estate, Fivetrees, which has been untenanted for quite some time now, due to the unfortunate death of its owner. Currently his niece and her husband have domain over the property, but neither are interested in living there, since they have their own home now. A nice one, too, since she married Sir Ragnor Withersby.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but simply listened.
“Our Lady here has a thought to purchase it and add to Wolfbridge’s holdings.”
At that, his eyebrows rose. “Really.”
“You have a comment, sir?”
“I have no knowledge of the details, my Lady,” he answered, “so I feel it would be unwise of me to express an opinion.”
She chuckled. “Here, we value everyone’s thoughts, no matter their level of familiarity with the topic. So please share your feelings about this business. An unenlightened perspective might be a help…”
Surprised at this, Harry thought carefully. “Well, my first reaction is that purchasing such an estate is a long and complicated business, involving a great deal of research as to other potential members of the family associated with it. Entails and other legal matters would have to be investigated, and by the time that end of the transaction is finished, you have added what might be several thousand pounds to the purchase price.” He shrugged. “That would be my initial concern if you decide to proceed.”
“And are there others?” Royce tilted his head to one side.
He was genuinely interested, realised Harry with pleasure. It had been a while since he’d really had someone of Royce’s obvious intelligence listen to his opinions.
So he briefly detailed some of the other legalities, then sketched an imaginary sale, asking them to replace it with this Fivetrees property. He quoted them recent sales prices, staffing prices and other financial burdens, including any taxes that might be in arrears. He touched on its current condition, and the matter of the land around it.
“All in all, I wouldn’t recommend such a purchase at this time, unless there are definite indications that there is more value to the property than is evident right now.”
“You mean like somebody finding a coal mine in one of the fields? Or perhaps a new canal being created from the river?”
“There was some talk of that a while ago,” said Gabriel. “Turning the river into a canal.”
“Always helpful,” replied Harry. “But talk is one thing. Firm plans are another.”
He watched the faces around the table and sipped tea as they talked over the whole matter. This was not a household of nitwits or arrogant aristocrats.
He was surprised at the way everyone contributed their thoughts, even as he wondered at the familiarity of this small group. Giles had told him that Wolfbridge was a ‘unique establishment’, and hinted that he, Harry, might fit in.
But the always inscrutable Giles hadn’t begun to touch on the truth of the matter. Harry knew there was something very different about these people.
And it was something he found himself responding to.
They were—friends, he thought, close to each other, knit tightly into a unit. They disagreed without hesitation, argued, laughed and listened.
The eyes of the men lingered on Lady Gwyneth, a small but powerful figure, with a body designed for
a man’s hands. Her personality glowed in her smile, her affection for them undeniable.
Giles was right. This was a unique establishment, but would they offer him a position? He found himself wondering how or where he would fit in.
Jeremy appeared to have the entire manor under his command. It had only taken a few minutes of conversation on the way up the stairs to accept that the man knew every inch of the place. He might have been titled footman, but he was not the kind that only appeared when necessary.
Evan was, without doubt, a very fine cook indeed if his scones were any indication. But again, he was not a cook relegated to his pots and pans in the kitchen. This man had the run of the house and the respect of its residents.
And Gabriel? Gabriel worshipped his mistress. The sweet affection in his gaze as he poured tea for the lady, or picked up her napkin before she realised it had fallen…well, if that wasn’t love, then Harry was an Indian Maharaja.
Royce, he’d been told, was the butler.
But no butler he’d ever met had quite such a commanding demeanour. No, Royce was—first and foremost—a leader. Military, of course, since he and Harry had touched on that topic earlier when alone. One could tell by his bearing and the strength of his personality.
The others, even her Ladyship, deferred to his suggestions now and again.
He found himself wondering if he would have been so grievously injured had Royce commanded his regiment.
“So,” Lady Gwyneth stood, setting down her little pup. “We’re agreed then.” She glanced across the table. “If you would be so good as to write to Giles and ask him to begin the process of establishing an available acreage, we will do our best to add to Wolfbridge by purchasing whatever acreage the Withersbys deem appropriate.”
She turned to Harry. “Does that meet with your approval, sir?”
He nodded. “An excellent solution, Ma’am.”
“I’m pleased you agree.” She walked to his side. “Now. There is one other matter, Mr McLennan.” She gazed at him, her lips slightly curved in a gentle smile. “Do you have family?”
“No.” His answer was abrupt, but honest. There was nobody left in his line.