This was the end of their intimacy, she realized. Rob had just inherited a very public position. What he did would be watched and gossiped about. He’d hate that. Because he’d rescued her, she should make his new position as simple as possible. That meant a swift withdrawal from his presence and his life.
A lump in her throat, she stood on her toes and put her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Rob, for everything. Beginning but not ending with my life and freedom.” Then she kissed him.
She’d intended a quick, sincere good-bye kiss, but the instant their mouths touched, it became much more. Rob made a choked sound and pulled her into his arms, their bodies pressing together. In their nightclothes, only two layers of fabric separated them. She felt the heat and hardening desire of his body, the protective arms that had saved her again and again. The strong hands molding her body. She wanted to sink into him forever.
Suddenly she was cold and alone. Rob retreated several steps and swallowed hard. “Go, princess. Go now.”
She pressed her fingers to her mouth, still feeling the heat and desire. Forcing herself to be calm, she lowered her hand. “I know you don’t want this, Rob. But you will manage the responsibilities of Kellington well because you do everything well. Remember that when you feel overwhelmed.”
Then she turned jerkily and left the room.
Rob’s world had just become enormously complicated and stressful. She mustn’t make the stress and complications even worse. She owed him too much for that.
Chapter 18
After Sarah slipped from the room, her expression masked, Rob closed his eyes and tried to sort out his chaotic thoughts. Earl of Kellington. A title and burden he’d never expected and didn’t want.
Did it mean anything that after a dozen years avoiding the place like a leper colony, in the tempest he’d blindly headed home, like a pigeon returning to its nest? There were things he’d loved about Kellington when he was a boy.
And now it was his. He couldn’t walk away from his duty, but where to start?
By getting dressed. It was hard to look authoritative when wearing a too-short nightshirt. Even dressing would be a challenge since the clothing he’d worn when he stumbled into the castle was in tatters and the rest of his modest wardrobe was in London.
But Jonas had looked after him the night before, and he’d always been the practical sort. Rob opened the wardrobe and found an outfit that looked like it would fit. The garments were for a man his height, though broader in build. Probably the clothing was from Jonas’s own wardrobe since they were of similar height.
Before dressing, Rob washed up, then donned the linen shirt and buff breeches. He tried to avoid seeing himself in the mirror over the shaving stand, which showed why his grandmother thought him a rogue. His face was bruised and his hair was storm tossed and far too long. A few more days and he’d have a serious beard.
There was no razor, but he found a comb. He was trying to neaten his hair over the bandage when a knock sounded at the door. “It’s Jonas,” a familiar voice called.
Rob spun around. “Come in!”
The door opened, and Jonas entered. His red hair had darkened with time, but his round face and good-natured expression were instantly recognizable. “Good morning, my lord. Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to see how you’re faring after your shipwreck.”
Rob crossed the room with one hand extended. “If you keep calling me ‘my lord,’ there’s going to be trouble, Jonas!” As they shook hands, he clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Damn, but it’s good to see you! The only good thing about Kellington. You look well. Did you marry your sweet Annie?”
“Aye.” Jonas smiled. “Two children and a third on the way. There aren’t so many horses on the estate as there used to be, but enough to keep me busy.”
“Give my regards to Annie.” Rob grinned. “I never did understand what a girl so pretty saw in you.”
Jonas laughed. “What she saw in me is none of your business!”
Rob’s smile faded. “I still haven’t recovered from the shock of learning that I’m the latest Lord Kellington.”
“You didn’t know?” Jonas asked, surprised. “I thought that if you were alive, you’d hear about it right away. You used to keep track of everything.” He scowled. “Of course, there was no reason to think you were alive. You just vanished a dozen years ago. I thought you’d let me know that you were all right.”
“You had a right to expect that,” Rob said quietly. “But for a long time I was in no position to write and then I was in India for several years. I decided it was best for me to act as if my family didn’t exist, so I avoided all news of them. That included death notices.” Wanting to change the subject, Rob waved for Jonas to take a seat. “Thanks for finding me clothing. Did you lend me your Sunday best?”
Jonas nodded as he settled in a chair. “ ’Twas the best I could find on short notice. I brought a razor. I hope you know how to use it, since I’d not make a good valet.” He handed over a wooden box that contained shaving instruments.
“I wouldn’t know what to do with a valet.” Rob returned to the shaving stand and draped a towel around his neck, then lathered his face. “I owe you a new set of clothes, assuming the Kellington inheritance has enough money for that.” He carefully removed a swath of whiskers. “How bad are matters on the estate?”
Jonas’s humor vanished. “It’s common knowledge that the estate is in a bad way. The outbuildings are falling to pieces and the tenants’ properties have been neglected since your grandfather died. ’Twas said your brother wanted to break the entail so he could sell off some of the land, but he died before he could act on that.”
Rob’s grandfather must have been spinning in his grave over such heresy. “I presume the estate has a steward.”
“Aye, a Kentish fellow named Buckley.”
“A foreigner then,” Rob observed, knowing that anyone from more than a dozen miles away was considered foreign. “What is he like? Honest? Capable?”
Jonas grimaced. “He’s a fair hand at squeezing every farthing out of the estate. Whether he’s honest I can’t say. In the months after your father’s death, your brother never once came to Kellington.”
“He thought London was the center of the world. What about my grandmother? She had a house in Bath, didn’t she?”
“Aye, but in recent years, she’s been spending more time here. She’s a fearsome old lady, but it was good to have at least one member of the family in residence.”
Rob agreed. His grandmother had always despised him, but she had good sense, and wasn’t as mad about fashion and gambling as her son and Edmund.
“I’ll ride around the estate this morning to see how things look. Then I’ll talk to Buckley. I presume the stables still have a couple of decent riding hacks?”
Jonas nodded. “Your father’s horse isn’t showy, but he’s a sound beast with good manners. If your brother had taken Oakleaf to London, he’d probably still be alive. Word is that he had a high-strung, showy chestnut that threw him in traffic.”
That was Edmund—choosing style over quality. If he’d been riding a steadier mount, Rob wouldn’t be in this trouble now. “Sounds like Oakleaf will suit me. I’d like you to come along since you probably know the estate better than anyone.”
“I’ll do that. Will your intended be coming with us?” Jonas grinned. “Miss Clarke-Townsend is quite the fierce little lady. When I heard how she threw the dowager’s cane across the front hall, I fair fell about laughing.”
Rob turned and stared. “Sarah did what?”
“You collapsed in the front hall,” Jonas explained. “Your gran heard the commotion and came down. When she recognized you, she started poking you with her cane like you were a dead fish. About the third time she did it, your young lady grabbed the cane and threw it away, telling the dowager and Hector that as the new owner, you deserved respect and obedience.” He shook his head. “Wish I’d seen it myself. A maid was watching from upstairs, and she
made a round tale of it in the kitchen later.”
Naturally the return of the long-missing and presumed dead heir would be the main topic of conversation in the servants’ hall. Showing up with an apparent fiancée would send everyone below stairs wild. “I wish I’d seen that myself. Miss Clarke-Townsend is . . . quite remarkable.”
“And as pretty as my Annie. Is her sister really a duchess?”
Rob nodded. “She has very high connections.” But was quite remarkably down to earth when necessary. He finished shaving and wiped the last of the soap from his face. The bruises were even more visible now. “Miss Clarke-Townsend might wish to ride out with us, though she doesn’t have a riding habit.”
“I’ll dust off a sidesaddle then.”
Belatedly remembering what should have been his first task, Rob said, “I need to send messages to Sarah’s family and to London. I’ll write the letters after breakfast.”
Which would delay his ride over the estate. Already he could feel the complications of his new life chewing at him. He pulled on the brown coat, then sat and tugged on the boots, which were surprisingly comfortable. “With luck, I’ll be at the stables within the hour. Thank you for the information.”
His friend nodded as he got to his feet. “I’ll help any way I can, my lord.”
Rob caught his gaze. “I need old friends who call me Rob. Can you bear it?”
Jonas gave a half smile. “Easier than remembering to call you ‘my lord.’ Thank God you’re back and in charge, Rob. Kellington needs you.”
Jonas’s words were more weight on an already massive burden. Maybe Rob’s unwanted inheritance would look more manageable after he’d eaten. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had a proper meal in days. He liked bread and cheese, but he was ready for more variety.
He didn’t remember entering Kellington Castle the night before, but as he headed down to the breakfast parlor, the house was eerily familiar. Tired and shabby, but otherwise unchanged. His father and brother hadn’t cared enough about the house to make changes. They preferred to spend their money in town.
Once he reached the ground floor, he pivoted and headed to the breakfast parlor in the back of the house. Though it had been a dozen years since he’d set foot here, it was still his childhood home. Once he’d known every closet and chimney and servants’ staircase. With his excellent memory, he probably still did.
Though the house wasn’t wrecked, it was sad. Had it ever been happy? Yes, when his mother was alive. The best times were the summers at Kilvarra, the Kellington family estate in Ireland. Those days had ended when his mother died, a little before his eleventh birthday. She’d a sunny nature, and Rob and his father had adored her. Edmund didn’t, but he was usually off at school, so it was easy to ignore him.
Rob wondered if this house would ever be happy again.
Halfway to the breakfast room, he was intercepted by a portly man with an easy smile and cold eyes. “Lord Kellington!” The man bowed. “We’re all so glad to learn that you’re alive and taking up your responsibilities as the new earl. Permit me to introduce myself.”
“No need,” Rob said coolly. “You’d be the steward, Mr. Buckley, I think?”
The steward looked momentarily off balance by Rob’s knowledge. Recovering, he said, “Indeed I am, my lord. I imagine you’ll wish to discuss the estate and its revenues. I’d be happy to meet with you now, if it’s convenient.”
“It’s not convenient,” Rob said shortly. “I’ll have breakfast, then ride over the estate to get a sense of its condition. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“I’ll be happy to accompany you.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to become reacquainted with Kellington on my own.”
Buckley frowned, but bowed again. “As you wish, my lord. I’m at your service.”
“Yes, you are.” Rob was too hungry to be polite. “If you’ll excuse me . . .”
He moved past Buckley and entered the breakfast room. There was no sign of food or place settings. The room looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. He gritted his teeth with irritation. Wasn’t there anyone in the kitchen who realized that the new owner might like to be fed? He’d have to head down to the kitchen; surely there would be food there, even if he had to cook it himself.
His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door on the opposite side of the room. Sarah swept in, wearing a simple gown the shade of Devonshire cream and with her hair tied back to cascade over her shoulders in shining blond waves. She was so beautiful that all he could do was stare.
“Rob!” She gave a smile that lit up the room. “I’m glad to see you looking so well after our shipwreck.”
He felt as if the sun had emerged from behind storm clouds. “The feeling is mutual. You look splendid.”
“One of the maids, Francie, took me in hand.” Sarah indicated her dress. “She even basted a quick hem in this gown so it wouldn’t drag on the floor.” She turned to the servants entering the room behind her. “Hector, please put the covered dishes on the sideboard. Mary, the tea tray should go there also. We’ll serve ourselves this morning. I’ll consult with Lord Kellington about his preferences for the future.”
“Yes, Miss Clarke-Townsend.” Hector deftly laid out half a dozen covered dishes on the sideboard, set the table for two, then followed the kitchen maid out.
Rob lifted the cover from the nearest dish. Delicious-smelling golden sausages. He lifted two more covers. Eggs scrambled with herbs under one, potatoes cooked with onions under the other. “What magic have you worked?”
Sarah laughed. “No magic. The servants didn’t know what was expected of them, so I went down to the kitchen and explained.”
His brows arched. “That had to be more complicated than it sounds.”
“My mother ran her brother’s sizable household, so I learned how it’s done. She said one must always be polite and respectful to servants, but make it clear that the only imaginable outcome is for them to do as they’re ordered.” Sarah took a plate and headed toward the sideboard. “I’m starved, and you must be downright ravenous! This is the first proper meal we’ve had in ages.”
“A fact of which I’m very aware!”
After they’d filled their plates and Sarah had poured them tea, they settled on opposite sides of the table and ate like polite wolves. Rob couldn’t remember a meal he’d appreciated more. It didn’t hurt that Sarah was opposite him, looking beautiful and eating with refreshing gusto.
As Rob rose to get seconds, Sarah said, “When you entered the breakfast parlor, my first thought was how lordly you looked. Decent clothes and a shave make a remarkable difference, and you’ve certainly mastered the air of authority.”
“Credit for my appearance goes to Jonas, who lent me clothing and a razor.” Rob filled his plate again. “As for the authority, just before I reached the breakfast room, I was intercepted by Mr. Buckley, the steward. He was keen to speak to me as soon as possible. I was hungry and snappish, which must be why I arrived looking lordly.”
Sarah laughed. “Testiness isn’t required. What are your plans for the day?”
“Finish breakfast. Write to Ashton and my man Harvey in London. Do you want to send a message to your sister along with my letter?”
“Oh, yes.” Sarah topped up their teacups. “Who is your man Harvey? A valet?”
Rob paused, his fork in the air, as he thought. “His position is hard to define. He’s my friend and assistant in my duties as a Bow Street Runner. He runs my very modest establishment, but he’s no valet.”
“He sounds useful. Are you going to summon him to Kellington?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure he’ll come. He’s a Londoner to the bone.”
“I hope to get a chance to meet him.” Sarah spread pear preserves on her toast. “I wonder what Buckley wants to hide. His pressing desire to get your ear before anyone else sounds a little suspicious.”
“That remark is cynical but probably correct,” Rob said. “Which is
why first I’ll ride the estate without his telling me what to think. Jonas is coming. Will you join us?”
“I’d like that. I’ll see if Francie can find me a riding habit that comes somewhere close to fitting.” Sarah grinned mischievously. “If that’s not available, a boy’s outfit so I can scandalize Kellington Castle by riding astride.”
Her intimate glance made him smile. She’d looked delightful in her breeches when they were haring across Ireland. She was the most intrepid female....
The door opened and his grandmother marched in looking ready to join battle. Rob got to his feet, thinking that being unconscious the night before had at least spared him from having to talk to her. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m glad to see that you’re in good health.” A cool greeting for a grandmother he hadn’t seen in a dozen years, but the best he could manage given that she’d jabbed him with her cane as if he were a dead fish.
The dowager halted, her gaze sharp as she scanned him from head to foot. He stood rigid. She’d terrified him when he was a child; he discovered that age, experience, and a newly inherited peerage didn’t entirely eliminate that. A good thing he’d shaved.
“You’re less of a disgrace than last night, but you need to dress like a gentleman even if you aren’t one,” she snapped. “I’ll summon a tailor from London since you certainly can’t be seen in public without a new wardrobe. Full mourning, of course.”
Rob’s youthful fear dissipated in a rush of pure rage, but before he could explode, Sarah stood and said brightly, “Good morning, Lady Kellington. I apologize for not being properly turned out, but since we arrived here with only the clothes on our backs, we must be grateful for the kindness of your staff in outfitting us. Being shipwrecked was an interesting experience, but not one I care to repeat.”
Tirade interrupted, the dowager glared at her. Sarah smiled with unshakable sweetness. “Would you care for a cup of tea, Lady Kellington?”
After a moment of bafflement because Sarah wasn’t cowed, the countess said testily, “Tea would be welcome. Milk and a heaping spoon of sugar.”
Mary Jo Putney Page 13