Now, though...now that there was no possibility whatsoever of catching sight of her and no possibility of bumping into her in the street or at an event, it seemed as though a little of the light had leached from his world.
He bit into his toast and chewed. This was ridiculous. He knew the Fentons would not return to Hertfordshire until the Season ended. He must banish Kitty from his thoughts and concentrate instead on learning about his new life. Then, when she came home to Fenton Hall, he would go and visit her.
‘I should like to meet with the steward today,’ he said to Uncle Grenville. ‘Carter, isn’t it? I’ll send a message to him to come up to the house at two o’clock.’
‘Yes. Joseph Carter. He should be here at that time anyway. He’s been working on the ledgers in the afternoons this week to ready them for you. He’s a good man and knows the business inside out—he’s been keeping the books ever since your father took him on, not long before I sold my commission and came home. Numbers have never been my forte—I much prefer the practical side of running the estates—and Gerald always had a haphazard approach to the finances, so Carter’s been a godsend.’
‘Very well. Tolly? Will you join us this morning? Your father has offered to show me around the estate.’
‘With pleasure. But allow me to finish breaking my fast first, or I shall likely fall off my horse and break my neck.’
* * *
As it happened, it was Adam who fell off his horse—a bay gelding by the name of Cracker—who reared up without warning as they rode along the lip of a steep-sided V-shaped river valley. Adam was taken by surprise, tumbling from the saddle and down the rock-strewn slope, and was only saved from a more severe bruising and a soaking in the River Kell by a clump of bushes a third of the way down the slope.
Tolly dismounted in a flash and scrambled down to Adam.
‘Are you hurt, Coz?’
Adam sat up and touched his forehead, wincing. His fingers, though, showed no sign of blood. ‘Only my pride. Although I dare say I shall sport some colourful bruises for the next few days.’ He squinted back up the slope and winced again. This time at the number of rocks protruding from the surface. ‘I dare say I should be grateful my skull is not broken.’
He scrambled to his feet and discovered, to his mortification, that his knees were like jelly.
‘Here. Sling your arm around my shoulders. I’ll help you to the top. What spooked your horse, I wonder? He is normally a steady sort.’
‘I have no idea.’
They reached the top of the slope to find Grenville had been joined by two men, one of them holding both riderless horses.
‘I am relieved to see you are not badly injured,’ Grenville said. ‘That could have been very nasty. This is Joseph Carter, by the way, and Eddings, one of the farmhands. They saw you fall and came running. And stopped your horses running off, incidentally. Left to me, they’d doubtless be halfway home by now—I was more worried about you, Nephew.’
Adam eyed him, tamping down a rush of suspicion. His uncle sounded sincere, but Adam was conscious he would be unlikely to shed many tears should a fatal accident befall the new Earl of Kelridge.
After exchanging greetings, Carter—a stolid-looking man of around forty, with a ruddy complexion—said, ‘I don’t know what could have come over the horse, to rear up in such a way.’
‘Likely them horse flies,’ Eddings said. ‘There’s been a plague of ’em lately and that’s a fact.’
‘That could be it,’ said Tolly. ‘Nothing a horse hates more than a horse fly buzzing around its ears. Never fails to spook ’em.’
‘True,’ said Grenville. ‘I was bitten by one once. Never forget it—I had a huge swelling on my arm. Must have been five inches across.’
Adam, his legs now steady, took Cracker’s reins from Carter. Before mounting, however, he checked the horse over, finding only a trickle of blood on his chest to support the theory of a bite.
‘I doubt we shall ever know for certain,’ he said. ‘Carter—are you coming up to the house later? I should like to go through the ledgers with you.’
‘Very well, milord. But may I say I am happy to carry on with the bookkeeping on your behalf? If that suits you, of course?’
The man sounded anxious. Understandable, perhaps, if he thought his job might be in jeopardy.
‘You may certainly continue as before, at least to begin with. Then we shall see how it goes, shall we?’
The man’s expression was unreadable. ‘Very good, milord.’
Carter and Eddings doffed their hats and walked off as Adam and Tolly remounted.
‘I suggest you’ve seen enough for today, Adam,’ said Grenville. ‘Let us return to the house.’
* * *
The next few days were ones of discovery for Adam, not least of which was the gradually emerging realisation that he could not simply banish Kitty from his life. She was in his thoughts constantly and visited his dreams whenever he managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep. More than ever, he felt the urgent need to talk to her. Properly. Not those whispered snatches of conversation they had managed in London, the result of which had been more questions to add to the list of things he did not understand.
How soon would the Fentons return from London? And when he called on them, how on earth could he get Kitty alone for long enough to get those answers he craved? He feared he was close to becoming obsessed not only by Kitty, but also by the need to understand.
His attempts to distract himself by learning more about the running of the estate were no more fruitful than his conjectures about Kitty. Uncle Grenville assured him he’d no need to worry his head over the day-to-day practicalities, insisting he had everything under control and that he would see the season through until harvest. Carter explained crop rotations and yields, and the basics of livestock husbandry, as well as showing Adam how the sales and purchase ledgers were kept but he, like Grenville, was reluctant to relinquish control. Conscious of his inexperience, Adam pored over the ledgers, but—between them and the figures thrown at him by Grenville and Carter, who often appeared to contradict one another—he made excruciatingly slow progress towards his aim of understanding the finer points of estate management.
The household staff stubbornly maintained a reserve in their dealings with Adam—deferring to Grenville and treating Tolly, clearly a great favourite, with more warmth than they ever showed Adam. The estate workers, no doubt sensing Adam’s ignorance, always turned to Carter or to Grenville when they needed an answer to a question or were looking for instructions.
Adam remained the outsider. He really could not blame the staff for their loyalty to his uncle and he knew it was up to him to work hard to gain their trust. His own father had clearly been unpopular and it was understandable the staff would fear the son would be like the father. Adam knew it was his responsibility to convince them he was different, but he had to battle the urge to turn his back on everything and return to Scotland every single morning. The only thing stopping him was his pride. He refused to tuck his tail between his legs and run away like a cowardly cur. He counselled himself to have patience, with both himself and with the rest of the people who lived and worked at Kelridge Place.
One decision he did make, however, was to write to Ma. Since Tolly had told him about his father Adam felt a growing need to heal the rift with his mother, so he sat at his writing bureau in his library one day and wrote to her, telling her he now understood why she had run away from his father even though he still didn’t quite understand why neither she nor Sir Angus had told him the truth once he reached adulthood. He begged her to visit him soon, reassuring her that he would not allow anyone—even Grenville—to be unwelcoming and he told her that Lady Datchworth—or Araminta Todmorden as Ma would remember her—was eager to be reacquainted with her and would she give her permission for him to pass on her address?
He wasn’t confid
ent Ma would accept his invitation but, if she did not, then he would damned well go up to Edinburgh himself and make sure he properly cleared the air between the two of them. He had just sealed the letter when Green entered.
‘A letter has been delivered from Fenton Hall, my lord.’
His heart thudded with anticipation. ‘Thank you, Green.’
Adam took the letter from the silver tray Green proffered, marvelling at the pomp required merely to hand a letter to a nobleman. But he remembered his vow not to be too hasty to change the way things were done. He was in an unfamiliar world and he must give himself more time to acclimatise to it before ploughing a furrow straight through their customs. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t say thank you when the occasion warranted it, refusing to be deterred by the sourness of the butler’s expression. Some of the lower servants were beginning to respond to his pleasantries with the odd smile, but only when Green was not around.
Adam broke the seal and read the letter, excitement stirring his blood. It was from Robert, who was now back at Fenton Hall, enquiring how Adam was settling into his new life and containing both an invitation for Adam to visit Fenton Hall, and a plea for a favour. Robert planned to build a second wing, to mirror the one built after the fire fifteen years before, and he begged Adam to advise him on the project...maybe, even, to draw up the plans for which, of course, he would suitably recompensed.
Robert’s letter continued.
I realise you might view my request as an imposition, when you no doubt have a great many matters requiring your attention at Kelridge Place, and I appreciate that such a favour as I ask would necessitate you staying here at Fenton Hall for several days, but there is no one I would rather trust to steer me straight on a project such as this.
This was just the fillip Adam needed: a chance to escape the Place and its tensions for a few days; a chance to clear his head and order his thoughts; and, finally—and his heart squeezed at the thought—he would see Kitty again. He would be staying in the same house as her. He would get that chance to discover exactly why she had been so desperate to escape her father’s house. More than that...he simply did not know, still not certain his interest in her was anything more than a nostalgic dream of the past, fuelled by a natural male interest in a beautiful woman. Still not confident that she would even entertain any revival of their youthful romance.
He sat back down at his desk and drew a fresh sheet of paper towards him.
Chapter Ten
In her cosy sitting room at Fenton Hall—where they had returned, on the orders of a furious Robert, within two days of Charis’s clandestine meeting with Lord Sampford—Kitty read through the words she had spent the past hour painstakingly writing. She grabbed the sheets of paper and ripped them in half and then, for good measure, she ripped them in half again before casting them across her desk, watching as a couple of pieces skimmed over the polished wood to the edge and fluttered to the floor. She propped her elbows on the desk and buried her head in her hands. No matter how hard she tried, she simply could not lose herself in her story. Her thoughts kept sliding away from her heroine’s dilemma and on to...
No! She shoved her chair back and stood up. This was nonsensical. A man she once knew, years ago, had reappeared in her life...but it was not even that, was it? For Adam was not in her life. He’d returned, but now he merely existed on the periphery of her life. Somewhere.
It’s not just somewhere, though, is it? It’s Kelridge Hall. It is not so very far away.
She put her hands over her ears as if she could block out that treacherous voice. But, of course, she could not. It was inside her head. It was always inside her head, reminding her, remembering. And, as time went on, she recalled more of the good times she and Adam had shared, overshadowing the one bad experience...the time he had walked away from her, callously abandoning her to her heartless father, who cared more about paying off his debts than he did about the daughter he had never forgiven for not being a son.
Her heart ached at the memory. If only Father had been an honourable man and acted as a father should, as a protector for his daughter, then she would never have had to humiliate herself by begging Adam to take her with him. Thank goodness Edgar—who had happened across her crying in the woods one day and had listened to the whole sorry tale—had rescued her. She had often wondered, afterwards, if she should have insisted on telling Adam about her father on that last day. On reflection, however, she was glad she had not. He might well have felt obliged to ‘rescue’ her and Kitty now understood the unbearable strain that would have put on their relationship. Although it had broken her heart, Adam’s abandonment of her had been for the best when his own heart had not been engaged.
His words came back to her, floating up from the depths of her memory. ‘I will still be an architect’s apprentice and you will still be an earl’s daughter.’
He had been right, however much she refused to believe it at the time. The disparity in their positions in society had been a chasm they would never have been able to bridge. And it had all worked out for the best. Edgar had been a decent husband and Kitty loved his children as she would her own, had she been blessed. She now barely noticed the dull ache at never having conceived a baby of her own. Neither prayers nor tears had ever produced the result she craved—a circumstance Edgar had never let her forget, with his monthly joke at her expense—and Kitty had eventually accepted the miracle she had longed for throughout her ten years of marriage would never happen.
She crossed to the window and gazed out across garden to the woodland in the distance. There, in those woods, she and Adam had met and, on the far side, lay her father’s land, now occupied by the new Lord Whitlock—her distant cousin—and his family. She had cut all ties with her father as soon as she was safely wed to Edgar, not wanting anything more to do with the man who had caused her such anguish, and he had passed away around the same time as Edgar had died.
Restless, she turned from the window. She’d take a turn about the gardens...cut a few blooms for her room...and hope the solution for that scene in her story might come to her. She knew from experience that remaining at her desk when the words refused to flow merely resulted in more frustration and more stilted prose. She headed for her bedchamber to fetch her shawl and bonnet, then went downstairs.
In the entrance hall, as she paused to tie the bonnet ribbons under her chin, Robert emerged from his business room.
‘Ah, well met, Stepmama. Are you going out?’
Kitty indicated her plain dress and faded shawl with a smile. ‘Only as far as the garden, you will be pleased to hear.’
‘Ah.’ Robert’s eyes danced. ‘Is the writing not co-operating this morning?’
Kitty gave him a resigned smile and shrugged, raising her eyebrows.
Robert grinned. ‘No need for words; I know what that look means. Never mind... I have good news for you.’ He gestured to his office. ‘Might you spare me a few moments of your time?’
Kitty walked ahead of Robert into the room and sat down, wondering if he’d received a communication from her publisher. Robert rounded his desk to sit opposite her and tapped a letter that lay on the surface of the desk.
‘This is from Kelridge.’
Hearing his name sucked the breath from her lungs. Good news? She did not trust herself to speak, merely nodded for Robert to continue.
‘Do you recall I spoke to you about building a new wing here at the Hall?’
Kitty frowned. ‘Yes. But I did not imagine you were serious. We have no need for more room here. Do we?’
A frown knit Robert’s forehead and he tugged at his earlobe. ‘I thought it time to look to the future. The house is adequate for us, but...in time, I shall marry. And I should like the Hall to be suitable for entertaining. I wish to build a wing with a ballroom on the ground floor and additional bedchambers and a nursery suite above.’
‘Well...’ Kitty quash
ed down the pain that threatened. It was inevitable this time would come... Charis would marry and move out and Robert, of course, would want to secure the future of the earldom and the estates. She adopted a teasing tone. ‘This is unlike you, Robert—planning ahead in such a serious way.’
She watched a blush rise to colour his cheeks and unease wormed through her stomach. Could she be wrong about Lady Phoebe? Surely Robert couldn’t be serious about such a woman? And yet...who else could it be?
‘Do you have a particular lady in mind?’
Robert’s colour deepened. ‘No. At least...no. Not really. I wish to prepare for the inevitable, that is all.’
Kitty bit back the questions she longed to throw at him. He was a grown man now. He would tell her when he was ready. But, one question she simply had to ask: ‘What has this to do with Lord Kelridge?’
‘I asked him to visit us, in order that I may pick his brains about my plans. You know...what is possible. What would not work.’
Kitty breathed easier. She might spend much of her time thinking about Adam, but that did not mean she wanted to meet him more than necessary. Kelridge Place was close enough to visit and return in a day, as that sneaky voice in her head persisted in reminding her. She would arrange to be out on the day Adam came to the Hall. It would be for the best. They seemed unable to meet without the past rearing its head and all that served was to stir anger and resentment in them both.
She closed her mind to the truth—that it also raised unbearable longing within her. False longing, as she had reminded herself ever since their last encounter at the Exeter Exchange. The Adam who was now Lord Kelridge was very different from the Adam she had known when she was seventeen and he was twenty-one. But her heart and her body could not be as easily directed as her mind. They remembered the Adam of old—the thrill of those clandestine meetings; the sublime pleasure of time spent in his arms; the heady rush of his lips on hers.
The Earl with the Secret Past Page 11