Sometimes a Rogue

by Mary Jo Putney

  Mr. Holt congratulated them on their upcoming nuptials, and was happy to hear that they wanted the ceremony to take place in the church, even though a special license meant it could be held anywhere. They walked through the church together. Rob had always liked its classic simplicity and Norman tower. Sarah had been right; this was the best place to marry. They picked five days later for the date to make sure that Harvey would be back with the license.

  As they drove away, leaving Bree at the vicarage for the rest of the afternoon, Rob asked, “Is my grandmother behaving? I presume she’ll be glad to see me making steps to secure the succession, but that doesn’t mean she’ll stop criticizing everyone in sight.”

  “She’s actually been quite helpful,” Sarah replied. “I think she enjoys the activity, as well as the knowledge that she’s the local expert on everything.”

  “I suppose she’s been bored,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s been pretty much alone here for most of the last couple of years, keeping an eye on the estate without help from my father or brother.” In addition, he suspected that even his curmudgeonly grandmother wasn’t proof against Sarah’s charm.

  “She ordered the servants to clean the master suite for us,” Sarah said. “Are you willing, or would you prefer to stay in other rooms with fewer memories?”

  Rob frowned, slowing the light carriage as they came up behind a farm wagon. “I wasn’t in those rooms often enough to have many memories. I do recall that they’re spacious and well laid out, with a bedroom each for the master and the mistress, two dressing areas, and a sitting room. Gloomy, though. Why not take a look and see what you think? Heaven knows the house has no shortage of space.”

  “I’ll see if the suite is livable or whether it will send us both into a melancholy.” She chuckled. “I wonder how many years will pass before I learn my way around Kellington Castle.”

  “Many. Carry a ball of yarn to mark your trail if you go into the farther reaches.”

  “I presume you are the fearsome Minotaur lurking in the center of the labyrinth?”

  “I try,” he said gravely.

  When she laughed, it occurred to him that there were few traits more endearing than a woman who appreciated one’s jokes. His humor was usually so dry that most people didn’t know he had any.

  He was tempted to take his betrothed on a drive so they could enjoy more of the spring day, but they both had too much to do, so he headed directly back to Kellington. As he drove into the stable yard he saw a strange horse tethered, and a tall man dressed in black was talking to Jonas.

  Rob halted the one-horse carriage and secured the reins. Before he could help Sarah down, the man in black turned. He was a Roman Catholic priest—and a man from the past. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Rob breathed when he saw the familiar face.

  “I don’t doubt it for a minute,” the newcomer said with a richly rolling Irish accent. He held his hand out. “I just learned that fortune decided to kick your arse.”

  “So it did, Patrick.” Rob shook the priest’s hand vigorously, enjoying the reunion even though he had a good idea what problems this visit would bring. “But watch your language, please. My fiancée is here.” He turned to the carriage and helped Sarah down.

  “Sorry, miss!” Patrick studied her, his gaze calculating under his outgoing manner. “Or would that be ‘my lady’?”

  She smiled. “ ‘Sarah’ will do. And you would be . . . ?”

  “Patrick Cassidy,” Rob said. “My companion in hell-raising when I visited Ireland as a boy, and my second cousin from the Catholic side of my mother’s family. Apparently Father Patrick now.”

  “In the flesh,” his cousin said genially. “Parish priest in your own lands.”

  Sarah’s gaze moved from Rob to Patrick and back. “I see the family resemblance. A pleasure to meet you, Father Patrick. I haven’t met much of Rob’s family.”

  But mentioning Rob’s lands changed the atmosphere from lighthearted to something darker. Rob said, “You’ll not be calling on me just to say hello.”

  “Indeed not. Is there a place where we can talk?”

  Rob hesitated. “The house is full of visitors.”

  “We can go to the much despised study,” Sarah suggested. “That’s private.”

  “I’ll take care of your horse,” Jonas said, moving forward to take hold of its bridle. “You take care of your business.”

  Patrick frowned at Sarah. “This is no matter for the lady.”

  “Sarah has been in Ireland. She can hear what you have to say.” Rob smiled faintly. “Having a lady present might prevent us from killing each other.”

  “A fair point, cousin.” Patrick’s tone was genial but wary.

  They reached the study, which was as dismal as ever. Considering how often Rob ended up in the place, perhaps he should do as Sarah suggested and fix the room up. A coat of whitewash would do wonders.

  As soon as they were private, Rob asked bluntly, “What do you want, Patrick?”

  “I can’t be visiting my own kin without an ulterior motive?” Patrick asked, his expressive face all innocence.

  “You must have jumped onto a packet ship from Dublin as soon as you heard I’d inherited,” Rob said dryly. “And you were just guessing that I’d be here. That suggests a pressing need.”

  His cousin’s blue eyes narrowed. “If you want blunt, boyo, you shall have it. People at your estate of Kilvarra are dying of hunger and neglect. Your father and brother did nothing except wring every damned penny they could from the tenants. I’m praying to God that you spent enough time at Kilvarra to care about the people, and be willing to make improvements.” His mouth twisted. “Is that straightforward enough?”

  “Impressively concise, especially for someone who was a master of tale-telling.” Rob never would have predicted that his cousin would become a priest, but it was said that the wild boys were often the ones who heard the call. “I’m guessing you have some suggestions for improving matters.”

  “Right you are. First, fire the steward, Mr. Paley. He’s a brute and bully and probably a thief.” From an inside pocket Patrick pulled a paper covered with small handwriting and tossed it on the desk. “On the packet, I wrote down instances of his bad behavior that I know of. There are many more.”

  Rob glanced at the list, frowning at still more evidence of what happened when bad men were given power and allowed to run loose. He passed the paper to Sarah, who acquired a matching frown as she read about the incidents.

  “If you’re telling me the truth about Paley, and I assume you are, he’ll be gone within a fortnight,” Rob said. “Is there anyone on the estate you trust to take over and do the job competently?”

  “No one there at the moment, but I’d suggest my brother Seamus. He’s ten years older than we are so you’ll not have seen much of him, but he’s working as a steward near Dundalk, and he’d like to come home now that our folks are getting along in years.”

  Nepotism, but probably of the productive sort. “Seamus sounds like a good choice, but before he gives notice, I should warn you that my inheritance is a disaster, and I’m guessing that all the unentailed property is mortgaged to the hilt. That probably includes Kilvarra. Though I can get rid of Paley, I may lose possession of the estate. I’ll probably know within the week just how bad things are.”

  Patrick, who had been looking optimistic, sighed heavily. “I should have known it was too good to be true. You’d be a better landlord than your father, but you’re saying you might not have the chance?”

  “I’m afraid not. Plus, some of the problems are going to be much harder to solve than firing a bad steward.”

  “ ’Tis the curse of Ireland that our fine soil can support a whole family with no more than a potato patch and a milk cow,” Patrick said gloomily. “That’s a larger problem for another day.”

  “Too many people for the available land,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “What about emigration? Would any of the tenants be willing to move to the colonies in hop
es of a better life?”

  Patrick looked bemused. Apparently he was another man who didn’t take her seriously at first. “There have been folk from Kilvarra who’ve moved to other lands and prospered, but that takes money.”

  “How much?” Sarah asked curiously.

  Patrick considered. “Maybe a hundred pounds a family. Enough to cover the cost of passage with enough left to get established in the new country. Less for single folk, of course. There are some who would do it, but it’s far too much money for most to find.”

  Sarah pursed her mouth. “Father Patrick, would you mind stepping out for a few minutes while I discuss something with Lord Kellington?”

  Patrick probably wasn’t used to pint-sized blondes asking him to leave the room, and he didn’t know if her wanting to talk to Rob was good or bad. But he rose obligingly and headed to the door. “As you wish, Miss Sarah. I won’t go far.”

  When the door closed and left them private, Sarah said, “The Irish property is special to you, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, because it was my mother’s home. She was always so happy to return for a visit with me in tow. Patrick and I and other local lads ran around like hellions. I spent enough time there to resent the way England treats the Irish.”

  His mouth twisted. “The hell of it is, I don’t know how much I can do to help the people at Kilvarra. If I have to sell or forfeit unentailed property in England, I know the tenants will probably be all right under new owners. Better than when my father and brother owned the property. But if I lose Kilvarra, the odds are that the new landlords will be no better than my father, and quite possibly worse.”

  “That’s what I suspected.” She took a deep breath. “Rob, use my portion to help people emigrate to places where they have a chance to build better lives. The money you retrieved from Buckley is needed here to help the Kellington tenants and just to keep the place running while you get sorted out. My two thousand pounds isn’t enough to save Kellington, but it can make a huge difference to the people of Kilvarra.”

  He stared at her, amazed at her generosity toward people she didn’t even know. “It would. But why are you even thinking to suggest this?”

  “Because Kilvarra is special to you,” she said gravely. “You’ll feel much happier if you can do something for them right away.”

  “You can read my mind of thoughts I haven’t even had yet,” he said ruefully. “It’s a good thought. I’ll start with a thousand pounds for emigration money. If enough people take me up on that, we’ll think about another thousand.” He raised his voice. “You can come in now, Patrick. Just in case you missed any of the details.”

  The door opened and his cousin entered, a wide grin on his handsome face. “What a very fine lady you’re marrying, Robert.”

  Sarah blinked. “You knew he’d be listening at the door?”

  “For something this important, of course.” Rob smiled at Sarah. “I’d do the same, you know, if I thought it needful. Not being a real gentleman has its advantages.”

  “I like that about you.” Sarah got to her feet. “Now that you’ve sorted out your business, I assume the two of you would like to catch up on the past over a few pints of good country ale?”

  “Definitely a mind reader,” Rob said. “I’d be most grateful if you could have a pitcher of the best ale brought here.”

  She nodded and turned to his cousin. “We’ll be getting married in five days. I do hope you’ll stay for the wedding, Father Patrick.”

  He hesitated. “I’d be delighted, but mightn’t it be a bit awkward to have a Catholic priest here? A blood relative of his lordship, no less?”

  “I’m thinking we should all begin as we wish to go on. As Rob’s cousin, you are welcome in our house.” She inclined her head and withdrew.

  His gaze admiring, Patrick watched her leave. “Now there’s a lass that could make a priest forget his vows.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Rob said coldly.

  “Can’t stop a man from thinking, even if he’s a priest,” Patrick said, his eyes twinkling before his expression turned serious. “You’ve chosen well, Rob. Especially since it sounds like you’ll need a good woman at your side.”

  “I’m lucky.” Rob realized he was beaming like a fool, so he made himself stop and return to business. “Do stay for the wedding, Patrick. The day after, you can head back to Ireland with my associate, Mr. Harvey. He’ll have full authority to act on my behalf, and he’s as shrewd as they come, so don’t be trying to pull any wool over his eyes. If what he finds confirms what you say, he’ll get rid of Paley and start talking to people about emigration. You can trust him as you do me.”

  His cousin studied him thoughtfully. “I don’t know what you’ve been up to these last dozen years, but you’re sounding very much like a lord.”

  Rob winced. “Is that good or bad?”

  “That depends on you,” Patrick said. “But you were a decent lad, and I think you’ll be a decent lord.”

  Rob hoped his cousin was right. The last thing he wanted was to be a lord in the style of his father and brother.

  Chapter 31

  After Sarah gave orders for provisions to be sent to the study and for another guest bedroom to be prepared, she went in search of her sister. Finding her in the library, she said, “I’m about to survey the master suite to find out if it’s livable. And if it’s awful now, whether it’s salvageable. Care to join me?”

  “I’d love to.” Mariah set aside her correspondence. “I often had to improve living quarters during the wandering years with Papa. Adam’s households are so well run that I never need to do anything of that nature, and I miss it.”

  Sarah laughed as she led the way upstairs. “Feel free to make suggestions. And thank you for lending me the Ralston head housemaid to accompany the temporary steward Adam is lending Rob. I’m hoping they’ll be here today.”

  “Since Mr. Crowell and Sally Hunt are keeping company, it made sense to invite them both. I hope that your finances will permit hiring them permanently. They’re both very good at their jobs and deserve top positions.”

  “We certainly need people like them.” They reached the master suite, which took up the whole eastern end of the floor. As Sarah unlocked the door, she remarked, “Rob said he remembers these rooms as spacious but gloomy.”

  “He was right about the gloom,” Mariah said as they stepped into the sitting room. “We start by opening those draperies. This room should have a sea view.”

  So it did, Sarah saw when she stopped coughing from the dust raised by opening the heavy draperies. They were layered velvet of a dismal gray green color. It was hard to imagine anyone choosing that shade voluntarily.

  She studied the sitting room. “This was expensively decorated at the height of the Egyptian craze. I’ve always found it unnerving to sit on sofas with crocodile feet.”

  “There’s the constant fear one will be bitten.” Mariah thoughtfully rubbed the sphinx head on a chair arm. “What an enormous amount of ugly, expensive furniture!”

  “I wouldn’t mind the ugliness so much if it was comfortable.” Sarah rapped the spiky excrescence on a chair back. “I hope Kellington Castle is like most great houses and that old furniture never leaves, it just moves to the attics. After we finish the survey here, we can take a look there. Onward to the master bedroom!”

  Mariah opened a door on the far end of the sitting room. “The crocodiles invaded here as well. Lord Nelson’s victory at the Battle of the Nile has much to apologize for.”

  “Plus the colors are dreadful. Do you suppose the gray green draperies are supposed to look like the muddy Nile River? Whatever the reason, they’re depressing.” She swung open a door. “I wonder if this door connects to the mistress’s room. No, it’s the earl’s dressing area. Complete with some very expensive garments that must have belonged to Rob’s father since his brother never came here after inheriting.”

  Mariah joined her. “His father’s valet would have inherit
ed most of the earl’s wardrobe in London. It’s rather sad to see clothing waiting for a man who won’t return.”

  “That’s a poetic way of looking at it,” Sarah said. “I look and see a lot of things that need to be packed away if Rob is to live in these rooms. I don’t think he’d enjoy reminders of his father. Let’s see where this door leads.”

  She opened it and gasped. “A bathing room! It’s as splendid as the ones in Ashton House. I’m glad the old earl aimed some of his extravagance in this direction.”

  “The tub is large enough for two.” Mariah opened another door. “And I see they were clever enough to install a water closet at the same time. Convenient!”

  “More examples of the old earl wasting money.” Sarah continued through the opposite door into the countess’s dressing room. She moved to a window and drew back the draperies. “The furniture looks like it might have been chosen by the earl’s first wife during the Gothic craze. Gloomy, but at least no crocodile feet.”

  Mariah touched the dry, long dead blossoms in a dusty vase. “Do you think this room has been locked and untouched since Rob’s mother died?”

  “Quite possibly. It’s more pleasant than the earl’s room. Cleaning and brighter draperies and bed hangings will make a huge difference.” Sarah imagined Rob scampering in to see his mother when he was a small boy, perhaps bringing flowers or other treasures. The room might have been gloomy, but love had warmed it. “Rob’s mother might have been the only person his father ever loved. After she died, he stopped caring about much of anything, which made him a very bad earl and landlord.”

  “It’s much healthier to have many kinds of love in one’s life.” Mariah crossed to one of the windows. “Instead of a sea view, this looks over the gardens. The room will be warmer than the other when the winter gales blow through.”

  Sarah eyed the canopy bed and had a swift, sizzling image of sharing it with Rob. Reining in her thoughts, she said, “Let’s see what we can find in the attics. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a matching set of Gothic furniture for the master’s room.”