by Esther Hatch
“Quite right. It would have been too great a burden for certain.”
“And the hare? There is barely even any meat on a hare.” It had been frightened by his shot as well.
“That is true.”
“It is. I suppose I didn’t mean that there wasn’t any game here, just that there hasn’t been the right kind of game.”
“And what kind of game would that be, sir?”
“The kind that allows me to shoot it.”
Howard cleared his throat a third time. Jonathan might need a new valet.
“Miss Duncan.” Mrs. Hiddleson knocked softly on her bedroom door. “You’ve a visitor.”
Sally set down the plans for the front of the home and frowned. Who would come calling? She didn’t know anyone in the area and the nearest neighbors were miles away. A wet shirt and water dripping down from a lock of hair flashed in her memory. Lord Farnsworth? Surely not. What possible reason could he have for coming to her home? “Who is it?”
“Lord Farnsworth.”
She closed her eyes tightly. How much longer was the man going to remain near her property? By all accounts, he hadn’t ever felt the need to spend time here before she purchased it.
She stood and opened the door. “Where did you put him?”
“In the east parlor.”
“The east parlor?” Sally had just put her book of papers and a few mock-ups of Victoria’s rooms in there. It would be the first room she renovated after the stairs were done. “That is where I have all my work.”
Mrs. Hiddleson frowned. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t realize. Would you like me to move him?”
“No, I’ll go there now. The sooner the better.” Even now he could be looking at the drawings and plans for the east wing. Her book of wallpapers was there, complete with larger samples of the papers she knew Victoria would love.
Mrs. Hiddleson nodded and waited for her to take the lead. They strode through the corridor, and each second Sally was more and more certain Lord Farnsworth would be thumbing through her things. The man had no sense of propriety or boundaries. Were all titled men so completely unaware of a woman’s feelings? The two she knew certainly seemed to be. Mr. Harrison wasn’t technically titled yet, but he would be, and that had been reason enough for him to assume he could make all the decisions in their relationship.
“He brought you a housewarming gift. I sent it to Cook.” The words tumbled out of Mrs. Hiddleson’s mouth in a rush.
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
Sally furrowed her eyebrows. “What was it?”
Mrs. Hiddleson cleared her throat as if she would rather not answer. She sighed. “A squirrel.”
“A squirrel? Why on earth did he bring me a squirrel?”
“You will have to ask him. There wasn’t much left of it, but I suppose Cook will find something she can do with it.”
Sally’s stomach turned. The last thing she wanted to eat was squirrel. How did one even cook squirrel? Lord Farnsworth must mean something by the gift, but she couldn’t imagine what. A warning to stay away from the better game on his lands? She was no hunter. He hadn’t needed to worry about that. Perhaps a reminder that she was small game compared to him?
Mrs. Hiddleson opened the parlor door and, just as Sally had feared, Lord Farnsworth was rifling through her book of wallpapers. He stood when she entered, but he kept the book in his hands. She stomped over to him and pulled it from his grasp.
“What are these?”
“Papers.”
He raised his eyebrows. “For the walls?”
“Where else would I put them?”
“For Greenwood Manor?”
“Yes, for Greenwood Manor. Unlike yourself, I have but one home.”
“But have you seen them?” He pointed to the one still on top: a gaudy, deep red accented by gold flowers. And that one was the least of her concerns. The one with rotating angles of fish would certainly be too much for him to handle.
“Of course I have seen them. I am the one who brought them.”
“Even the one with the fish?”
Blast. “Have a seat, Lord Farnsworth.” Most of the furniture had stayed with the home, so none of the rooms were empty, even if they were outdated. “I am certain you aren’t here to concentrate on my papers for the walls.”
“I wasn’t, but now that I see them…” He paused. “No matter. As you said, it is your home to decorate as you see fit. This room hasn’t changed since I was last in it. Even the furniture.”
“Yes, well, it was included in the sale.”
He nodded and then eyed the book of papers in her hands. “Do you have plans for the library?”
She didn’t really have plans for the library, but something about the way he leaned forward in cautious interest made her want to pretend she did. “You saw the fish paper, didn’t you?”
His face went white. “You are going to paper the library in fish?”
She smiled. Perhaps Lord Farnsworth seeing her papers was not the worst thing in the world. What would a completely inept designer say? “We aren’t far from the sea. It seems fitting.”
“Not far from—” He sputtered, then stopped and swallowed. “When exactly do you plan to do the papers?”
She smiled. “We will do them one room at a time.” Lord Farnsworth relaxed slightly, his shoulders dropping and the line between his eyes softening to a wrinkle. “Starting with the library, of course.”
He coughed and then a muscle in his jaw clenched. After blinking a few times, he leaned forward in his chair as if to protest, but then stopped himself. He must have remembered this was her home, and if she wanted to paper the library in hippopotami, it was her prerogative. A perverse sense of pleasure at the sight of Lord Farnsworth so agitated overtook her. He had made her uncomfortable many times, not the least of which was their meeting at the pond, and it seemed as though papering the library was the perfect topic of conversation.
“I’m not certain we need a library, really. I have been debating removing the bookcases and repurposing the room as…” What type of environment would a strangely unfettered baron dislike? If he was used to swimming in ponds and pretending to be a pugilist, it would take no small thing to disquiet him. “I was thinking perhaps a menagerie.”
Lord Farnsworth stilled. He blinked several times and his hand tightened on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “A menagerie...in place of the library.”
“Of course.” The veins in his neck became more prominent as he clenched his jaw. His perfectly squared chin was even more conspicuous when frustration was on his face. She held in a smile. What was it about this man that made her want to disquiet him? “Why else would I paper the walls with fish?”
“And you would have live animals in this menagerie? Inside the home?”
There was something about watching this man, a peer of the realm, and one who had been given everything he wanted in life, nearly having a convulsion at the thought of her running amok with just one of his many homes that made her insides swell with jittery excitement. It was the same excitement she would feel whenever she signed a large contract for fabric. Men always thought they had the upper hand in these situations, and she loved proving them wrong.
“Of course we would have live animals; a few reptiles, some fish of course, and a moose.”
“A moose? Where would you find a moose? And have you seen one? They are hulking. One would never fit in the library.”
“You mean the menagerie.”
He ran a hand through his hair—it had been combed so nicely before—and then kept his hand at the back of his neck. “You know what I mean.”
“I’ve been thinking about having one shipped from the Americas. It is exciting, is it not? I never could have had a menagerie in my home in London.”
He removed his hand from his neck and ran it down his face. When he looked up at her, his eyebrows were furrowed, his expression pleading. “Perhaps you should wait a few months. Tearing out a library
seems like it would be a lot of work. Don’t you want to enjoy the property a little first?”
“I do, but I can’t help but think I will enjoy it even more once it has a menagerie.”
“I could help you build an outdoor menagerie in the garden. It seems like that would be a better place for it. Can you imagine a moose being stuck indoors all the time?”
“Well, of course my plan would include part of the garden. That is why the library is perfect for it. The doors that lead outside could be used as a passageway for some of the larger animals, like the moose and the snow leopard.”
He sat back in his chair, defeated. “You cannot be serious.”
Of course she wasn’t serious. What type of woman did he take her for that he would think she was at all serious? His offer of help proved he thought her completely incapable of managing a home by herself. Why else would he have shown up at the exact time she was taking possession? “Lord Farnsworth, why exactly are you here?”
“I brought you a housewarming gift. We are neighbors now, after all.”
Sally clenched her teeth together. She had not bargained on Lord Farnsworth being her neighbor. “But why a squirrel of all things?”
“Truthfully?”
“Please.”
“I’m not much of a hunter. I would have loved to bring you something much better, but it was all my valet and I could drum up.”
“You don’t hunt?” What the devil was he doing here? He was staying in the hunting lodge, for heaven’s sake. Had he come only to torment her? What had she ever done to him?
“Not usually. Obviously, I’m here hunting now, but it was my father who was a great hunter. To his utter disappointment, I never had a passion for it. But I did use my few skills to bag you a squirrel today.” A crooked smile spread on his face, making him look more like a neighborhood boy sharing a jest than a condescending baron. “I’m not sure what you will do with it.”
She would not be distracted by his neighborly charm. Something was very wrong, and the squirrel proved it. “So, you came to the hunting lodge and yet you do not like to hunt?”
Lord Farnsworth cleared his throat and shuffled around in his seat again. “Yes.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it so quickly his teeth clacked together. He leaned forward, as if he changed his mind and would talk, but then stood from his chair and paced in front of it. There really was only one explanation as to why he would be here. He must be trying to keep an eye on her. He never cared for the manor while it was his own, but now that it was hers, he suddenly needed to be certain she didn’t do anything upsetting to it.
If he thought she was the sort of woman to buy a home and then completely run it to ruin, who was she to disappoint him? From now on, she would make certain the baron was privy to all the worst of her plans. Somehow he would see the Sphinxes and the vases that Victoria had fallen in love with. She had every right to do whatever she wanted to with the manor. If he wanted to control what happened to it, he shouldn’t have squandered his money on things less important than this home.
Lord Farnsworth stopped his pacing and turned toward her. His arms raised as if he were about to place them on her shoulders, but then he dropped them. “I do have a reason for being here—a good one, I think, and I hope you will come to agree with me. I am hunting something, but I cannot tell you of it yet.”
What a strange thing to say. If he indeed were here to make certain she didn’t wreck the house, did he expect her thanks for his interference? Her lips curled. She supposed she would thank him for stopping her from doing something so ridiculous as putting in a menagerie. But he didn’t know that.
“And when do you think you will be able to tell me of it?”
His eyes scanned her face, pausing on her mouth, which still had her silly, vindictive grin on it. She quickly sucked her lips inside her mouth, but it was too late. He had already caught her smirk and had moved on to studying her eyes. His toe, which had been tapping a steady nervous beat, stilled, and his face relaxed into a hesitant half-smile. “Two weeks,” he said.
“Two more weeks?” A day or two of tormenting him with her plans would be more than enough, but two weeks? Victoria would be here by then and he would only get in the way.
His smile from earlier faltered slightly. “Perhaps three. Yes, three should be plenty.”
Three weeks? She never should have assumed the baron would stay away simply because he hadn’t been to the property in years. She should have specified in the bill of sale what times of year he could come, and she could have made certain she and Victoria were in London while he was here. The last thing Victoria needed was another gentleman muttering incomplete sentences to her like Mr. Harrison had done. The edges of Sally’s vision darkened. The sooner she got rid of Lord Farnsworth, the better.
Lord Farnsworth shuffled his feet, his head cocked to one side as he watched her distress. “At the very most four.”
“And what are you hoping for? Two weeks or four?”
“Me? I would rather make it two.” He leaned slightly forward. His eyes searched her face, and whatever he saw there made one corner of his mouth twitch upward. “I would much rather make it two.”
His declaration should have made her breathe easier, but he was near enough for her nose to catch the faintest scent of gunpowder. Could the two of them not have even one customary interaction? First he pretended to be something he was not, and then she caught him in a pond, and now he was bringing her a squirrel and conversing with her much too intimately. Still, she could handle his interfering for two weeks. “Well, then, I hope you get your wish.”
His eyes brightened. The man was full of all kinds of moods she could not follow. “As do I.”
Sally stood. “Thank you for your kind gift, Lord Farnsworth. I’m certain it will be…” What? Will be what? What exactly did one do with a squirrel? She couldn’t tell him it would be put to good use, for she in all honestly wasn’t even sure what that would mean. “Remembered. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in the lodge.”
He rose, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you dismissing me?”
“Dismissing seems like a strong term. You came to deliver a gift and I have received it. What else were you expecting?”
“I don’t know...a chance to get to know one another better?” His eyes shifted to the door as if he was worried she was about to throw him out of it. How long did he expect her to wait on him? His gift was...kind...she supposed, but there was work to be done. As entertaining as it was to ruffle a few of the resident lord’s feathers, she needed to get back to planning. And with Mrs. Merryweather on her way back to London to fetch Victoria, Sally wasn’t about to spend much time with Lord Farnsworth on her own. He could get the wrong idea and think she was trying to pursue him.
“Didn’t you say you were going to be here for two more weeks? I am certain we will have plenty of opportunities to see one another again.”
“You are certain?” He tipped his head to one side as if he wasn’t.
“Of course. We are neighbors, after all.” It was hard to think of a time when they might actually run into one another, but it was completely possible. She walked toward the door and he followed.
When they reached the foyer, Mrs. Hiddleson was waiting to see him out. Sally needed to see about employing a butler. She hadn’t expected guests yet and had been slow to go about looking for one.
Lord Farnsworth gave his farewell with a bow and a look in his eye that she couldn’t place. Disappointment? Boredom? He seemed distressed to be parting ways with her, but why? Hunting must not be keeping him entertained well enough. If that were the case, he should return to London, where there would be more than just one neighbor to interact with.
As the door shut behind him and Mrs. Hiddleson shuffled away, Sally shook her head and returned to the east parlor. She picked up the paper with the fish and squinted. Would she be mad to hang it in the library? She clicked her ton
gue and threw the paper back down on the side table. Victoria was starting to wear off on her. The library was a beautiful room as it was.
Still, if she could do it in two weeks before Lord Farnsworth left and show it to him, the look on his face might be worth the expense.
Chapter 6
Jonathan drummed his fingers on the small writing desk in the library of the hunting lodge. He was on his third day of waiting for Miss Duncan to return his call, but to no avail. It seemed three days was the absolute maximum number of days he could handle sitting alone in the lodge without going mad. She was probably busy planning her indoor-outdoor menagerie that would completely ruin the library.
She couldn’t have been serious. She couldn’t.
But why have samples of fish wallpaper if she wasn’t going to use fish wallpaper? He had heard so much about her excellent taste, and yet she was considering papering something in the manor with fish. Were all the textile merchants he talked to mad, or was Jonathan completely mistaken about what was stylish in decor?
He had certainly never seen any room papered with fish before.
Jonathan stood and eyed the door. He couldn't just sit in the lodge and wait for Miss Duncan to come to him. By the time she finally did, who knew what she might do to the manor? Whether it was stylish or not, the last thing he wanted was for the manor to be papered in any of those gaudy papers. The sooner he asked her to marry him, the better. The parlor seemed relatively unscathed, but he had no solid memories of it—that had been a room for guests. And Jonathan was never a guest. The manor had always been home.
And he still hadn’t been offered any tea. He had brought her a perfectly good squirrel; the least she could do was offer him some tea.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Jonathan straightened in his chair. Had Miss Duncan come at last? He smoothed down his hair and checked his cravat. “Yes.”
Howard cracked open the door. “Sorry to disturb you...”
“No need to be sorry. What is it?”
“I was wondering if you wanted me to send Robert into town to ask about getting a few more servants—specifically, a scullery maid and a cook.”
