10.
The earl of Clanross drove himself to Earl's Brecon in the gig. It was evening, the fourth week of April, still light out but fading fast. He drove to the inn where a groom leapt to serve him. Tom dismounted, rubbing his sore back, and, after the requisite orders had been given, made his way to the cottage his steward leased from the estate.
It had a blue door. The fresh coat of paint was a consequence of the flood, no doubt. A light shone in the window, so Sholto was home. Tom had thought he might be. He rapped on the door with the knob of his walking stick.
"Come in." Sholto yanked the door wide and stepped aside when he saw who stood there. "My lord!"
Tom ducked his head and entered.
They shook hands, though they'd met that morning in the estate office to discuss the consequences of the flood. Sholto had had no warning of Tom's arrival the previous evening, but the books were in good order as usual, and Tom found the work undertaken to strengthen the bank both impressive and interesting when they walked out for an inspection of the lake shore. For the record, they also took a good look at Liz's telescope. They were accompanied by Sholto's young assistants and did not speak privately.
Now Sholto offered him tea or whisky, and Tom declined both. The cottage was neat as a pin and bright with fresh whitewash, but it looked rather bare and spare.
"Not had time to refurnish since the flood?"
"No, sir." He indicated that Tom should take the one reading chair. An oil lamp burnt on the table beside it with the remains of a meal on a tray. A book lay face down on the seat.
Tom removed it and seated himself. "Rereading Newton, eh?" He handed the younger man the book.
"I find the principles of natural history soothing." He laid the book on the mantel.
"D'ye need soothing, Sandy?"
Sholto pulled a chair from the kitchen area for himself and sat. He didn't answer at once. At last he said, "I'm well enough. I must congratulate you on passage of the relief bill."
"Relief is the right word," Tom said lightly.
"You could have sent for me if there was something I forgot this morning, my lord."
"I thought we were on better terms. Can you not guess why I've come?"
"No, my...Clanross."
"I've come to ask for your hand in marriage."
About the Author
Born in Montana, raised in eastern Oregon, I have masters degrees from UW and PSU. I taught many years at Clark College in Vancouver and retired to write full-time. I published four regencies with Walker. Three of them, The Bar Sinister, Lady Elizabeth's Comet, and Love & Folly form a trilogy in that order, with two overlapping families and lots of Napoleonic era history. I'm delighted that the Conway Trilogy is finally available from Uncial Press. Many readers didn't realize the books were connected. I also write mysteries (five from St. Martin's, now coming out from Uncial Press), and the current Latouche County series. The newest of those, Beyond Confusion, comes out in April 2013 from Perseverance Press. I like travel and cooking, history and archaeology. I'm married to Mick, who is a computer genius among his other wonderful qualities, and a fine photographer. My son Eric is married to a lady who breeds Ibizan hounds. Happily for me, Eric and Rose (and the pooches) live nearby.
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