The Trouble with Love (Distinguished Rogues Book 8)

by Heather Boyd

  The marquess fell silent for a long while. Eventually he nodded. “That is actually a good idea. We’ll have a party tomorrow when the other guests arrive. The children can come and go at will and be as noisy as they like. Thank you, Whitney. I know you don’t care for the man, but you’ve a great heart and courage to speak up.”

  Whitney sighed. She might like Everett more if he wasn’t marrying someone else. “We can continue with the portrait later today when you have time.”

  When Taverham announced the idea of an outdoor luncheon to his wife and son, the pair were greatly enthused and they all went away. Whitney straightened up the room, repositioned pillows on the long chaise the family had been sitting on. She returned to cleaning her paintbrushes on Lord Acton’s breeches, covered the canvas from idle viewing, and tried not to think about what might happen tomorrow.

  Lord Acton was full of unexpected surprises lately. He had made her feel quite good about herself. They were friends now, and Whitney always took good care of her friends.

  Whitney had a lot of male acquaintances, but her friendship with Lord Acton felt different. But then again, she’d not almost shared a bed with any of the others.

  That made her reasons for offering friendship with Acton complicated. She liked looking at him. She liked talking to him, but his impending marriage cast a pall over every conversation. He was making a mistake marrying Miss Quartermane. Couldn’t he see the woman was wrong for him?

  Alice only cared about being a countess. Gaining a title and the distinction that came with it for her family had always been her goal. She didn’t even like or want children, which was of course a common reason any man took a wife.

  Whitney had trouble believing now that Acton only wanted a wife for the size of her dowry, but there was every chance she didn’t know him as well as she believed. He was quite introspective here in the countryside, and kinder to those with less distinction than he seemed to be when in London.

  His friendship with the Blakes, a rough-looking blacksmith and his hotheaded wife, was proof of his good heart. He deserved more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Everett spread the map of the continent across his desk and traced the journey from England to Florence with his fingertip. So far to go for a woman alone with two strangers for protection.

  Emily had initially been nervous about leaving London society behind at first, but had quickly changed her mind as they’d made firmer plans that included Taverham.

  His new friend Whitney Crewe was boldly enthusiastic, and seemed to take the potential challenges she might face in her stride.

  At least for now. Who knows what might happen to her?

  He rooted around in the trunk, rediscovering all he’d once packed in readiness for a similar journey. Compass, letters of introduction, money hidden away everywhere he could think of. If Miranda had not come back to her husband, he would be on the continent right now—drinking wine in foreign taverns, sleeping under different stars, seeing a world beyond England’s shores, like many of his friends had already done in their youth. Like Taverham, he’d inherited the family estate as a young man and, with no brother to succeed him, he’d lived a dutiful life in the countryside.

  Until now, he’d accepted that such a trip would be denied him forever.

  But what if it wasn’t?

  He shook his head, dismissing the idea as fantasy, and packed everything away, slid the sea chest back under his desk and dropped into his chair. Perhaps he could consider traveling one day, but when that might be possible, he didn’t know. There were too many uncertainties in his future to make any plans for himself.

  There was Emily to care for.

  And perhaps Alice Quartermane to marry still.

  A tap at his door broke him from his brooding. “Come,” he called.

  Thompson stepped into the room, a hesitant smile on his lips. “May I interrupt?”

  “Certainly,” he promised, gesturing the man inside. “What can I help you with?”

  “The repairs are finished,” Thompson stated as he shut the door.

  “Excellent,” he exclaimed. “I must confess, I had a look early this morning and thought it must be almost done. Congratulations.”

  “So that’s everything.”

  Everett smiled. Not everything. He had a proposition to discuss now. “Sit down, Thompson.”

  Thompson did, and looked at him expectantly.

  “We’ve been friends for a long time and it pains me that you’re in this situation, but I would like to offer you a position.”

  Thompson’s brows rose. “Employment?”

  “Indeed. Warstone could use a man who knows how to get things done.”

  “Such as?” Thompson regarded him warily.

  “Improvements, estate management, and the like. Duties of a steward. The position comes with a generous income and a newly repaired cottage to live in rent-free.”

  “Why would you want me for your steward? I know nothing of managing an estate. My father—”

  “Your father is a fool to not see your potential. Your work on the cottage is proof of that. Everything ran smoothly and ahead of schedule. You are a man who knows how to make things happen. I know your finances right now do not allow much room for ambition, but one day, perhaps not too far away, things might be different. I want you to remain at Warstone and learn the ropes of managing an estate such as this.”

  “Because you’ll be too busy being a doting lapdog while your wife shops in London,” Thompson smirked.

  Everett shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the suggestion. He’d already escorted Alice to the shops a few times in London and had found it the most boring of pastimes. “I’m offering you a chance to discover your strengths and to make something of yourself one day. Here, you will be far away from your father’s criticisms and your brother’s scorn.”

  Thompson said nothing to that, but Everett was certain his friend was giving the matter serious consideration. Allowing Thompson to return to his family, begging for scraps, was unthinkable to him. “The matter of your employment could remain between us and my servants, if you like.”

  “You would let me pretend?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. Taking a position as his steward could cost Thompson more of his standing in society, and he had precious little left. Thompson must find an honest way to support himself soon. His father had cut him off without a penny, and the burden of living on the charity of others must be wearing him down.

  “I’ll do it,” Thompson said, looking him in the eye, shoulders and back straightening. “I’d be proud to have anyone know that I worked for you.”

  Everett grinned. Thompson was a brave man. “Excellent. Shall we discuss your duties?”

  Thompson nodded. “I have some ideas for improvements, too.”

  “I rather thought you might have something extra up your sleeve after your weeks here.”

  “Rose Cottage?” Thompson asked.

  “Is not to be touched or discussed,” he said quickly.

  Thompson nodded slowly. “As you wish.”

  “Now, what I want from you is—”

  A rapid knock sounded on the door before he got any further.

  “Yes, what is it?” he called.

  The Quartermanes’ maid edged into the room. “Miss Quartermane is ready to go calling.”

  “Please wish her a pleasant outing,” he told the woman immediately.

  He would not go. Alice only wished to visit the Taverhams, where he was not invited anymore.

  He shooed the woman out of the room when she lingered. “Off you go. I am very busy today.”

  The woman backed out of the room reluctantly, worrying her lower lip.

  “Now, where were we,” he said to Thompson. “Firstly, we need to hire loggers to cut wood for the coming winter months. Speak to Blake in the village first. He’ll round up some local lads to assist, who’ll take payment in lumber or coin. The head gardener can provide an estimate of what must be cut fo
r the estate.”

  Thompson nodded, quickly making notes in his pocketbook.

  “Now about the cattle. The bull was put to the herd, so there is nothing to be done now but wait for the inevitable outcome. About nine to ten months for that. You’ll find several books in the library you can use as a reference. After that—”

  Another knock sounded, and he gritted his teeth before answering. “What is it now!”

  He scowled as the door opened and Mr. Quartermane stepped into the room, hat in hand. “Good morning, my lord.”

  “Mr. Quartermane.” He’d been avoiding the man all morning and was not happy to see him.

  “I was sent to fetch you for our outing,” he stated, looking about the room curiously.

  “I told your maid that I was busy right now,” he told the man, wishing Quartermane would hurry up and go.

  Unfortunately, Quartermane was a man of many words when it was a subject he liked. “We could wait a few moments, or I’m sure Mr. Thompson wouldn’t mind returning later.”

  “Yes, of course,” Thompson agreed, standing.

  Everett didn’t care for that. If he was going to wriggle free of the parson’s noose, he’d better escalate his belligerence. He gestured Thompson down again as he stood and rounded the desk to face the interloper. “This matter will take most of the day to sort out.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. I merely have much work to do.”

  “Perhaps I could be of help,” Quartermane offered, smiling with an enthusiasm Everett did not share. “I know a fair bit about the trading of cattle and such.”

  He regarded his future father-in-law with growing annoyance. Everett had been managing Warstone for a decade, and before that, his father had included him in every major decision for the estate. He wasn’t a young man wet behind the ears. He didn’t need or want Quartermane’s advice on how to make his herd more profitable. He wanted Thompson to learn from him. “As do I,” he insisted. “Have an enjoyable outing with your family, sir.”

  “We’re to visit Twilit Hill,” Quartermane murmured, finally appearing annoyed with him.

  “Give my best to the family.” Everett smiled tightly, determined not to give any ground on the matter. Quartermane had approved of him, and to be free before the wedding day, the man would have to disapprove of him.

  Quartermane finally took his leave, casting a disgruntled glare over his shoulder. Everett walked to the door after he’d gone and locked it decisively to keep out any further interrupters.

  He turned back to Thompson to find his friend grinning. “Not one for calls this week?”

  Everett shook his head. “The first rule in working for me is for you to ignore every one of Quartermane’s suggestions,” he told Thompson.

  “Good,” he agreed. Thompson’s grin widened. “I don’t envy you your future with him in the family. He’s a bit of a braggart, isn’t he?”

  “Indeed, and much too free with his advice for my taste. For the record, should the subject ever be raised to you, I would never countenance a large-scale logging on the estate. That is something Quartermane has yet to accept.”

  “Right you are,” Thompson agreed. “I suppose you hardly need the blunt anyway now,” Thompson teased with just the faintest hint of envy.

  Thompson knew little of the costs associated with maintaining an estate yet, but he soon would if Everett had his way. “My coffers are not endless, man. Economy and good management are essential for any estate to thrive.”

  Thompson shifted nervously. “My father throws money around and makes everyone else worry about the details.”

  Thompson’s father was rumored to leave his eldest son a nightmare of debt when he passed. “I am not like that, and I am also not in debt like your father, or ever plan to be,” he promised. “I’ll teach you how to avoid it, too.”

  Thompson sat up straighter. “Trees, cows. Careful spending. What else?”

  “Tenants,” he said, and then summarized his suspicions for future repairs needed. “An inspection is required before winter.”

  Thompson nodded enthusiastically. “I can start on that today as I introduce myself as your man here, and make notes of their concerns as I go.”

  “That is a very good place to start.” It was a relief to have someone to talk to again. Someone who had no personal agenda where the estate was concerned. Thompson was a personable fellow. The men he’d employed for the cottage repairs had seemed to like and respect him. That too was essential for the efficient running of an estate.

  When they were done, Everett took Thompson with him to explain the changes to his butler and housekeeper. And then escorted him to his new lodgings, the cottage he’d worked tirelessly on for weeks.

  Chapter Twenty

  The sounds of a carriage arriving reached Whitney’s ears, but she refused to go and look out to the drive. It would probably be Miss Quartermane and her parents calling again, casting pitying eyes on her because she was a spinster and firmly on the shelf. She needed a moment to prepare for that conversation again.

  Whitney had chosen not to marry in the pursuit of her dream, because if she married, she feared she’d never be able to travel. A husband could prevent her leaving and using her own money. A husband would want a family. A son.

  If Whitney ever married, had a child and gave up her dream, she feared she would grow to resent her husband and child because she felt unfulfilled.

  Whitney refused to martyr herself.

  If she married at all, then it would be after her dreams had come true first. Few understood. Miss Quartermane always dismissed her desire to improve herself as inconsequential.

  “So this is where you are hiding,” a stern voice complained suddenly.

  Whitney spun about at the hail. “Exeter! What the devil are you doing so far from London?”

  “Tagging along with my nephew’s family.” The Duke of Exeter strolled into the room. He seemed a bit crumpled but grinned nonetheless. Dear Lord, he was an appealing devil to look at. Tall, slender, and handsome, but he was also very easy to talk to, despite his lofty title.

  “Miss Crewe,” he said formally.

  Whitney curtsied. “Your Grace.”

  They both laughed.

  Whitney was glad of the distraction. Exeter was fun. He had never taken her teasing seriously. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you running away from your horde of admirers, or is it that you couldn’t bear to let the twins out of your sight again?”

  “You know me too well.” He chuckled. “Twins are always a handful. How are you, Trouble?”

  “Quite well,” she promised him.

  Exeter drew close and peered into her eyes, then shook his head. “Say that again and mean it this time.”

  Whitney laughed awkwardly and dropped her gaze. “You know me too well, too. But I don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  For a moment, she thought he might argue, try to get to the bottom of her troubled thoughts. He was a frightfully observant man, and very kind, despite or because of his exalted rank and vast wealth. Thankfully, he let the matter drop with his next words. “Come and show me about this gigantic pile of rubble. It’s been a while since I’ve visited Twilit Hill.”

  Whitney finished tidying up, removed her paint smock and led Exeter back the way he must have come, into the heart of the house. “Tell me the news of London.”

  “Oh, much the same.” He talked of mutual acquaintances as they moved toward the study. Whitney led him to the whiskey and poured him a glass herself without calling for a servant to do it. They would be busy elsewhere in the house, settling the new guests most likely.

  “To ease the ache travel brings,” she murmured as she slid a full glass toward him.

  “Are you suggesting I’m getting old and infirm?” he protested, but took up the glass anyway.

  “You are old,” the Marquess of Ettington announced as he joined them. He rubbed his hands together. “I thought I heard whiskey calling
my name. May I?”

  “Of course.” Whitney poured another glass for Lord Ettington and handed it over. She knew these men well. They were just like her cousin, too. They were good to be around, safe and easy to tease. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “It is nice to see you, Trouble,” Ettington promised. “How is the work of making Taverham appear regal going?”

  She laughed. “Very well, indeed. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  The marquess sipped his drink. “Didn’t Taverham tell you to expect us?”

  “Not at all. He mentioned the Carringtons the day before they arrived, but had not named anyone else.”

  “Perhaps he wanted to surprise you with the arrival of your great admirer,” Ettington chuckled.

  Whitney blinked. “My admirer?”

  Ettington glanced between herself and Exeter, one brow raised.

  “Nephew,” Exeter growled. “That’s enough nonsense.”

  “Is it? You only agreed to accompany us after you learned Miss Crewe was here.”

  “He’s following the twins,” Whitney joked, but she felt just a tiny bit uncomfortable. She liked Exeter, but not romantically. “And he knows I have no interest in matrimony, as everyone should by now.”

  The duke nodded, eyes alight. “Which makes Miss Crewe the safest female acquaintance to have at a country house party. Plus, there’s never a dull moment with Trouble around.”

  “Now that is high praise, coming from you.” Ettington shook his head and stepped back.

  The duke took a mock swing at his nephew and the marquess backed all the way out of the room with his hands raised in surrender. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  When he was gone, an uncomfortable silence settled between her and Exeter.

  After a moment, the duke cleared his throat. “I regret I ever listened to my sister and encouraged that boy to talk.”

  Whitney grinned. “Duly noted.”