He grimaced.
Kate raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Er, I was hoping Lady Kilgoran might be able to give some insight into your, um, ailment.”
Kate stared at him, and he swore he could see thoughts aligning themselves behind her eyes. Until her brows snapped down into a forbidding frown. “Please don’t tell me you asked her if I was pregnant.”
“Um . . .”
“Oh, my God. Jack!”
“I thought perhaps you might not know,” he said.
“Good lord. I thought you were raised in a house full of women.”
“I was!”
“Then how could you possibly think—” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you think that I wasn’t a virgin when we married?”
He blinked. “No, of course not.”
“Then you really have no idea where babies come from, do you?”
“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice with the first part,” he said. “Just not the rest of it.” In retrospect, it seemed odd that he hadn’t paid much attention to that aspect of life. The Duchess had borne two children while raising him, and plenty of his school friends had managed to procreate. He’d simply been so focused on staying free to be at sea that he hadn’t thought much about it.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said. “Why did you think I was?”
He sighed. “Your illness was very sudden, and very extreme. It was worrying.” That was an understatement. The raw panic that had seeped through his body as she’d lain thrashing and retching in his cabin had been a physical ache. He never, ever wanted to feel it again.
“It’s just seasickness,” she said. “People get it. I thought I’d grow out of it, but I suppose I won’t, after all.”
“I’ve never seen anybody get that sick,” he said. “Nor so quickly.” She’d literally collapsed as soon as the anchor had left the river bottom, as though it had been tethering her to the earth. Wait a minute.
She was still arguing. “I know I was quite ill, but obviously I’m fine now. It’s nothing a little time on land couldn’t cure.”
He wondered just how true that was. “Certainly.” Perhaps it was time to let the Duchess of Edgebourne know just what her prodigal foster son had done.
Chapter 12
Kate’s first glimpse of her new home was less than impressive. The carriage crested a small hill—more like a large mound, if she was honest—and rose above the wispy fog that had contained it for the last part of the journey. The gray sky met the gray clouds scudding along the ground and the only thing that broke between them was a ragged gray stone fence. Mud churned along the road as the carriage wheels—sturdy ones, thank goodness Jack had been here before—rolled onward. In the distance, she could see the outline of what appeared to be a manor house. It was gray, too.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Mm.” Jack’s arm was around her shoulders as he relaxed against the back of the seat. “It’s not much to look at, I’m afraid.”
She leaned forward, trying to get a better view. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turned to find him smirking at her. “Is that another manhood joke?” She’d gotten more than her fair share of Jack’s ribald sense of humor as they’d shared quarters over the last few days of travel. Most of his jokes made her laugh but some made her blush. His favorite ones just made her roll her eyes.
He grinned at her. “That’s for you to find out.”
She suppressed a smile. “Tell me about the house again.”
“Wish I had more to tell. It’s biggish, seems to have all the appropriate rooms.”
“Jack . . .”
“I was only there for a day, Kate. I fled in hopes of a savior, remember? That’s you.” He tugged a strand of her hair that had come loose.
“I refuse to believe that you’re as hopeless as you want to seem,” she said.
“What I want is never to hear the words ‘pig breeding’ again, but I’m guessing I won’t be getting my wish.” He nodded out the window, and she turned to see that the gray stone lining the road had given way to wooden fencing—weather-washed gray, of course—behind which were dotted several clusters of extremely fat pigs.
“They’re not pink,” Jack said, sounding injured.
“Is that all you know about pigs?”
“They have curly tails. And they taste good with apples.”
“The pig farmers will have a new king shortly, it seems,” she said dryly.
~ ~ ~
The vaguely gothic exterior of the manor, shrouded in fog and washed gray by the thin light that made it through the clouds, turned out to be somewhat misleading. After leaving the carriage with a pair of taciturn stable lads, they made their way inside to what proved to be a surprisingly warm, inviting home.
Kate turned in a circle in the foyer, staring around her. “Jack, this is . . . nice.”
“I know, shocking, isn’t it?”
The floor was all warm golden wood, carried halfway up the walls in simple, elegant wainscoting that met a clean, whitewashed wall above. The overall effect was bright and comforting, enhanced by carefully selected finishes. A large round table with a thick pedestal base dominated the center of the wide entryway, and a few finely-built tables were set against the walls. One held a sparkling silver tray for mail and another what appeared to be a set of antique candlesticks. Somebody had made an effort at decorating the central table with a vase, though it was empty. A staircase at the far side of the room was buffered by a lovely carpet. Kate squinted. Was that an Aubusson? Good lord. Rothwell was not at all what she had expected.
“Hello, sir.” The voice was so deep it sounded funereal. Kate turned to discover a dour-looking man, sunken-cheeked and pale, whose nose was quite distractingly large. He stood next to the door, having somehow slipped past them. Or perhaps he’d been there all along. In this place, who knew?
“Ah, yes, Jenkins, isn’t it?” Jack’s tone was unexpectedly tentative.
“Stevens, sir.”
“Of course. Stevens, please allow me to present Lady Rothwell. Lady Rothwell, this is Stevens, the Rothwell butler.”
The transformation that came over the solemn man was astonishing. His surprise and excitement seemed to visibly travel from his feet to his face, ending with his eyes lighting up and his thin lips stretching into a smile that revealed teeth nearly as large as his nose. “Lady Rothwell?” He looked Kate up and down, and somehow his smile stretched further. “I’m delighted to meet you, my lady. Please allow me to summon the staff.”
She had time only to nod before he’d folded his lanky body into a bow and retreated with unexpected speed. Exchanging bemused glances with Jack, she turned her attention back to removing her gloves.
“Well, that was strange,” Jack said, setting her reticule down on the table in the center of the entryway. “He certainly wasn’t pleased to see me.”
Kate held back a smile. “Jealous?”
He grinned at her. “You know I like to be the center of attention, my dear.”
“Just what was your previous visit here like, anyway?”
He coughed. “It was, um, brief.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How brief?”
“I didn’t spend the night.”
“Oh, Jack. No wonder they expected you to be a delinquent lord.”
“I am a delinquent lord.” At her disapproving stare, he spread his hands. “At least I’ve brought them a useful sort of lady.”
“Yes, indeed.” She rubbed her hands together. “And this lady is ready to get to work.”
~ ~ ~
As it turned out, Kate’s idea of work was a sweeping evaluation of everything Rothwell. She examined every room in the manor, evalua
ted every single employee on the estate, and rode out with the steward twice. After the second time, she terminated his employment. “Should I have asked you first?” She peered at Jack over supper that night, eyes big behind the concealing rim of her wineglass.
He shrugged. “Why?”
“You’re lord and master here,” she said. “Remember?”
“I try not to think about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you don’t mind?”
“I assume that whatever was wrong was an offense worthy of termination?”
“He was skimming as much money as he could from you, and the cook said he’d treated at least three maids ill.”
Jack scowled. “I should have kicked him in the trousers on his way out the door.”
“I would have, if I hadn’t been wearing skirts,” Kate said. Her brows were drawn down, and Jack paused mid-thought to admire how beautiful she was when she was fierce.
“Well, then. Your lord and master approves.” He beamed at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you. As long as you’re not upset that I’ve gotten rid of the steward.”
“Doesn’t sound as though he was doing much stewarding.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll need to go through everything he’d done and re-do quite a lot of it, I expect.”
“Well, then, eat up,” he said and passed her another slice of the cook’s fresh, warm bread. “You’ve got a lot of lists to make.”
~ ~ ~
A week later, Jack found Kate leaning over the desk in the study, examining what appeared to be a faded map of the estate and taking notes. At least, he assumed they were notes. From what he could see, most of what covered her sheet of foolscap were a series of squares with tiny numbers written alongside them.
“Taking up geometry?”
Kate turned, startled. “Oh! Hello.” She smoothed her hand across the papers covering the desk. “Just trying to determine how best to spend this year’s fencing budget, actually.”
“We have a fencing budget?”
“A modest one, yes.” Her lips thinned, as they always seemed to when he asked purposefully obtuse questions. “As I’m sure you’re aware, since it’s not like you to ignore money, even if it is land-based.”
He saluted. “A point, madam.”
“Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to ask you when you think you’ll be ready to leave for London. I had intended to escort you there before meeting up with the ship.”
She wrinkled her brows. “I— Oh.”
“What is it?”
She sighed. “I won’t pretend I love living in this place, Jack, but without a competent steward, I’m not sure I should go. If you’d like to go on without me, you can.”
“I promised I wouldn’t maroon you here,” he protested.
“There’s so much to do, though.”
“Hire a steward, then.”
“What, just like that?”
He winced, half-remembered lessons from the Duke of Edgebourne coming back to him. A dishonest steward could be the death of an estate. And while he hadn’t wanted Rothwell, he certainly didn’t want its murder on his conscience. There were the pigs to think of, after all. “I could send a message to Duncan,” he suggested. “Their steward up at Kilgoran is superb, you know. Took care of everything all those years Duncan was away.”
She frowned, and he watched in fascination as she thought. It was like he could see ideas whirring behind her beautiful eyes, slotting themselves into orderly lists inside that glorious brain of hers. “I may have an idea,” she said slowly. “It might be slightly underhanded.”
“My dear Lady Rothwell, that is my favorite kind of idea.”
Chapter 13
Three days later, Jack stared at a note on his desk. The handwriting on the outside, bearing his name and direction, was unmistakable. He squinted, trying to see the depth to which the Duchess of Edgebourne had penetrated the paper with the weight of her pen stroke. The elegant script gave no indication of Her Grace’s mood when writing it. He was going to have to open it and find out what she had to say about his marriage.
“My lord?”
“Hmm?” Jack set the note down unopened as Stevens edged further into the room. The butler gave Kate’s empty seat a wistful glance, then returned his gaze to Jack. “You have a visitor.”
“For me?”
“For Lord and Lady Rothwell,” the butler said, only slightly stressing the ‘Lady’ over the ‘Lord.’ His allegiances were clear already, not that Jack didn’t agree with him. Kate was definitely in charge here. His discovery that the last decent caretaker of the Rothwell estates had been the previous Lady Rothwell—two bearers of the title back, of course, and by all accounts a formidable woman of his grandmother’s generation—had cemented his certainty that the servants were firmly on one side here.
“Who is it?”
“A gentleman I understand my lady requested to visit, sir.”
“Ah.” Who had Kate asked to come? Her cousin? “Put him in the parlor, please, and send— No, never mind. I’ll find Lady Rothwell. We’ll be there momentarily.”
“Very good, sir.” Stevens bowed himself out.
Jack patted the Duchess’ note. “Later, ma’am,” he said. “Duty, you understand.”
~ ~ ~
The man waiting for them in the parlor was not at all what Jack expected. “That is your grandfather’s steward?” he hissed. She’d filled him in on her strategy on the way down the stairs, and he had been expecting somebody far more . . . earthy, he supposed. And old. Definitely old.
“Technically, my cousin’s,” Kate murmured. “Not for long, though.” She sailed past him into the room and greeted the man who rose at her entrance with a fond kiss on the cheek. The handsome, young cheek, Jack noted with something that felt alarmingly like jealousy.
Well, perhaps not that young. As he came closer, he realized the man was closer to his own age, perhaps even a little older. But his face retained an absurdly youthful beauty, smooth and unlined except around his eyes, which were serious as they met Jack’s. The steward was a tall man, elegantly built. He’d clad his long legs and broad torso in simple, well-tailored clothes. Jack suspected they’d been carefully chosen to present a specific sort of appearance—gentleman, but not nobility. Interesting.
“Hello, my lord. It’s good to meet you.” The man ducked his head dutifully, his ash-blond hair flopping over his eyes.
To Jack’s trained eye, the servant-style nod was learned, not ingrained. This was a man who had been born to a higher station than he bore, Jack thought.
“This is Brand Waters.” Kate’s gentle voice interrupted his theories. “The Earl of Ashewell’s steward for the last twenty years.”
“Twenty years?” Jack revised his estimate of the man’s age upward and eyed his pretty face with deeper suspicion.
“Almost twenty,” Waters said with a smile. “Ka— Lady Rothwell and I learned the trade together, although she started with a younger, more agile mind.”
The fact that the man was on a first-name basis with his wife didn’t escape Jack, but he was distracted by the math in his head. He blinked at Kate. “You were managing your grandfather’s estate at six?”
She shrugged. “Closer to eight. It’s when Grandpapa decided that Papa wasn’t going to do his duty, and somebody needed to learn how.”
“My father was the late Earl’s previous estate manager,” Waters said. “Between the two of them, they took it upon themselves to train me.”
“And I tagged along,” Kate said.
“Took over.” The handsome steward’s quick correction had her flashing him a grin before she turned back to Jack.
“You know we need somebody here, Jack,” she said. “And
my cousin isn’t . . .” She glanced at Waters, biting her lip.
“Isn’t paying his staff?” Jack hazarded, and she blushed.
“The new Lord Ashewell has a different management style,” Waters said diplomatically. “We don’t always agree.”
“So you thought you could poach your cousin’s steward?” Jack asked. Kate nodded, her brows furrowed as though she might be worried. “Why Lady Rothwell, how devious. I must be rubbing off on you.”
She smiled then, a quiet, secret smile that made him abruptly want to sweep her back upstairs to their bedroom. “I like to think so.”
Waters watched their interaction with obvious interest. “I will confess myself willing to be poached, my lord, but I wouldn’t mind some further information before I step into your bear trap.”
Jack snorted. “Pig trap is more like it.” He heard a muffled giggle from Kate. “Would you prefer a tour, or the books?”
“You’re agreeing to the arrangement?” Waters’ eyebrow rose slightly.
“Lady Rothwell has impeccable taste, Mr. Waters. She married me, after all.”
~ ~ ~
Bizarrely handsome face aside, Jack had to agree that Brand Waters knew what he was doing. He demonstrated the same ease with the staff that Kate had. And though he didn’t have her innate capacity for internal list-making, he certainly knew his way around an estate. After a tour of the home farm, and a few hours spent with the books, the man agreed to send his resignation to Anthony Ashe, something that made Kate smile smugly. Jack suspected that she didn’t much care for her erstwhile cousin.
Waters’ behavior toward Kate was avuncular, something Jack thought was both intentional—to reassure him, clearly—and also ingrained. A few offhanded comments made it clear that they’d been more like brother and sister than anything else—and Waters was in fact not much older than Jack, which meant he’d been quite young when his training had started, too.
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