“Yes. I walked away and I never saw him again.”
“Will you go back, do you think? Try to make amends with him?”
He was silent for a few long moments. “He died last month.”
“Daniel, oh God, Daniel.” She was over him, holding him, kissing him as he said those final words.
“I have you, Adalyn. You are my life now. That past, those people…sometimes it’s as if it was a nightmare from which I have now awoken.” He kissed her back. “But I wanted you to know the worst of it, since it has changed my situation.”
She released him, and lay back down beside him, her mind whirring. “You are now the owner of Nordean.”
“Yes.”
“Mr Dawson?”
“Once a year we exchanged brief notes, never telling a soul. He is the one who told me that my father had passed away.”
“What shall you do now, love?” Adalyn asked. “What lies ahead and how can I help?”
“I’m not sure of the first, but for the second? Just love me, Adalyn.”
“I already do, Daniel. More than you’ll ever know.”
*~~*~~*
The late autumn sun hadn’t made much of an appearance over Kilham Abbey, a sturdy, unimaginative assemblage of bricks and mortar, and what little sun there was didn’t improve the facade. It was sometimes regarded as the district’s eyesore, even though the property itself was the source of income for more than a few of the surrounding villages and farms.
The former Earl of Kilham had tried his best to add a touch or two of whimsical interest, but on the whole, his efforts had gone unnoticed. After his first wife died, leaving him with a young son, the Earl’s focus was on raising—and spoiling—his child, not maintaining the Abbey.
The Dower House, situated at least ten miles from the Abbey itself, had been completely neglected once the late Earl’s mama passed away. A small allowance was budgeted for its sole occupant, a Mrs Ashe, whose chequered life had included a period of residence at Kilham as mistress to the late Earl. Other than her, the house had lain dormant, untended and showing signs of rotting away.
Until this day.
A small cart pulled up to the front door and the driver jumped from the seat to rap smartly on the peeling door, his greatcoat and hat marking him as a person of some importance.
“Open up,” he shouted, rapping again with the end of his whip.
At last it creaked open and a woman’s face appeared. “’Ooo are yer an’ what yer want?”
“I’m the Earl of Kilham, woman, and I want you to open the damned door.”
“Yer don’t look like ‘im. Too young.”
With a breath of anger, the man glared at her. “I am thenewEarl. My father has passed away, and I now own this building along with everything else at Kilham Abbey. If you want to continue to reside here, best open this door right this minute.”
Grumbling, the woman did so, and the young Earl turned back to the cart. “Well?” He shot a glance at the other occupant. “What are you waiting for? Get down and bring your bag with you. I haven’t got all day.”
Thus addressed, a slender woman clambered down from the cart and dragged her portmanteau from behind the seat. She struggled, since it contained all her worldly goods, including a couple of books. But she managed to get a firm grip on the handle and worked it free of the cart, letting it drop to the ground. She glanced up, but all she received was a frown.
It took some moments, but she finally arrived on the front doorstep, dragging the case behind her, and with a sarcastic curl to her lips. “Thank you for your help, Ernest.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You will address me as Your Grace.”
She straightened. “I am your stepmother. I shall address you by name. And in case you’d forgotten, you are an Earl not a Duke. The correct appellation for those outside the family ismy Lord.”
He sneered at her. “Since you’re now outside the family, a mere penniless Dowager—which is the same as being a nobody—you had best remember your own words.”
“What’s this then? She livin’ ‘ere?” Mrs Ashe frowned. “Ho no. I don’t want none ‘o that.”
