‘Who?’ She reached for an empty vase. It was actually quite pretty, cream-coloured with a pattern of trailing violets and strawberries. It would be a shame to smash it, but what else could she do? ‘Tell me!’
‘The Marquess of Rainton!’ the doctor exclaimed, backing up against the door. ‘Your husband!’
Chapter Two
Leopold Augustus Oliver Ralph Maximilian Claridge, fifth Marquess of Rainton, stared across the imposing width of his mahogany pedestal desk at his steward, Sewell, and wondered if the man was capable of answering a question with any word other than no. Every single suggestion that Leo had made for the improvement of his estate that morning had been met with the same stark response. At least on the question of crops, the man’s clenched brows suggested he was at least thinking about it. That was some progress, although he suspected he already knew what the answer would be.
‘No.’And there it was…‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, my lord.’
‘Of course it is.’ Leo pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Why exactly?’
‘The estate’s main income has always come from sheep farming.’
‘I’m aware.’ He lowered his hand, fighting the urge to pound his fist against the desk. ‘And as I’ve said before, I’ve no intention of giving up sheep farming completely. However, the price of wool continues to fall, while the price of grain only goes up. All I’m suggesting is that we set aside a few fields for wheat and corn.’ He paused before delivering the final blow. ‘And cattle.’
‘Cattle?’ Sewell reeled backwards as if he’d just proposed a herd of elephants.
‘Yes. Red Devons. That’s not so outlandish, surely? Since we are, in fact, only thirty miles from Devon.’
‘That may be, my lord, but the estate has never—’
‘Sewell,’ Leo interrupted him. ‘Just because the estate has never done something in the past doesn’t necessarily preclude us from doing it now, does it?’
‘No-o, but—’
‘Some might, in fact, call that progress.’
‘Some might.’ Sewell lifted his chin. ‘But it strikes me as reckless.’
Reckless?Leo lifted his eyes skyward. Admittedly, he’d been feeling increasingly that way since his premature return from London, but good grief, it wasn’t as if he was wagering the estate in a game of cards. All they were talking about was a few cows, thirty at most!
‘One herd isn’t likely to bankrupt us.’
‘Perhaps not, but your father’s instructions on the maintenance of the estate were most explicit. If he were here now, he would advise—’
‘That’s enough.’ Leo’s patience snapped. He was well aware what his father would have said on the subject. On every subject, for that matter. The letter lying on his desk was never going to let him forget. The absolute last thing he wanted or needed was another reminder.
‘Forgive me, my lord.’ Sewell bowed his head. ‘I only want to guide you.’
As your father wished me to do…The words seemed to hover unspoken between them, irritating Leo even more. Spending time with his father’s old steward always made him feel this way, like a ten-year-old boy instead of a man of twenty-four. The man’s lecturing, intractable attitude was infuriating, especiallysince he showed no inclination for retirement, but it was also well intended. Sewell had served his father loyally for almost fifty years. In half a century together, they’d produced a thriving and prosperous estate. No doubt he regarded himself as the defender of a great legacy. And the most annoying part was that he was probably right and Leo ought to heed his advice. After all, it had only been six months since he’d been summoned home from Cornwall to his father’s deathbed, just in time to see him before the crushing weight of his inheritance had descended onto his shoulders. It might be prudent not to make too many changes just yet, especially considering how much of a mess he’d made with the very first instruction his father had given him:Select a bride whose fortune will enhance the estate, whose temper will benefit your domestic harmony, and whose bloodline is worthy of our illustrious family…The new Marchioness of Rainton was definitelynotthe kind of woman his father had had in mind.
‘Very well.’ Leo heaved a sigh. ‘We’ll leave it for now. However, I want work to begin on the new estate cottages as soon as possible.’ He held a hand up as Sewell opened his mouth, presumably to object. ‘Thatis non-negotiable.’
‘I still think repairs would be a much cheaper alternative.’
‘Non-negotiable,’ Leo repeated, turning gratefully towards his study door at the sound of a knock. ‘Yes?’
‘Pardon the interruption, my lord.’ Rimmer, his butler, looked almost flustered. ‘But Dr Pritchard wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. Apparently Her Ladyship is awake.’
‘Ah.’ Leo leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to let the news sink in. He was relieved, of course—as relieved as he’d be for anyone who’d sustained a serious head injury and then lain unconscious for the past three days—only he was also acutely aware of his bad mood plummeting even further. Because if his wife was awake, he supposed that now he’d have to go and talkto her, to make sure she was all right and then find out why the bloody hell she’d been riding in a storm by herself in the first place.
And he’d rather keep banging his head against a brick wall with Sewell than do that.
‘Thank you, Rimmer. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.’ He nodded to the butler before turning back to his steward. ‘Make the cottages your priority. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘Very well, my lord.’ Sewell’s expression was pained. ‘If you really think it’s for the best?’
‘I do.’
