“We won’t be doing the cleaning, Rose. We’re going to staff this place properly. And they shall do the cleaning. But first,” she paused, “we need to get rid of Periwinkle.”
* * *
“Danbury, as I live and breathe! I thought you were up in Manchester overhauling Augusta Heights! I’m all astonishment that you have been able to accomplish so much from such a distance. Excellent to see you, my good fellow.”
Hugh glanced up from the broadsheet he was reading, slightly irritated that his business was such common knowledge to all and sunder. Gerald Cokeburn, Earl of Pinkerton, had never been one of his favorite people and his comments today made him even less so. And what did he mean by ‘accomplish so much from a distance?’ Reluctantly, Hugh set his paper aside and rose to his feet. Taking the older man’s outstretched hand, Hugh forced himself to be sociable.
“Pinkerton, what a special treat it is to run into you. And yes, one can accomplish a great deal what with the mail and a few good solicitors.” He was deliberately vague. It wouldn’t be the thing to ask after his own business. What had Penelope done up there?
“Don’t play the innocent with me, young man.” The older man gained a few extra chins as he held his head in mock consternation. “Stealing away one of England’s best land stewards. I don’t know how you did it. Michaelson’s father and grandfather before him were both more than happy to look after my northern estates for me. You must have offered him a fortune!”
It took all of twenty seconds for Hugh to formulate a reply. “Well, er, one does what one must.”New land steward? A fortune?
It had been nearly three weeks since he’d abandoned Penelope Crone on his estate. But it had been done for his protection as well as hers. She would be just as unhappy wed to him as he would be wed to her. He hadn’t really thought she would remain there for very long after he’d departed. But apparently…
New land steward?What had she done with Periwinkle?
“And I’ll tell you, my neighbor was none too happy to lose his housekeeper. She’d been working for the family forever.”
Hugh was flummoxed. Hiring good help required funds. Where had the funds come from?
She had discovered them in the library that day! She must have. There was no other possibility. She’d discovered the monies, sacked Periwinkle, and gone about setting his estate to rights.
Oh, bollocks.
He’d been utterly wrong about her. He’d assumed she’d been flirting with him. Penelope Crone! He chuckled to himself at his own tomfoolery.
He’d never have assumed she’d been setting her sights upon him if it hadn’t been for that dream. Had it been a dream? Of course! Why else would he have thought of her in such a light?
She was the most abrasive, managing bluestocking of a female he’d ever known.
Not that there was anything wrong with a woman being capable. It was just that, well, a man liked to be the manager of his own affairs.
He ought to take her to task for assuming the responsibility of Augusta Heights after he’d left. He ought to speak with her father—tell him his daughter needed to be taken in hand.
He smiled as the doorman held open the door to the club for him to exit. She was a damn smart woman. Not only that but a damn smartperson.She truly could hold her own against any man intellectually.
Most likely, Augusta Heights was in the process of becoming one of the most lucrative estates in the country. He had known that Penelope was the brains behind her father’s success. That had been no secret amongst the gentlemen of theton. Again, he smiled ruefully to himself. Men gossiped just as much as women. Only instead of nattering on and on about balls and hair ribbons, they gossiped about horses, gambling, and ladies. Mostly the disreputable kind.
And, on occasion, they discussed the marriageable ones.
On that thought, Hugh’s mind turned to Mrs. Merriman’s niece, Miss Louisa Redcliffe. Upon meeting her, he’d initially thought she was exactly the same as every other London debutante he’d ever met. She was of average height, slim, fair-skinned with brown hair, usually done up in ringlets and cunningly coy.
Mrs. Merriman was sponsoring her niece because there was no other woman in her life to do so. She had only her father.
Who happened to be rich as Croesus. Word had spread that she came with one of the largest dowries in recent memory.
Hugh had, in fact, escorted the ladies to the first ball of the season, a lavish affair, and stood up with the niece for her first dance. She was all of seventeen and sweet as a peach. She was delightful in that she listened to him with wide fascinated eyes and never failed to laugh at any of his jokes. She never failed to mention what a handsome and respected gentleman he was and how much she had enjoyed spending time with his mother at Land’s End.
She gave him pause to think.
Marriage to her would fill his coffers for generations to come.
And he could perhaps enjoy her for a while. When he’d tired of her, he supposed he could tolerate her company for the occasional visits to London. She would most likely want to be set up at Land’s End for most of the year. Although she was by no means a country bumpkin, she had mentioned her preference for the simple life.
She was not a redhead, however.
She would not surprise him, or manage him, or do any of those things gentlemen resented. He would have a well-ordered life and at last his mother would be satisfied that the title would not go to a distant cousin.
