By the third day, he’d also determined a destination. He would make an inspection of Augusta Heights. He would visit with the new steward there and let the man know that he was not to be taken advantage of.
Once decided, the miles passed quickly. The weather was cooperative, as were the roads, the horses, and the inns. Less than a week had passed before he arrived.
And what he found there was quite disappointing.
He’d been looking forward to several arguments and reasons to walk about yelling and barking at the staff.
But it was not to be so.
In fact, the first thing he saw upon arrival was several masons replacing brick where there had been cracks on a manor which no longer seemed to be listing to the left. Damn Penelope. He swallowed hard around the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat.
And the grounds, he noted, were trimmed tidily, and in some places, cleared completely and replanted. The drive had been smoothed and even the front mahogany door now gleamed with a rich ebony shine.
As he approached, a footman appeared to take his horse and then that gleaming new front door was opened by a man who appeared to be a butler.
“My lord, it is an honor to serve you. I am Mr. Charles Bridge, your butler.” He bowed formally before Hugh realized there were other servants lined up in the foyer. “When we heard you were staying at the Boar’s Head last evening, we took the liberty to prepare for your arrival.”
What a difference a few months made.
That and a particularly meddlesome little redheaded witch.
Hugh nodded and proceeded to be introduced to each of the new servants. At the end of the line stood a capable-looking man in business attire. The new steward, he presumed.
And he was right.
But of course! Penelope had in fact hired one of the finest stewards in all of England.
After less than a fortnight in residence, Hugh found himself superfluous. After addressing his responsibilities at Morrow Point, practically daily, the lack of tasks required here left him far too much time to think.
He had a fleeting thought of traveling to London but had no wish to encounter those who would congratulate or berate him for his summer nuptials. Most certainly the other bachelors with whom he’d spent many of his evenings with while in town would declare that he’d finally capitulated.
He would not be appreciative of such comments.
No, he would go to Summer’s Park. A visit with Cortland most likely was exactly what he needed.
He’d always been able to discuss matters, both of a personal and business nature, with his longtime friend. Once decided, he allowed his mind to return once again to the pressing problem awaiting him at home. The last time he’d been to Summer’s Park had been in February, where, he thought with a jolt, Penelope claimed this had all begun.
Twenty six days had passed since he’d left her. Had she’d given birth yet? He would know for certain, of that he was sure, upon arrival at Summer’s Park. For Lilly would receive notification right away.
She would chastise him, no doubt, for leaving Penelope alone.
He would stay just a sennight, maybe not even that.
He missed her.
As he’d rambled about Augusta Heights, her influence and capabilities obvious everywhere, he’d begun to make a decision in his mind.
Perhaps he could forgive her.
He would never forget, no, that was impossible, but there was this empty feeling inside, as though a piece of himself was missing.
He would forgive her. They could begin anew.
Unfortunately, once he made this decision, a new worry assaulted him.
He’d been unusually cruel to her when he’d left.
He’d left her to give birth alone—with her mother—no less. Wouldsheforgivehim?
