“But your boot, Your Grace!”
“Godfrey… one more word about the damned boot and you’re sleeping here tonight. Lock, I have an address.”
The man shrugged. “Horses need to rest a while. Then we can head off.”
A sigh broke free. With no other occupation for the next hour or so, I forced myself to turn the knob.
I was relieved to meet with the overpowering scent of age, rather than something more revolting. The movement of the door distributed dust and soot into a swirling, perilous cloud of irritants.
It was slow to settle, but eventually it dissipated to reveal an entry hall. Straight ahead was a set of stairs. Certainly, they were once fine, but the ornate railing leaned threateningly in places. The stairs, a quality mahogany, were intact by all appearances at least.
One side opened to a drawing room—the wallpapering was yellowed and moth-eaten, peeling at some edges, hanging off the wall in others. Outlines of rectangles marked where paintings had once hung. It seemed unlikely that they had been properly stored—such a waste.
The furnishings had, at least, been covered by a sheet, but they hadn’t been saved from the ravages of time. Now that the dust had dispersed, I caught the scent of rot and feces—though I expected the latter was from my boot.
With a sigh, I bent awkwardly to pull it off, unwilling to risk sitting on the covered settee or chairs. Wordlessly, I handed it to Godfrey, who pinched it before wandering back outside.
“Godfrey?”
“I can say with absolute certainty that anything I find intherewill not be an improvement on lake water and the polish I brought with me, Your Grace.”
I followed him out, unable to face any more horrors. Instead, I plopped on the stoop and let my head fall to my hands.
“Yer Grace?” Lock asked.
“Just see to the horses, if you please,” I retorted into the gravel beneath my one booted and one stockinged foot.
Without additional commentary, he sidestepped me, footsteps quieting as he went.
I could feel the tightness of sorrow and frustration welling in my chest, but they refused to provide the relief of a sob. Instead, my breath was harsh and jagged.
For years, Scotland had been my escape. This promised magical estate away from everything and everyone who knew me. A place I could begin anew, if need be. I funneled money into the estate every month—extra in the winters for firewood, more for the gardener in spring and summer. Ten years of pounds and shillings—all sent in the hope that this, Kilmarnock, would be there when I needed it.
Much as I loathed the way I left London—the devastation I’d made of Tom’s life—I had been excited to start anew, hopeful even. In Scotland, I could be someone other than the fussy, too-particular dandy with theton’s worst-kept secret.
Instead, I’d been swindled—Hell, it sounded as though even Gabriel may have been swindled if this place had been empty for more than a decade. My late brother was many things, but easily taken in was not one of them.
Perhaps it had been a cruel joke—Gabe certainly wasn’t above such things, nor was he unwilling to wait for years for a payoff. But this… His schemes usually resulted in a flush pocket—not my devastation. Father might have been responsible as well, but his punishments were more direct and efficient.
But I wasn’t even certain Father had been aware of this acquisition. I was but two and ten when Gabe had returned from Scotland and handed over the paperwork with a conspiratorial grin. No… he’d assured me that it was a place I could go beyond Father’s reach.
A furiousmaaahahfollowed by Godfrey’s answering screech drew my gaze from the ground. The man skittered around Fenella, spinning so he was always facing her. Once he rounded her, he backed slowly toward me.
The sheep was large, at least ten stone, with large, curved horns, a black face, and formerly white wool. It seemed primarily content to munch on the foliage lining the front drive—only expressing irritation when someone came too close. I couldn’t blame Godfrey for his wary steps.
Once he arrived before me, he spun around and presented the boot proudly. I had to admit he was skilled with a boot brush. I let him help me into it and pull me to my feet.
Together, we passed the sheep, giving her careful consideration, before reaching the carriage.
“Can we be off?” I asked Lock.
He nodded. “Horses are fine to get to the city. We can change there if ye want to return tonight.”
“I assure you, I do not. Roxburgh Street, please.”
Without waiting for a response, I poured myself back into the carriage, fortunately missing Fenella’s gift in the process. With a quick knock on the roof, we set off again, back toward the path and civilization.
I let my head rest against the glass window as I watched the scenic cragged landscape pass with something like dread.
