“Yes?”
“May I ask how you lost your hearing?”
“My unit, the Rocket Brigade, had been attached to the prince of Sweden’s personal guard. Having been given a guard of Swedish dragoons, we advanced to attack five Saxon battalions of the French army in the village of Paunsdorf which was followed by close quarter combat. I was in charge of setting up the rockets. I had just finished setting off twenty-seven of them, but the last one slipped out of my hands while I was ducking for cover. I lit it too soon, and the rocket exploded inside the tube, only inches away from my head. Although I had a heavy leather covering to protect most of my body from shrapnel, I suffered significant hearing loss.”
“Oh, my goodness. How dreadful.”
“After the rocket had exploded, a high-pitched ringing sounded in my head. I flung the covering off myself and began to walk around. It was bizarre to see the enemy starting to retreat and my own comrades cheering, but I couldn’t hear any of it. Eventually, my hearing came back in my left ear, but not enough for me to blend back into society comfortably.”
Was that why he insisted on doing all this work by himself? Was it a way to distance himself from society or a distraction to evade thoughts of war? Louisa was desperate to know.
“Is that why you are doing all this?” She twirled her index finger around. “By yourself? To avoid people?”
“I’m not alone,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’ve the Crawfords and now you.”
“Yes, but I mean, without tenants, without servants, without help.”
“I cannot and will not house tenants and servants without the proper accommodations,” he stated, placing his wine glass down. “And although I have some money, it will not last indefinitely. I need to procure a living, and this place affords me that opportunity. If I put in the work, I can have this placerunning as smoothly as a battalion in just short of a year. Servants at least by autumn.”
Louisa nodded slowly, stunned frankly that Rhys had the foresight to understand that money didn’t last. She had come from a household that went through money as quickly as it came in, if not faster, and her uncle’s house had been no different. But the idea of working for a living was so far outside of her family’s idea of propriety that it was equally foreign as it was practical.
“I’m sorry if you were expecting more, but I assure you given the time, this will be a profitable estate.” He paused. “Why are you smiling?”
She wasn’t even aware that she was.
“I suppose I’m grateful.”
“Grateful?”
“Yes. It pleases me to learn that my husband isn’t a spendthrift or someone with grandiose ideals. I grew up in a household where title mattered more than anything, even if it meant forgoing meals to afford certain comforts.”
He frowned.
“Forgo meals?”
“Yes, when my mother was alive at least. She was so sure a pretty dress would save us and so she stuffed me in a too-tight gown during my coming out, but I had no social graces. I could not dance or play an instrument. I’m not terribly artistic and I cannot sing. All the makings of a proper English lady were out of my reach.”
“Is that why you were unmarried?”
She nodded.
“Then I should say I’m grateful too.”
“For what?”
“For you.” Louisa stopped breathing. “What I mean to say is, I’m glad it was you who came into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s gamblinghall and not some other woman. I believe Fenwick Park suits you, or at least it will once it’s been renovated.”
Louisa was glad for the dark, for she was blushing furiously.
“Thank you. I’m pleased to be here.”
Finished with their meals, Louisa followed Rhys as he stood and took his plate and another serving dish. She followed him, carrying bread and empty wine glasses down a narrow set of stairs that led to the kitchens. It was a wide-open room, with an ancient wooden table in the center of it. The walls were whitewashed, and three open fireplaces lined the wall. One was an open flame, while the other two housed two large wood stoves, though only one had been prepared by Mrs. Crawford.
Setting their plates on the table, Louisa searched for a tub of water and placed the dishes into a wooden barrel that had been cut in half. It wasn’t a proper kitchen basin, but then, all of that would come in time.
Once Rhys settled the rest of the food in the larder, he washed his hands and toweled them off.
“Bed then?”
