“Lieutenant?”
“Hm? Oh yes, that’ll be just fine.”
Mr. Trench stared at him.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“That’s interesting. I’ve never built a house out of black current jam.”
Rhys blinked.
“What?”
“I just asked if you thought it was a good idea to build bricks out of black current jam and you said, ‘Oh yes, that’ll be just fine.’” The architect cocked his head to the side. “If you’d rathernot discuss the tenant houses, I’m sure there’s other work that can be done.”
“No, no.” Rhys stood up, ashamed to have been caught not listening. “It was just a, well, dizzying sort of day yesterday.”
Dizzying was perhaps the gentlest way of describing the events from yesterday. Shortly after Louisa and her sister left to inquire about servants in the village, a thunderstorm had swept over the countryside, halting Rhys’s work on the tenant houses. So instead, he had decided to help the Crawfords finish setting up the servants’ quarters. He had hoped to have another month or so before hiring help, but there was no sense in putting it off. And if he were being honest with himself, he had already put it off for too long. It was just that he had been enjoying his privacy with Louisa so much that he hadn’t been thinking logically.
But now, he needed to return his focus to Fenwick Park and make it a functioning estate, just as he had promised.
“You mean, the arrival of your sister-in-law?” Mr. Trench asked as Rhys nodded. “Yes. I’m surprised the woman’s uncle allowed her to ride this far without a chaperone.”
“Lest you count Lord Dawson.”
“I do not.”
Rhys glanced at the architect, glad to have found a kindred sort in the man. It was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that Miss Babcock was being used by the gentleman. While Rhys and Louisa’s marriage had certainly come about in an unconventional sort of way, the two had been honest with each other from the beginning. Yes, Louisa had not initially spoken about her former beau, but then the man had died before Rhys and Louisa had ever met, so there wasn’t any helping that. Still, though their marriage had caused some gossip to unfold in London, they hadn’t come into their nuptials with anything but honesty. The same could not be said for Kitty and Lord Dawson.
“May I ask you something, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Will you allow their little elopement to continue?”
Rhys’s brows quirked up.
“Who am I to stop it?”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, it just seemed that Mrs. Carlyle wasn’t too pleased about it.”
Rhys had noted it too. Louisa had been quiet once she and Kitty returned from the village, having only been able to secure a cook and a scullery maid. The sisters appeared tense with one another during dinner and Louisa had fallen asleep before Rhys could question her about it. Then that morning he had found himself alone. Louisa had left the room before he had even opened his eyes. But when he tried to question her after breakfast, she only shook her head, smiled, and said she was happy for her sister.
A lie, obviously, but Rhys wasn’t sure why she was lying. Particularly when she should know he would support her regardless.
“She insists that she’s all right with it.” The architect exhaled and Rhys glanced at him. “What? You don’t believe her?”
“If I may, I’m one of seven children. Six of whom are women.”
“Six sisters? Good gad.”
“Yes, well, I don’t pretend to be an expert. If anything, to be surrounded by so many women growing up has only made it more evident that I couldn’t begin to understand how the female mind works. But I do know that when a woman is presented with a particularly unpleasant bit of news, and she neither expresses her happiness or displeasure, she is most certainly one of the two.”
“And you don’t think she is happy with her sister’s news?”
“I do not.”
