Sebastian found himself unable to formulate a coherent response.
He snorted and stomped from the room.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The ten long days since Sebastian had left Little Benning dragged. The big house seemed empty without Isabel and the increasingly difficult task of avoiding Freddy and Fanny, with their plans for the ball, had made Sebastian feel like a hostage in his own home.
He took to immuring himself in the study with the door firmly closed or going for long tours of his estate. In his spare time he devoured books and journals on farming. He now knew all his tenants and their families by name and had discussed plans for improving their holdings, renovating their cottages, and revolutionising the ancient farm practices.
Not all of his ideas would be greeted with universal enthusiasm, and, while he would rather bring them along of their own volition, for some of the older tenants, the power of position may be the only way he could ensure compliance. He understood that power. He was the lord and they would do as he ordered. It was a feeling not dissimilar to standing on a battlefield and giving an order to launch his troops into the thick of the fray, an exhilarating blend of fear and power. A heady mix to be used sparingly.
But now the long wait for his siblings to arrive was over. Young Peter Thompson had been stationed at the gate to keep awatch for the coach. From the window of the study, Sebastian could see the boy running up the drive towards the house, and his heart lurched with anticipation. Connie and Matt were here at last—his family.
‘The coach’ll be here any minute,’ the boy announced, meeting his lordship in the front hall.
Sebastian gave Peter a shilling and, adjusting his neckcloth, which seemed to have come loose, he strode out of the front door to wait for his brother and sister.
As the coach turned on to the forecourt, Matt leaned out of the window, waving his hat, a grin from ear to ear.
‘Bas!’ he shouted.
A glimpse of Connie’s best bonnet also appeared at the window as she pulled her brother back inside the coach. Sebastian smiled as he heard her scolding him.
‘Matt, stop making such a fool of yourself.’
Lordly decorum quite forgotten, Sebastian bounded down the stone stairs to greet his siblings, lifting Connie from the coach before the footman had set down the steps and clasping Matt to him.
He turned back to the coach to lend his hand to Isabel. Her gloved fingers clasped his hand, and she smiled down at him. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, hoping the simple gesture conveyed a range of emotions, from how very pleased he was to see her to his thanks for everything she had done for his family.
‘Welcome home, Lady Somerton.’
She rewarded him with a smile and a barely perceptible acknowledging pressure on his own fingers.
‘It is good to be… home.’
‘You look very well,’ he heard himself saying, thinking as he spoke that a few weeks of homely cooking and bucolic living had given Isabel some colour in her pale cheeks and life in her eyes.
In the hallway, Connie spun on her heel, looking upwards at the mural of Diana and Actaeon sporting around the dome.
‘Oh, Bas, this is beautiful. Is it all really yours?’
‘Every stone and associated debt,’ Sebastian said with a laugh in his voice.
‘I am going to wake soon in my own bedroom in Little Benning and find this is all a dream,’ Connie said. spreading her arms wide.
Sebastian put an arm around his sister’s shoulders, delighted to have her by his side at last. He wanted to show it all to her, share his good fortune with his brother and sister.
‘Wait until I show you the gallery and the stables. Did Lady Somerton tell you about her foal? Ah, Mrs. Fletcher.’ He gestured for the housekeeper who hovered in the shadows of the stairs.
She came forward and bobbed a curtsey. ‘Miss Alder, Mister Alder, welcome to Brantstone. You must be tired after your journey.’ She gestured towards the stairs. ‘Your rooms are ready.’
‘Oh, I’m not tired at all,’ Connie said and looked up at her brother. ‘Bas, I’ve never known anything like it! The best room at the inn last night, and the inn keeper treated Matt and me like we were royalty.’
Sebastian beamed and turned to Isabel. ‘I must apologise for my siblings. I hope you are not too worn out by their company.’
Isabel met his eyes. ‘Not at all. I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the last fortnight.’
Impulsively, he took her hand, now free of the gloves, and bent and kissed her fingers.
