When they reached the stables, the coach stood on the cobbles in the quadrangle while Grimsby cleaned it.
“Quarters all right, Grimsby?”
Grimsby nodded toward the rooms in the stable block. “Comfortable enough, milord.”
“That’s something to be grateful for. We’ll eat at the inn for now. But return here tonight for the horses. Any concerns, have a word with Williams. Tell him what you need.”
Within the dim interior, Fellows tended the carriage horses resting in their new stalls.
“No injuries to the horses, Fellows?” Dominic asked, coming to stand beside his groom.
“No. None the worse for their experience, milord.”
“A good-sized stable.”
“Yes, and a decent tack room.”
Dominic wandered the other buildings with his groom. He chuckled when he found his uncle’s high-perch phaeton stored in a corner, partly covered in straw. “Take it out and clean it. If it’s still sound, I’ll use it.”
He returned to the house, pleased that much could be salvaged from his uncle’s sad neglect. Impossible to stay long without a minimum number of servants. He debated sending for his valet, Cushing, then decided against it. While an excellent valet, he was not a man who would lend a hand beyond his own duties. And Dominic was more than capable of dressing himself after years in the army.
A small valise packed, he left Williams to close up the house, and walked the five odd miles to the inn, his thoughts on his uncle. Much that he had discovered here unsettled him.
The sun set as he passed the church and entered the village, and he was more than ready for his dinner. He considered the village a pretty place, with black and white half-timbered cottages and roses spilling over the fences. In the distance, sheep and cows grazed in lush green fields.
Crossing the main street, Dominic touched his hat to a woman who looked askance at him, before bobbing a curtsy and hurrying on. Not exactly welcoming. How long, he mused, before his presence ceased to cause such a stir?
*
On Saturday morning,Olivia woke filled with a sense of purpose. She dressed carefully in her best walking gown of apricot sarsnet, one she had worn in those halcyon days when, as the daughter of a respected man in the district, she was required to dress well. She pulled on a cream linen spencer because the breeze was cool.
Today, Lady Lowry was to visit friends for luncheon and spend the afternoon playing whist. She ordered Olivia to oversee the beating of the drawing room rugs while she was away, as the dust always gave her a cough.
If she hurried, there was time enough for Olivia to walk to Redcliffe Hall, put her proposal to the earl, and return before her mistress noticed. Once, after several glasses of sherry, Lady Lowry admitted to Olivia that she was the most competent housekeeper she’d had in her employ. It amused Olivia, for the woman was very hard to please at the best of times and paid poorly, dismissing staff on the slightest whim.
Olivia organized the rugs, and as soon as Lady Lowry was driven away in the landau, she pulled on her cotton gloves and tied her bonnet strings. In her best walking boots, she set off for Redcliffe Hall. Would the earl agree to see her? Or did he intend to return to London? It hurt her chest to consider it, for too much hinged on the success of this venture. To clear her father’s name, although his grave would remain far from her mother’s and those resting in the church graveyard. If this gambit were successful, it would provide the means for her to rise above the dire straits she now found herself in.
Her only other choice, if she were to stay in this village she loved, would be to accept the farmer Ian Kershaw’s proposal of marriage and become mother to his six unruly children. Although her chances of marriage had grown more remote with each year that passed, because of a sad lack of suitable men, she held onto the dream of holding a baby in her arms. Not Ian Kershaw’s baby. She recoiled at his ignorance and unwashed odor.
How imposing Lord Redcliffe was, she mused, as she walked along. She’d tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to forget their awkward encounter. The spark of intelligence and interest in his green eyes told her he was a man who rarely missed much. She feared she’d made a bad first impression, unsettled by the naked wheelwright. But she had not missed how attractive the earl was. With a rake’s reputation, she reminded herself. Should he accept the proposal she intended to put to him, and she moved into the house, would she be out of her depth?
Olivia frowned. She could manage him, as she had other overly attentive men who acted with a lack of propriety on discovering she was alone and unprotected.
How long did he intend to stay? It all hinged on that, but she wasn’t confident. A man such as he would soon tire of this quiet place. And he was sure to have engagements in London.
Redcliffe Hall gates stood open, and she passed through them. It was cool beneath the trees. Drawing her shawl around her shoulders as the breeze lifted her bonnet and stirred the hairs on the back of her neck, she hurried on.
The rambling mansion appeared through the trees. Nothing seemed changed, from here, it still looked deserted, with no servants bustling about. She stepped into the welcome summer sun and walked up the path to the front door. She breathed deeply to steady her nerves and took a firm hold of the knocker. A loud clang echoed, accentuating the empty spaces within. There would not yet be a butler or footman to answer the door.
Olivia stepped down onto the path and walked around to the kitchen and peered through the dirty windowpane. She didn’t expect to find a bustling cook rolling dough and a scullery maid scrubbing pots, but were there no staff at all? Did this mean he intended to leave immediately? Sell the house? Disappointment lay heavy in her stomach as she retraced her steps.
Olivia rounded a corner of the house as Lord Redcliffe walked down the drive from the direction of the stables. She took another deep breath to steady her nerves while she waited for him to approach.
Olivia curtsied. “My lord.”
He removed his hat and stood, feet planted, studying her. “We meet again. Miss Jenner, I believe?”
She considered his stance arrogant, but as it also showed off his fine physique to advantage, it sent another shaft of worry through her. “Yes, sir. I hoped I might have a word with you.”
