“But you have never felt guilty for kissing a maiden, yet now, you have guilt written all over your face.” Trey laughed harder. “Oh, my good man. You are, indeed, smitten.”
“Believe what you will, but I only want what is best for her and my brother.” Adrian turned his horse toward the manor. “And I know Miss Hartwell well enough that I can say Collin isnotthe man who will make her happy.”
“I’m quite certain you are correct.”
As Adrian rode toward the manor, he didn’t want to look at his cousin. That man had made him angry today, and he would rather not take out his frustrations on his favorite cousin.
Once they reached the estate, Trey made excuses why he couldn’t stay and visit, which suited Adrian just fine. He wasn’t in the mood for company anyway.
After changing his clothes, he went into his study and sat at his desk to read the letters he had received. Just as Trey had told him, there was a letter from Lord Hawthorne to tell him the good news. Still, it was difficult for Adrian to feel the excitement that he had made some money on his own. His father would be shocked, and Adrian couldn’t wait to see the old man’s expression when he told him the news. But even that didn’t make him completely happy. A woman by the name of Bridget Hartwell had cursed him. Or bewitched him.
The latter was easier to believe.
Sighing, Adrian leaned his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead against his hands. The pounding in his head grew worse each day. Of course, if he didn’t spy on his brother and Bridget, perhaps his headache would disappear. Yet seeing her every day made the heaviness in his chest a little lighter. As much as he tried to stay away, he couldn’t. He was weak in the worst way, and he wished he knew how to stop it.
Seeing Collin’s cheerful smile as he talked about his outings with Miss Hartwell didn’t help Adrian’s mood, either. He wondered if his brother did this because he knew how upset Adrian became. After all, the two brothers hadn’t ever gotten along well.
But Adrian noticed that Collinwasn’tdoing it out of spite. The earl clearly enjoyed himself whenever he went to Bridget’s house. There was a certain spark to his eyes that Adrian had never seen before. Now, whenever he saw that look on Collin’s face, his chest tightened that much more. He feared that it would one day kill him. If that didn’t end his life, seeing Collin and Bridget married would certainly do the trick.
The slamming of the front door brought Adrian out of his thoughts. From the corridor, the sound of grumbling grew louder. Curious, Adrian moved away from his desk and walked out of his study. Collin hobbled down the corridor, his clothes disheveled, his riding boots and knees coated in mud. Just above his right knee was a large rip in his breeches.
Limping and still grumbling, Collin made his way toward the stairs. Adrian hurried to assist his brother.
“What in the blazes happened to you?” he asked as he took his brother’s arm, allowing Collin to lean on him.
“That, dear brother, is a most excellent question, one that I hope to find the answer to immediately.” Collin shook his head. “I was returning home from my picnic with Miss Hartwell and her sister and felt the saddle shift beneath me. Before I knew what was happening, the saddle slipped off the horse, taking me down to the ground.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I’m surprised I wasn’t more gravely injured, since the horse came within inches of stepping on my leg.”
Adrian stopped his brother on the stairs. “Did you feel the saddle slip during your ride to Miss Hartwell’s house?”
“No, I don’t believe so. I actually had other things on my mind, so if the saddle slipped, it wasn’t enough for me to notice.”
“I fear our stable hands have been lax in their duties.”
“I agree, but it’s more than that,” Collin grumbled.
Adrian scowled. “What could be worse?”
“The saddle girth,” Collin began softly as he glanced down and then up the stairs before looking back at Adrian, “was purposely cut.”
Adrian hitched a breath. “Are you certain?”
Collin gave a sharp nod. “I’ve been around stables long enough to know what a worn saddle girth looks like compared to one that has been cut on purpose.”
Adrian motioned toward the upper floor. “Come. Let’s get you to your quarters. I’ll send for a physician to look at your leg.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a sprain.”
Slowly, they moved up the stairs. Collin didn’t speak, which gave Adrian time to think, and with this kind of information, thinking wasn’t a good thing. If the saddle had been tampered with, did that mean someone on their estate was trying to harm the earl? Or what if it wasn’t someone at the estate? What if someone from the neighboring land had snuck into their stables during the night and cut the saddle girth?
Or… what if it was someone that he or Collin had upset since they moved into the manor? Adrian couldn’t think of anyone off the top of his head. The only people he had gotten to know since living here were a few servants and the stagecoach drivers from the handful of times he had gone to meet Trey and traveled to Manchester. But what of Collin? Had he angered anyone?
Adrian dismissed the thought. The only activities his brother had been doing of late were those that involved wooing a fair maiden—or two—and trying to decide which one he wanted for a wife.
He helped his brother to his bedchambers and directed the valet to take care of him. Adrian hurried back down the stairs, taking two steps at a time as he gripped the handrails. About four steps from the bottom, the handrail cracked. As he took the next step, the handrail broke apart.
Stumbling, Adrian managed to regain his footing and not topple down the remaining stairs. His gaze locked on the broken pieces of the handrail.
How very odd. The railing had not been wobbly yesterday that he could recall. He hoped there weren’t more surprises from this old manor. Of course, it would explain why his father had paid such a low price for it. But the beauty of the place was enough reason to pay for its upkeep.
