“Oh, Brent, there you are,” said Willow, spotting Cassin as he stomped mud from his boots at the door. “I need a word.”
What a touchstone she was, he thought. Turquoise eyes flashing, auburn hair hanging down her back, that smile she reserved for him and no one else. He’d nearly lost his mind with her efforts to leave him, even the suggestion of an annulment was a slice through his heart. He’d been given no choice but to fight one more battle that day. Everything about the situation had made him angry and petulant and unyielding.
But it was a battle he would fight again, daily, if required. Shewouldstay; he could not lose her.
Thankfully, she did not appear to be on the verge of leaving at this moment. She was smiling and engaged, casting her discerning eye on the castle furnishings, which, he already knew, required significant repairs and improvements. He would need an entire shipment of guano simply to satisfy the changes she would make to Caldera. But oh, how spectacular the result.
Cassin was just about to wave her over when his uncle made an indignant appearance on the stair landing, sputtering and berating a footman. He held out a hand to stay Willow. It was time.
“Uncle,” Cassin said, clipping up the steps to him. “I have spoken with my mother and sisters, and in this time of mourning for my brother, I respectfully ask you to take your leave of Caldera and return to London. Your presence here has overstepped the bounds of our hospitality.”
“You think I have a care for your boundaries?” said Archibald. “I’ve no plans to depart before Simon and Nigel arrive.”
“You mistake me, Uncle,” said Cassin coolly. “ ’Tis not a question. It is an order. Get out. Today. Pack your things. I want you gone before luncheon.”
The older man laughed. “Or what?”
“Or I will lift you, bodily, off the ground, strap you to the back of my horse, and pitch you into the road to Harrogate. I’ve been swinging a pickax twelve hours a day in the hot island sun. Please do not doubt that I can do it.”
Archibald’s pink face went red, and he screwed up his features. “If your father was alive to see—”
“My father would have done the same thing,” Cassin interjected. “Only sooner. Now go. And if ever you make any plans to return to Caldera—alone or in the company of other aspirational relations—you will be met with a full castle guard, under strict orders to eject any of you on sight.”
“Castle guard,” scoffed Archibald. “What castle guard?”
“The tenants. I would not doubt their devotion to protecting the dowager countess and my sisters, if I were you. Since my closure of the Caldera mines, the castle guard is the only paying job on the property. They will take their jobs very seriously.
“Unless you plan tolay siegeto this castle,” Cassin said, “you may put Caldera and the potential of its coal out of your mind. Go sniff around the death-trap operation of someone else. These lands are not for sale at any price. Caldera belongs to me. I am the earl.”
“Not if you cock up your toes on some God-forsaken island—”
“I’m an active man in the prime of my life,” Cassin cut in, “and I lift full barrels over my head a hundred times a day. I would put more stock in your own corpulent, brandy-soaked demise than mine, Uncle. This discussion is over. I’ve made myself perfectly clear. There is nothing more to be said.”
Archibald was breathing heavily now, his wheezy gasps whistling through his thick mustache. He looked around, glaring at Willow, who watched from the bottom step. He looked to Cassin’s sisters and mother, who had collected in the great hall.
Cassin thought for a moment that he might threaten or refuse him again, but he merely grumbled to himself, threw up his hands, and stomped back up the stairwell, shouting for his valet.
Cassin watched him go. “I should have done that a long time ago,” he said, clipping down the steps to Willow.
“He wanted to see how far he could push,” she said. “And now he knows.”
“I can think of someone else who tested the outer limits of my control. And lost.”
“Thank God,” she said softly. She reached out one hand and touched him on the chest—a test to see if he was still there. He covered her hand with his own. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”
She beamed at him, her blue-green eyes twinkling. “I’ve had an idea.”
Cassin cocked his head. “This sounds expensive.”
“How would you feel about opening up some parts of Caldera to very rich patrons as a beautiful, historic hotel?”
Words escaped him.Hotelwas the last thing he expected her to say.
“You have ancient ruins and an expert on hand to lecture about them.” She pointed to Ruth. “You have an estate full of tenants who want real work of which they can be proud. And you have a castle”—she gestured at ceiling—“in relatively good repair, with plenty of guest rooms, healing waters in an authentic bathhouse, a showplace garden, and a wife with a million ideas about how to make all of it look beautiful and distinctive. But Cassin, this is what wealthy guests from London want.”
“How will these wealthy guests discover our lavish, beautiful, and distinctive castle?” he asked, trying to fight back a smile.
“Advertisements,” she said.
