“Robbie, are you listening?” his sister demanded.
“Tell me again, Emma, what do you expect me to do?”
Chapter Fourteen
“If you wantto look in on that pretty little steward of yours, you don’t need me.”
Glowering at the man’s sly grin, Rob regretting asking Morgan to accompany him. “She isn’t my steward,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Well then, if it’s a chaperone you need while you court the wench, that sister of yours would be a better choice.”
“I’m not courting—and Miss Whitaker is no man’s wench! I asked you along for your opinion about the place’s state of repair. You did grow up on a farm, did you not?”
Rob kept his eyes forward, determined not to let Morgan know his needling made Rob’s blood boil. He suspected Morgan’s home was rather grander than a farm, but his friend had always been tight-lipped about his origins.
“That I did. I already told you Willowbrook’s a fine piece of property. You might build a more pretentious house, but—”
“I don’t need a pretentious country house. I just put a deposit down on a townhouse in London.”
“Mayfair, is it? Stuffy butler? Two feet of grass out back to call a garden? Proper English lady—one with high insteps—to fill it?”
“My work is there, Morgan. If I don’t return soon—”
“You think Rockford will find someone else? The French Ambassador’s wife specifically demanded that Major SirBen-seenoversee their safety. After that piece of heroism you managed with the attack on the Prussian delegation in Paris, they couldn’t get enough of you. Rockford loves you, lad. The job is yours. Though, why you want it when you can have this, I don’t pretend to know,” Morgan said, grinning up at the trees along the road. They crossed the little wood bridge and turned toward the manor.
“What are you doing in London, then, Morgan? Why haven’t you fled hot-foot back to the paradise that is the Welsh mountains.” To Rob’s knowledge, Morgan hadn’t resigned his commission; he lived on half-pay and waited for an assignment. A colonel, he outranked Rob, though it never factored into their friendship.
Morgan rode on in silence.Yes, the man can be tight-lipped.“Fathers can be the very devil,” Rob murmured, but Morgan didn’t take that bait either.
“Perhaps Miss Whitaker yearns for a house in Mayfair,” Morgan said instead.
“Miss Whitaker believes her feet are joined to Willowbrook, like roots anchoring her deep in the soil,” Rob replied.
“Are you sure you don’t have some Welsh in you, Benson? That bit of poetry would do a bard proud.”
“I wish it were poetry. The wretched woman will never want to leave this place.”
*
Lucy hovered nearthe Willowbrook stable block’s far end and frowned at Vincent Thatcher. They stared at a collapsed wall and fallen roof. “But how can a wall simply cave in?”
“Beg your pardon, Miss Whitaker, but this end of the stable has had dry rot for a while. Some animal tunneled under, dislodged the stone foundation, and down she went.”
Lucy frowned at the shambles of her stable. One corner had caved in, and the roof dangled over the damage. The narrow row of stones that underpinned the wooden walls had been dislodged. Doubts about whether an animal could have moved them nipped at the edge of her thoughts.We don’t need this. Not now with the heir—no, owner—hovering about the place.
“We don’t have time to rebuild this, not until planting finishes,” she murmured.
“No, we do not. I can set John and Andy at it, but not for a week.”
“Buttercup and my trap will keep well enough at the other end.” The placid horse needed little.
“Provided it don’t rain hard. Ought to look at those walls, too. Can we bring on some’un from town to work on it?” Vincent looked dubious. When she simply cast a raised eyebrow his way, he muttered on. “I ’spose not. Perhaps the major…”
“No.” The word came out before she thought clearly. The last thing she wanted was to ask Sir Robert Benson for help, not when she was doing everything she could to prove her competence.I won’t go hat in hand to that man!
“It looks like we have a problem.” The major’s voice, the last thing she wished to hear, rumbled through her, driving Lucy’s heart to a frantic pace. She gulped air to calm it before she turned to face him, forcing a smile she hoped appeared strong and in control.
“Good afternoon, sir. We’ve had a minor problem—nothing we can’t handle. The unused portion of the stable has weakened with age. It gave when an animal of some sort burrowed under it.” She peered directly into his face and tried to hold his eyes, but the arrogant pest looked to Vincent and then the damage.
