As she thought through all of their conversations about Blackthorne Park, she could not recall a single time when he’d used possessive language. The estate, never his estate. He did not speak as though he believed himself to be the true master of his estate.
“Oliver.” She’d thought the name countless times over the previous days, but it was the first time she’d addressed him as such.
He stopped short and then turned slowly towards her, his shoulders slumped. “Yes?”
Kitty held his eyes, praying he understood and believed her words. “Whether you believe it or not, you are the master of Blackthorne Park. And you have every right to move into those rooms.”
“But I shouldn’t be…” Oliver’s voice broke with emotion. “Not for many years to come.”
Not able to stop herself, Kitty slipped her arms around his back. Perhaps she could return some of the comfort he’d given her the day of the cricket match. “Life isn’t fair sometimes. Believe me, I know.” She thought of her own father, gone too soon. “But you are a wonderful master. Masters aren’t supposed to be tyrants. They are supposed to be protectors who care for those who rely on them. And that is exactly what you did when you put your own financial security on the line to see people fed.”
Oliver stiffened for a brief heartbeat before flexing his arms just enough to pull her more tightly against his chest.
Though petite, Kitty felt perfect in Oliver’s arms, as if she’d been designed just for him to hold. And her words hung heavily in his mind. Every single member of his family had told him over the past three years that he was the rightful master of Blackthorne Park. But coming from Kitty, he could almost believe it.
After far longer than was proper, Oliver dropped his arms and stepped away. Though he immediately missed the feeling of having her in his arms. “We should probably return before someone comes looking for us.”
“Unfortunately, you are correct.” Kitty shifted to his side before slipping her arm around his elbow. They walked arm-in-arm back across the garden, through the gate, and back around the corner, only breaking contact for a brief moment while Kitty re-locked the gate.
As they approached her townhouse, with Kitty’s maid following at a respectful distance, Oliver asked a question that had been bothering him.“Why did the rumors of my financial ruin trouble you?”
“I’ve spent several years being treated as though I only mattered for my dowry,” Kitty admitted as they reached her door. “I needed to know that you did not have any ulterior motives.”
Two thoughts struck Oliver with nearly equal force. The first was that Kitty would only be concerned about his motives if she saw something in their interactions beyond a scheme to quiet whispers. An idea that made his heart flip. His second thought was that he had a simple way to prove his sincerity. It was even close at hand because he’d come directly from his meeting. “May I show you something before I leave?”
“Of course,” Kitty agreed as they walked through the open door and into the townhouse.
Oliver quickly retrieved his satchel from the footman before following her into a small sitting room. Leaving the door open for propriety, he joined her on a green settee. Once they were situated, he opened his satchel and removed a thin leather book. After flipping through to find the correct page, he held it out to her.
“You wish me to read it?” Kitty asked, her brow furrowed.
“Please.”
Oliver watched as her intelligent chocolate-brown eyes ran back and forth across the page. Just as he expected,she knew how to read a ledger. Household management was part of the education of most women in genteel families.
After several minutes, Kitty closed the book and handed it back. “The accounts for your estate?”
“Yes,” Oliver confirmed as he returned the slim book to the satchel.
“They are not ideal,” Kitty confirmed what he already knew, “but I concur that the estate is not facing financial ruin. At least not without a significant amount of poor luck.”
Oliver nodded as he retrieved the second, more crucial, ledger book. With a question in her eyes, she accepted it. “Another financial ledger?”
“Please read it,” he all but whispered.
He forced himself to breathe as she skimmed down the page once, and then a second time. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Your investment portfolio?”
He could only guess what she was thinking, but shock must have been among her emotions. Oliver himself often felt disbelief at the value of his investments. For someone who had only heard that he was nearly insolvent, it must have been astonishing.
“When Nat married Sarah over a decade ago,” Oliver explained, “he convinced my father to invest the profits from the estate. Not speculation, solid business deals. There were no guarantees, of course, and a few ventures have failed. But more often than not, he made money.”
“And you’ve continued to follow your brother-in-law’s advice,” Kitty interjected.
“I have,” Oliver confirmed. “Blackthorne Park may be my heritage, but it is not the primary source of my income.”
Kitty closed the book, but kept it in her lap. “The London gossips have it all wrong,” she said almost to herself.
Oliver leaned in closer. “And I would prefer to keep it that way.”
