Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 65
“What happened to them?”
“The trees died the year after she did. A bacterial canker took them—the flu claimed her and my father.”
Wister nodded. Lord Carno appeared upset, and she didn’t want to add to his misery by offering up her own tragic story. She barely knew the man and they had not got off to a great start. “I am sorry,” she replied.
“So am I.”
They sat for a few minutes, neither saying a word. Wister finally turned as Rhys got to his feet. To her surprise, he held out his hand. “My cousin has gone inside looking for someone to make him a cup of tea. How about you and I join him?”
Wister reluctantly accepted his offer of assistance, and Rhys drew her up to stand alongside him. A soft, shy smile was briefly exchanged.
He slipped his hat off and Wister got her first glimpse of his rich brown hair. When Rhys ruffled his fingers through his lengthy locks, she wished for nothing more than to be able to stuff her hands in her pockets. It was either that or offer to finger comb his hair.
The green-eyed Welsh devil was delightfully shaggy.
“I don’t suppose you have a gentleman’s barber in the village, do you? I could do with a cut and a shave,” he said.
She could simply say no and leave it at that, but Wister had been raised in a good home where manners were valued. “We don’t, but I’ve a fine pair of sharp scissors in the house and I know my way around a cutthroat blade. I could give you a trim and free you of that beard.”
He gave her an unsure look. Not five minutes ago he had berated her, and now she was offering to hold a blade to his throat.
“Is this the part where I apologize for my rude behavior?” said Rhys.
Wister nodded, offering reassurance. “Trust me, Lord Carno, you are not the first noble to raise his voice to me. If I can survive working for Lord and Lady Kington, dealing with someone who simply wants answers about the estate will be a positive delight. Besides, you have every right to examine the books and question the staff. I overstepped the mark with my earlier comments. It is I who should be offering an apology.”
She gave a quick check of her skirts, brushing off a couple of damp leaves, then started toward the house. Rhys followed. At the back door, Wister stopped and scraped the wet leaves from the soles of her boots.
“Speaking of servants, how many do we have here at Kington? So far, I haven’t seen anyone other than yourself,” said Rhys.
The baron’s man must have failed to mention the issue of servants and the lack thereof in his report. A grand estate such as Kington House would normally retain a full retinue of staff.
Brace yourself, Lord Carno. This is going to be the first of many disappointments.
“Including Polly and myself, you have the grand sum of two.”
Chapter Five
“The books themselves have been kept in good order. It’s just the figures which are so bloody horrible.” Rhys closed the last of the account ledgers and pushed back from the desk.
Deri was seated on a nearby couch nursing a glass of red wine. They had made a thorough search of Lord Kington’s study and private rooms but not found a single drop of whisky or brandy. Any delight they had in discovering the bottle of red wine had quickly dissipated as soon as it was opened.
“Speaking of bloody horrible, I don’t think I can finish this,” said Deri. He screwed up his face and set the glass down on a side table. Things had to be really bad for a house to not have at least one decent bottle of wine in the cellar.
Rhys wandered over to the window and looked out at the orchard and the fast fading light of the early evening. “Tomorrow I shall ride into the village and see what the local store and tavern can offer in the way of wine and vittles. We need supplies.”
If he was going to remain at Kington House for Christmas, the cellar would need to be restocked. He made a mental note to write to his wine merchant in London and have several crates of good French reds delivered.
“Of course, you could ask your estate manager if there is any booze around the place. She seems handy enough,” offered Deri.
Rhys shot him a warning look. Miss York had done a decent job in rustling up a midday meal for them, but he didn’t want her to get too comfortable with him. Chances were, he was going to be asking for her resignation very soon. She was easy on the eye, he could admit to that, but her good looks wouldn’t help to solve his immediate problem—that being the terrible state of Kington House’s bank balance.
No. They would have to make do for tonight and then come to some arrangement with a local supplier who could offer favorable terms of credit in order for them to quickly have something decent to drink.
Rhys peered out at the apple trees. There were still a few leaves on the topmost branches of some trees. The rest lay scattered about the orchard floor.
I wonder when the first snow will fall. It can’t be far off if the chill winds are any indication.
Deri rose from his chair and came to Rhys’s side. “Don’t trouble yourself about getting anything for me. I won’t be staying. I have decided to travel on to London tomorrow morning. The weather might close in and I wouldn’t want to be on the road if it did.”
Rhys sighed. “I thought you might stay on for a few days at least. Or did you suddenly become possessed of the burning need to see Miss Gerald?”
The prospect of being here on his own was not particularly appealing. Rhys raised an eyebrow as a sheepish look appeared on his cousin’s face.
“Out with it, man. I can see you are like the cat that got the cream,” said Rhys.
Deri grinned. “I wasn’t just intending to see Sophie when I head to London. The relationship is more serious than I had led you to believe in Carno.”
“And?” replied Rhys, raising both eyebrows.
Deri broke into a soft chuckle. “And I am planning to ask her to marry me. I thought I could manage a few days here, but it’s killing me. If I don’t hightail it to London and propose to her, I shall go mad. I know it’s terrible of me to abandon you to the charming Miss York, but it has to be done.”
This was the most excellent of news. Deri had always wanted a wife and a brood of children. “I am beyond happy for you, and never let it be said that I stood in Cupid’s way. I just hope the poor unfortunate girl has the good sense to accept.”
“I have already confessed my affections, and the letter I received from Sophie just before we left Carno confirmed that she feels the same way about me. With luck, we will be wed early in the new year,” replied Deri.
Rhys clapped him on the back, then took one look at the mostly full bottle of wine. This was a moment for celebration. “Come on. Let’s get our coats. We can walk into the village and have a pint or two and some supper at the Royal Oak Inn. Your future happiness should not be toasted with gnat’s piss.”
He was truly happy for his cousin and would dance long at his wedding. If only his own problems could be so easily overcome. As the owner of two near-bankrupt estates, he wasn’t exactly a prize catch.
What a pity that the only woman I have got within five feet of in the past six months is the same woman I am about to send packing.
Chapter Six
Deri departed from Kington House the following morning, leaving Rhys to deal with the question of what he was going to do about the estate and Miss York. After another morning spent going through the estate records and not being able to make complete sense of them, Rhys finally decided it was time to talk to his estate manager.
“Have a seat please, Miss York,” he said.
Wister stood in the doorway of the sitting room, lips pursed, clearly nonplussed at being summoned by him. When he motioned to the chair in front of the desk where he currently sat, she gave a derisive sniff.
She walked over and stood between the desk and the chair. After placing a piece of paper in front of Rhys, she stepped back and stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him. She was definitely not in a convivial mood. “If you are going to dismiss me, could you please just get it over and done with? The coach for Birmingham passes through the village at midday and I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Rhys gritted his teeth, doing his best not to get angry over her defiant stand. Someone had to be the adult here. He glanced at the note. On it was written a number which made him decidedly uncomfortable. One hundred and fifty guineas.
“That is the total of my outstanding wages. If you pay me, I will go immediately to my room and pack,” she said.
Wages? She was the estate manager. Why hadn’t she been paying herself?
He picked up the note, examined it closely once more to confirm the number, then frowned. “You haven’t been paid in over three years? I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “Lord Kington wasn’t one for taking care of his estate or his staff. That is why there is only the two of us remaining. Polly takes most of her wages as eggs, milk from the cow, and some of the food that she bakes.”
But if Miss York hadn’t been paid in all that time, why had she stayed? No sensible person would have remained while not being compensated.
“You are wondering why any servant would stay here when they were owed money,” she said.
He nodded.
“If you look closely at my note, you will see that it covers the two roles I have occupied during my time at Kington House. The first two years were as the late Lady Kington’s companion, while the last year or so was—”
“You were employed as a lady’s companion?” Rhys interrupted.
“Yes. But after Lady Kington passed away, I was asked to take on the role of managing the house and land. That led from one thing to another, and I have been more or less keeping the place going single-handedly since then,” she replied.
Her words had Rhys sitting back in his chair, more than a little surprised. He hadn’t realized she had been managing things for all that time. He had assumed she had taken on the role as a temporary measure when Lord Kington’s health had begun to decline. Women didn’t run estates—it simply didn’t happen.
Of course, there was the occasional mature-aged chatelain who oversaw the workings of a grand house, but not the entire estate. Females, in his experience, didn’t know enough about crops and livestock to be able to handle the role. “And you haven’t had the services of any male servants or staff during the past year?”
When she met his gaze this time, he caught the hint of discomfort on her face. Miss York clearly wasn’t used to people asking difficult questions—ones which might expose and undermine her.
Her employment history was interesting enough, but it still didn’t answer the question as to why she had remained at Kington House when the tight-fisted Lord Kington had not seen fit to pay her. She was a young woman, attractive, and she seemed to have a degree of intelligence. So why would she stay?
And then a cold sliver of dread slipped down Rhys’s spine.
Could she have had other reasons to want to remain here? With him? And just who was using who? Lady Kington has been gone for well over a year, and I suppose these things do happen.
Had an invisible line been crossed between Lord Kington and Miss York—an employer and employee relationship transforming into a sexual liaison? It certainly would make sense of many of Rhys’s private concerns.
The thought made him feel ill. From what Rhys had been able to gather, Lord Kington had not been a feebleminded old man who could have been easily manipulated. Which left him now considering the other unsavory possibility. Had a young, vulnerable woman been placed in a position where she had been forced to give up her virtue in order to keep a roof over her head?
This could be very awkward. How the devil am I going to ask her that sort of question?
“Do you know why Lord Kington decided to give you the job of estate manager? You had been employed as a lady’s companion, so you must see that this whole arrangement appears a little unusual. Were the two of you close?” he ventured.
Rhys watched as realization dawned on Wister’s face. He steeled himself for harsh words of retort. If she did tear into him, he couldn’t blame her. He had basically just asked her in a polite and slightly vague way if she was a whore.
Her bottom lip immediately began to quiver. Tears quickly followed. Wister sucked in a shuddering breath, and it was all Rhys could do not to get to his feet and haul her into his arms and apologize profusely.
“No, we were not in the least bit close. Lord Kington originally told me he intended to sell off much of the estate and move permanently to London. This was supposed to be a short-term engagement of a month or so, at the end of which I would be paid for my services from the proceeds of his late wife’s jewels. I waited a respectable time and then pressed him for the money. But he had changed his mind by then and decided to keep Kington House. I have been trying to leave ever since.”
With a dejected sigh, Wister dropped into the chair. She covered her face with her hands and her whole body shook as she sobbed.
Oh no. This is terrible.
The poor girl had been left to run an estate with no support. No staff. No money. No wonder the place was a rundown shamble. She had done her best with next to nothing.
How many times had Wister played this conversation out in her head, knowing that someday someone would ask why she had remained at Kington House when Lord Kington clearly had no intention of ever paying her? The shameful truth was, she’d had no choice.
She didn’t know the first thing about Lord Carno, but there was something about the Welsh baron which made her want to trust him. Those deep green eyes of his seemed incapable of holding a lie.
There was nothing to lose in telling him the whole truth of things. She didn’t particularly care for his pity, but she was determined to have his understanding—even a modicum of respect for all her hard work. Much that it pained her, she could understand why Baron Carno would think that she and Lord Kington might have been more than simply servant and master.
“I have tried to leave. Even accepted that I may never see my money but getting another position has proven a difficult task. Over the past year, I have applied for dozens of positions as a lady’s companion, but not been successful with any of them,” she said, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.
There was a growing pile of rejections sitting on her bedside table—a constant reminder of her failure to escape. She had the right background, breeding, and experience for the job but no one in London wanted to employ her. Her lack of a reference from her previous employer was the only reason Wister could fathom for not being granted even an interview. Lord Kington had consistently promised and then failed to provide her with one.
“So, if I paid you and you left, where would you go?” he asked.
Wister sniffed as her gaze fell to the threadbare brown carpet. The truth was, money was only part of the problem. Even with a purse full of coins, she had no particular place in mind as to where she would travel.
Please. Please don’t throw me out.
Hot tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She was not one for crying, but the past year had seen one heartbreaking setback after the other. Even the death of Lord Kington had not freed her from her troubles.
“If I had enough money, I might go somewhere and try to start again. To be honest, I don’t have any real plans,” she said.
I have never dreamed that far in advance.
Her hopes for his support dimmed as Rhys folded up the piece of paper and placed it into the desk drawer. Legally, he was not compelled to pay her. The debt for her outstanding wages should have been settled by Lord Kington’s solicitors. Instead, they had taken the money and paid their own account. The lawyers were no fools. Few courts would support the petition of a young woman asking to be paid for having acted as the manager of an estate.
“What if I were to offer you to stay here and help me over the next month? I need someone to be able to explain the workings of the estate, and to be honest, to show me where all the money has gone,” said Rhys.
Wister wiped away another tear. She too would like to know where the hundreds of pounds that should be in the estate coffers had disappeared to over the past few years. They most certainly had not made it into her hands.
“What about money? I mean, not just the wages I am owed, but will you pay me for the next month as well? I need funds to begin my life over,” she said.
He nodded. “I will write to my banker this week and organize your money. If you agree to see out the rest of this calendar year in my service, I will not only pay you for the extra month, but I shall add in a bonus payment. You could use that money to go and see your family,” he replied.
Wister closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. Three years, eight months, and eleven days. Time, they said, was a healer, but it still hurt to say the words.
“Lord Carno, I have no family. And I have no home.”
Chapter Seven
Rhys hadn’t dealt with many young women over the years. He knew a few in polite society, but they were either sisters of his friends or relatives. Time spent trying to build up the finances of his family estate in Wales meant he had not made much headway when it came to the fairer sex.
Unlike Deri, he didn’t have a functioning castle with which to tempt a possible wife. His was little more than a ruin with a cold, drafty gatehouse. When Miss York said she had no home, he could somewhat understand her predicament.
Her request to have until the following morning to consider his offer of extending her employment was less clear in his mind. But, not wishing to put her in a difficult position, Rhys had reluctantly agreed.
As the day finally drew to a close, he decided it was time to venture over to the Royal Oak and sample some more of their simple but hearty fare. It was just the way he liked his food—nothing fancy.
He headed up to his room, intending to freshen up before taking a stroll into Kington. At the top of the narrow staircase, he met Wister coming out of another room.
