‘So. You’re m’nephew?’
Adam nodded at his uncle’s rhetorical question.
Uncle Grenville stood before the empty fireplace in the drawing room of Kelridge Place, his hands behind his back as he rocked up on his toes and back down again. He’d adopted the dominant stance the minute Adam joined him in the room to await the announcement of dinner. Adam allowed himself a wry smile and sat on a nearby chair, crossing his legs. He wouldn’t take part in games of one-upmanship, if that was his uncle’s aim. It mattered not how long Grenville had regarded himself as master of Kelridge Hall—that was now Adam’s role.
‘I realise my existence must be somewhat…difficult…for you to accept, Uncle, but we cannot change that. I should like to reassure you, however, that you may continue to regard Kelridge as your home for as long as you wish.’
Grenville nodded, his expression thoughtful. He was still a fine figure of a man despite nearing sixty years of age. Tall, with an upright posture, and with steel-grey hair that showed no sign of receding, his shoulders were broad, his belly still flat and his features chiselled—no hint of a double chin above his neatly tied neckcloth. A legacy, maybe, of his years in the cavalry—as the younger son, that had been his chosen career.
‘That is decent of you in the circumstances. And, as you have so generously made the offer, I have no hesitation in accepting it. While we are on the subject, have you a preference as to which bedchamber I use from now on? When my brother became too ill to climb the stairs, he moved into apartments on the ground floor and I moved into the master’s suite of rooms. I have, of course, vacated them, since I learned that you…’ His voice trailed into silence.
‘That I am alive? It must have come as a…shock, after all these years.’
Adam had been going to say ‘a blow’ but, at the last minute, dismissed the term as too provocative. He and his uncle must learn to rub along together. A flash of some strong emotion crossed the older man’s features—gone in an instant.
‘A pleasant shock, Nephew. I am delighted Gerald’s bloodline has not died out.’
At least he sounded sincere.
‘As to which bedchamber you should occupy, Uncle, ye may choose whichever ye please, other than the Countess’s suite—well, that goes without saying, for I am sure you would have no desire to occupy those rooms—or the principal guest bedchamber, which I shall require for guests.’
Uncle Grenville’s brows beetled. ‘Guests? What guests? When do they arrive?’
‘I have issued no invitations yet, but I shall require the principal guest room for any guests I may choose to invite in the future. You surely willna deny me the right to invite friends to stay in my own house?’
After what Tolly had revealed of Adam’s father’s character—and now he understood better the reasons his mother had fled his father—Adam hoped he could now persuade Ma to come and make her home at Kelridge Place, where she belonged. He did not, however, expect his uncle to welcome that news.
‘Very well.’ Uncle Grenville inclined his head. ‘I shall instruct my man to move my belongings again.’ He paused, his chest moving rapidly up and down as his jaw clenched. Then he shook his head. ‘I apologise if that sounded a touch bitter, Ambrose.’
‘Adam.’
‘Adam. My apologies. Anyway, I find as I get older I do not care for change. I have had sole responsibility for this place for over five years since your father first fell ill and I also shouldered much of the responsibility in the years before that. It is where I grew up and, although I have my own house near Kelworth village, I have always regarded the Place as my home. Yet now I am to be relegated to a minor bedchamber to give way to occasional guests.’
Adam rose to his feet and strode over to the window, staring out unseeingly to give himself time to consider how best to respond. He had learned over the years that was the best way to control his sometimes fiery temper—words flung out in the heat of the moment could do more damage than intended. A temper—he was now aware, his stomach churning uneasily—he might have inherited from his father. His mother’s constant correction of his boyish outbursts made sense now. Had she seen hints of his father’s temperament in Adam? The very thought made him shudder after what he’d learned from Tolly and he vowed to work doubly hard to keep his anger on a firm rein.
‘I am sorry you find change uncomfortable—’ he swung around to face his uncle, ‘—but you have had several weeks now in which to become accustomed to the fact I am still alive to claim my inheritance. And, as you have said, you do have a perfectly good house of your own near to the village.’
Grenville folded his arms, his expression stormy. ‘It is hardly a fitting home for the son of an earl. Six bedrooms only and a mere thirty acres of land. Of what use is that? A gentleman is entitled to live in comfort. It is what I was born to.’
‘It is more than most people have. It is far more than I ever had. And I, too, lest you forget, am the son of an earl.’
‘You knew no better. Dragged up in a heathen country by that—’
‘Take care!’ Adam stalked back to face his uncle, but resisted the urge to grab him by the lapels and shake him, the spectre of his father looming large. ‘Do not, if you know what is good for you, insult my mother. Ever. I might have sympathy for your plight, hence my offer for you to continue to make Kelridge Place your home, but do not mistake my sympathy for weakness.’
He swallowed down his rage as his uncle’s colour heightened.
‘You—’ Uncle Grenville broke off as the door opened.
‘Good evening. Is this a private party, or may I join you?’
Tolly’s amused tones floated into the charged atmosphere and Adam looked around to see his cousin had halted on the threshold, his eyebrows arched. A faint smile played around his lips, but his expression was watchful. He had donned a brown-leather eyepatch and that, coupled with his scrutiny, gave him a somewhat sinister appearance.
Adam forced a smile.
‘Come on in, Tolly. Your father and I were just discussing the new arrangements to be made here at the Hall.’
Uncle Grenville’s hand landed on Adam’s shoulder. ‘I spoke out of turn, my boy. This is a difficult adjustment for me…and for us all, you included. I confess I find it hard to forgive your mother for depriving my brother of his son and heir. Surely you can acknowledge how hard that is to stomach?’
Adam stared at his uncle. ‘Nay. I canna acknowledge it, as it happens. My mother should have been safe in her own home and yet your brother…my father—’ even saying that brought the sour taste of bile to his mouth, ‘—made her feel so unsafe that she had no choice but to leave.’
Grenville’s eyes glittered as he folded his arms. ‘Gerald was my brother and, for all his faults, he was Esther’s husband—the man she vowed to honour and obey. You were too young to know the truth of it. I—’
‘Father.’ Tolly stepped forward, his voice low and soothing. ‘You cannot defend the indefensible. I witnessed my uncle’s violence for myself and I can readily believe my aunt feared for her own life and for the safety of her child.’
‘The law says—’
‘Enough!’ Adam paced the room in another attempt to calm himself. ‘I dinna care what the law might say. My heart tells me that no mother should fear for either her safety or that of her child. But what I do care about is that you continue to blame my mother for something that was clearly the fault of my father.’
Grenville shook his head. ‘Neither of you understand what it was like, when Gerald and I were growing up.’
Adam sat down and gestured to Tolly to do the same. ‘Tell us, then.’
‘It was not Gerald’s fault he was the way he was. Our father—your grandfather—he had a temper, too. But Gerald…he always protected me…took the beatings…distracted my father when he was drunk and in the mood to lash out. I…’ Grenville looked from Adam to Tolly and back again, his eyes glittering with emotion ‘…I owed him. I know he had a nasty temper, especially when he’d been drinking, but he deserved my loyalty. Especially when your mother left him…the humiliation he suffered…his despair at never knowing what had become of you, Amb—Adam. It drove him to even greater excess. He was a bitter man.’
Adam sighed. Having learned the truth about his father’s violence from Tolly, he did not now want to feel even a sliver of sympathy for the man. But Grenville’s story did leave him with a touch more understanding of both his father’s temperament and, more importantly, his uncle’s loyalty to him.
‘I am sorry for what you and your brother suffered as children,’ he said. ‘But that is no excuse for the way your brother treated my mother.’
‘I accept that. Maybe I could have stopped him, had I been here, but I was away campaigning for much of the time in the early years of their marriage. And, once your mother had gone, all I could do was support him as best I could.’
Adam felt better to have cleared the air and the three men spent the evening together without further discord. By the time Adam retired to the master bedchamber, he felt more hopeful than he had at any time since his mother had told him the truth of his origins.
* * *
‘I’ll show you around the place after breakfast.’ Uncle Grenville spoke through a mouthful of devilled kidneys the following morning. ‘There’s a decent hunter in the stables that’ll be up to your weight. You’ll be keen to get your bearings, I make no doubt.’
Adam picked up his coffee cup and drained it. ‘I am.’
At that moment Tolly sauntered into the morning parlour, bleary-eyed.
‘You look as though your night was as restless as mine, Cousin,’ Adam said, with a grin.
Tolly yawned widely. ‘I stayed up playing billiards after you both retired. Too accustomed to town hours.’
His yawn triggered Adam to yawn in his turn—he had lain awake for many hours in the night, pondering not only what he had learned about his father, but also dwelling on Kitty. And she was still on his mind this morning. Who had she danced with last night? What would she be doing today? Did she think of him at all? And, finally, how soon would she return to Fenton Hall, and when would he get that chance to ask her again about what had happened after he left her fifteen years ago? Learning how he had jumped to conclusions about his mother had prompted him to wonder if he had also made assumptions about Kitty’s behaviour. And the only way to know that was to ask her…and keep asking until she told him.
Adam clenched his jaw as he scraped butter on his toast, pondering his contradictory attitude to Kitty. In London he had vowed not to go out of his way to meet her or to speak to her and it had been easy enough to stick to his resolve. But he’d seen her at a distance—in the Park, across a ballroom, at the theatre, and there had always been the anticipation…the hope…that they might meet, even though he had not recognised it as such. And, somehow, that had been enough. Their meetings at Almack’s and at the Change had been all the sweeter for being unexpected, despite the squabbles that had marred each occasion.
Now, though…now that there was no possibility whatsoever of catching sight of her and no possibility of bumping into her in the street or at an event, it seemed as though a little of the light had leached from his world.
He bit into his toast and chewed. This was ridiculous. He knew the Fentons would not return to Hertfordshire until the Season ended. He must banish Kitty from his thoughts and concentrate instead on learning about his new life. Then, when she came home to Fenton Hall, he would go and visit her.
‘I should like to meet with the steward today,’ he said to Uncle Grenville. ‘Carter, isn’t it? I’ll send a message to him to come up to the house at two o’clock.’
‘Yes. Joseph Carter. He should be here at that time anyway. He’s been working on the ledgers in the afternoons this week to ready them for you. He’s a good man and knows the business inside out—he’s been keeping the books ever since your father took him on, not long before I sold my commission and came home. Numbers have never been my forte—I much prefer the practical side of running the estates—and Gerald always had a haphazard approach to the finances, so Carter’s been a godsend.’
‘Very well. Tolly? Will you join us this morning? Your father has offered to show me around the estate.’
‘With pleasure. But allow me to finish breaking my fast first, or I shall likely fall off my horse and break my neck.’
* * *
As it happened, it was Adam who fell off his horse—a bay gelding by the name of Cracker—who reared up without warning as they rode along the lip of a steep-sided V-shaped river valley. Adam was taken by surprise, tumbling from the saddle and down the rock-strewn slope, and was only saved from a more severe bruising and a soaking in the River Kell by a clump of bushes a third of the way down the slope.
Tolly dismounted in a flash and scrambled down to Adam.
‘Are you hurt, Coz?’
Adam sat up and touched his forehead, wincing. His fingers, though, showed no sign of blood. ‘Only my pride. Although I dare say I shall sport some colourful bruises for the next few days.’ He squinted back up the slope and winced again. This time at the number of rocks protruding from the surface. ‘I dare say I should be grateful my skull is not broken.’
He scrambled to his feet and discovered, to his mortification, that his knees were like jelly.
‘Here. Sling your arm around my shoulders. I’ll help you to the top. What spooked your horse, I wonder? He is normally a steady sort.’
‘I have no idea.’
They reached the top of the slope to find Grenville had been joined by two men, one of them holding both riderless horses.
‘I am relieved to see you are not badly injured,’ Grenville said. ‘That could have been very nasty. This is Joseph Carter, by the way, and Eddings, one of the farmhands. They saw you fall and came running. And stopped your horses running off, incidentally. Left to me, they’d doubtless be halfway home by now—I was more worried about you, Nephew.’
Adam eyed him, tamping down a rush of suspicion. His uncle sounded sincere, but Adam was conscious he would be unlikely to shed many tears should a fatal accident befall the new Earl of Kelridge.
After exchanging greetings, Carter—a stolid-looking man of around forty, with a ruddy complexion—said, ‘I don’t know what could have come over the horse, to rear up in such a way.’
‘Likely them horse flies,’ Eddings said. ‘There’s been a plague of ’em lately and that’s a fact.’
‘That could be it,’ said Tolly. ‘Nothing a horse hates more than a horse fly buzzing around its ears. Never fails to spook ’em.’
‘True,’ said Grenville. ‘I was bitten by one once. Never forget it—I had a huge swelling on my arm. Must have been five inches across.’
Adam, his legs now steady, took Cracker’s reins from Carter. Before mounting, however, he checked the horse over, finding only a trickle of blood on his chest to support the theory of a bite.
‘I doubt we shall ever know for certain,’ he said. ‘Carter—are you coming up to the house later? I should like to go through the ledgers with you.’
‘Very well, milord. But may I say I am happy to carry on with the bookkeeping on your behalf? If that suits you, of course?’
The man sounded anxious. Understandable, perhaps, if he thought his job might be in jeopardy.
‘You may certainly continue as before, at least to begin with. Then we shall see how it goes, shall we?’
The man’s expression was unreadable. ‘Very good, milord.’
Carter and Eddings doffed their hats and walked off as Adam and Tolly remounted.
‘I suggest you’ve seen enough for today, Adam,’ said Grenville. ‘Let us return to the house.’
* * *
The next few days were ones of discovery for Adam, not least of which was the gradually emerging realisation that he could not simply banish Kitty from his life. She was in his thoughts constantly and visited his dreams whenever he managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep. More than ever, he felt the urgent need to talk to her. Properly. Not those whispered snatches of conversation they had managed in London, the result of which had been more questions to add to the list of things he did not understand.
How soon would the Fentons return from London? And when he called on them, how on earth could he get Kitty alone for long enough to get those answers he craved? He feared he was close to becoming obsessed not only by Kitty, but also by the need to understand.
His attempts to distract himself by learning more about the running of the estate were no more fruitful than his conjectures about Kitty. Uncle Grenville assured him he’d no need to worry his head over the day-to-day practicalities, insisting he had everything under control and that he would see the season through until harvest. Carter explained crop rotations and yields, and the basics of livestock husbandry, as well as showing Adam how the sales and purchase ledgers were kept but he, like Grenville, was reluctant to relinquish control. Conscious of his inexperience, Adam pored over the ledgers, but—between them and the figures thrown at him by Grenville and Carter, who often appeared to contradict one another—he made excruciatingly slow progress towards his aim of understanding the finer points of estate management.
The household staff stubbornly maintained a reserve in their dealings with Adam—deferring to Grenville and treating Tolly, clearly a great favourite, with more warmth than they ever showed Adam. The estate workers, no doubt sensing Adam’s ignorance, always turned to Carter or to Grenville when they needed an answer to a question or were looking for instructions.
Adam remained the outsider. He really could not blame the staff for their loyalty to his uncle and he knew it was up to him to work hard to gain their trust. His own father had clearly been unpopular and it was understandable the staff would fear the son would be like the father. Adam knew it was his responsibility to convince them he was different, but he had to battle the urge to turn his back on everything and return to Scotland every single morning. The only thing stopping him was his pride. He refused to tuck his tail between his legs and run away like a cowardly cur. He counselled himself to have patience, with both himself and with the rest of the people who lived and worked at Kelridge Place.
One decision he did make, however, was to write to Ma. Since Tolly had told him about his father Adam felt a growing need to heal the rift with his mother, so he sat at his writing bureau in his library one day and wrote to her, telling her he now understood why she had run away from his father even though he still didn’t quite understand why neither she nor Sir Angus had told him the truth once he reached adulthood. He begged her to visit him soon, reassuring her that he would not allow anyone—even Grenville—to be unwelcoming and he told her that Lady Datchworth—or Araminta Todmorden as Ma would remember her—was eager to be reacquainted with her and would she give her permission for him to pass on her address?
He wasn’t confident Ma would accept his invitation but, if she did not, then he would damned well go up to Edinburgh himself and make sure he properly cleared the air between the two of them. He had just sealed the letter when Green entered.
‘A letter has been delivered from Fenton Hall, my lord.’
His heart thudded with anticipation. ‘Thank you, Green.’
Adam took the letter from the silver tray Green proffered, marvelling at the pomp required merely to hand a letter to a nobleman. But he remembered his vow not to be too hasty to change the way things were done. He was in an unfamiliar world and he must give himself more time to acclimatise to it before ploughing a furrow straight through their customs. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t say thank you when the occasion warranted it, refusing to be deterred by the sourness of the butler’s expression. Some of the lower servants were beginning to respond to his pleasantries with the odd smile, but only when Green was not around.
Adam broke the seal and read the letter, excitement stirring his blood. It was from Robert, who was now back at Fenton Hall, enquiring how Adam was settling into his new life and containing both an invitation for Adam to visit Fenton Hall, and a plea for a favour. Robert planned to build a second wing, to mirror the one built after the fire fifteen years before, and he begged Adam to advise him on the project…maybe, even, to draw up the plans for which, of course, he would suitably recompensed.
Robert’s letter continued.
I realise you might view my request as an imposition, when you no doubt have a great many matters requiring your attention at Kelridge Place, and I appreciate that such a favour as I ask would necessitate you staying here at Fenton Hall for several days, but there is no one I would rather trust to steer me straight on a project such as this.
This was just the fillip Adam needed: a chance to escape the Place and its tensions for a few days; a chance to clear his head and order his thoughts; and, finally—and his heart squeezed at the thought—he would see Kitty again. He would be staying in the same house as her. He would get that chance to discover exactly why she had been so desperate to escape her father’s house. More than that…he simply did not know, still not certain his interest in her was anything more than a nostalgic dream of the past, fuelled by a natural male interest in a beautiful woman. Still not confident that she would even entertain any revival of their youthful romance.
He sat back down at his desk and drew a fresh sheet of paper towards him.