Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Edward regarded me seriously. “Once this is done, you can move on to the next important step in your life.”
I groaned. He had been at me for months about my marital state and the need for an heir. I knew he was right, yet I was in no hurry to change my status or take on a wife. I found the young women in London empty-headed and boring, if I was honest. The thought of marrying one of them, having babes and being trapped for the rest of my life, made me shudder. It was another reason I avoided London. Spare me from the simpering chits. And their overanxious mamas.
“We will put that aside for the time being,” I responded. “I have too much on my mind at this point.”
Edward chuckled. “Let us be off, then.”
I climbed from my carriage, stretching my muscles. I had ridden most of the journey, but the last part of it had been foggy and gray and I’d chosen the inside of the carriage for comfort and the effect of arriving as a marquess should. Edward preferred to ride—he always did. He insisted the carriage was too confining and only for softer sorts.
He never said that when we sparred and I was soundly thrashing him.
Edward’s mother had been my dear mama’s lady’s maid. We had practically grown up together. I owed him my life. When I was ten, a tree branch I was shimmying down broke, and I fell into the river, striking my head. It was Edward who jumped in and saved me from drowning. When I woke, my mother’s worried countenance and my father’s frown greeted me. My head ached for days, the deep cut constantly reminding me of my misfortune. I carried the scar still, hidden under my hairline. My mother insisted a debt was owed to Edward, and he received a good education at my side until our later years. Once my mother passed, I argued time and again with my father to allow him to stay in school with me, but he would not have it. He preferred spending his money gambling and drinking, not repaying Edward for saving the life of his son who would never be what he wished for him to be.
I looked around at the estate, spotting the neglect immediately. The grounds needed tending, the brambles growing up and covering what used to be lovely stone. The façade was dirty, crumbling in places. As we entered the house, I noticed bare patches on the walls, empty spots where paintings and tapestries once hung. Items had been rearranged, attempting to disguise the fact that the more expensive pieces were absent, and some might not notice.
But I was observing and taking notice of all of it.
There was a lack of servants as well. I could see it in the upkeep of the home, making note of the dust in places that should shine, the Axminster threadbare in spots.
I judged that the rumors of Barnett’s debts were understated, given what I was seeing.
Inwardly, I smiled. That made him more desperate. And desperate men became careless.
I planned on making him very careless.
“Ah, Lord Wheaton.”
I turned at the sound of my name, keeping my face impassive. I met the cold, rheumy eyes of Baron Barnett, his appearance exactly as I expected. His clothing was slightly out of fashion and not well cared for. His gray hair a trifle long. He walked as if unsure of his own stability, and I wondered if it was age, illness, or drink causing his odd gait. Still, he bowed and greeted me as if we were old friends, not mere acquaintances, barely on speaking terms.
He also felt he was my equal. I could see it in his slightly upturned nose, the way his voice thinned out as he spoke, and the rather displeased look when he bowed.
As if I were the one below him in rank.
I chose to pretend that I didn’t notice anything amiss. I wanted him to feel as if he had the upper hand this entire visit.
Until I struck.
“I trust your rooms are to your liking,” he inquired.
“Quite,” I muttered, not bothering to mention the dust, the lack of paintings or comfortable furniture, nor the fact that there were hardly enough servants to offer the proper care to guests.
“You will have to forgive the estate,” he offered with a cold smile. “I am in the midst of a large plan of refurbishment, and as you know, these things get behind.”
“Think nothing of it. I am interested in naught but cards and conversation,” I lied. “Good brandy and some fine food are all I require.”
I had a feeling I would be getting neither, but I didn’t care. The only thing I wanted was the land beside Wheaton.
An odd look crossed his face, but he indicated I should follow him. I walked slowly, observing the evident decay of the rooms. What once was a great house was slowly falling into ruin.