Rhys’s initial glee at this supposed windfall had soon turned to disappointment. His man of business had ventured to Kington to look over matters, and quickly returned bearing news of a badly rundown estate and empty coffers.
Now he had two millstones around his neck. One a mismanaged English property, the other his family’s semi-ruined ancient castle. He would likely never have enough money to rebuild Carno Castle, but a substantial country house in England might just give him a place where he could reestablish the Morgan family fortunes. Or at the very least it would be something which he could sell to allow him to live out his days somewhere warmer, like London.
“I’m thinking of making the trip over to Kington before Christmas to see just how bad things are. If the estate cannot be salvaged without a large injection of funds, I may just as well be rid of it,” he replied.
Deri frowned. “That’s not like you to walk away from a challenge. I would have thought you would relish saving a rundown place. Lord knows you have performed enough financial miracles to keep this one going.”
And I am tired of praying constantly for divine intervention.
The land around Carno barely managed to support a few small herds of Welsh mountain sheep. The castle’s long-suffering tenants paid but a token amount of rent to their lord. “Truth be told, I just want a quiet life. It’s lonely out here. If I could find a way to make one of the estates pay for themselves, I might be in a better financial position to take on a wife.”
As things currently stood, other than an ancient title and a rundown castle, he had little to offer to a prospective bride.
“It’s funny, you know. I have been having similar thoughts myself. We are both not seeing another birthday in our twenties again and the idea of having a family has become more appealing to me over the past year,” replied Deri.
Rhys was grateful that his cousin didn’t bother to mention that Ruthin Castle was a fully functioning estate, one which would hold some attraction to a potential wife. Any woman who came to reside at Carno would find herself living in the cramped small rooms of the old gatehouse—the only part of the castle which remained inhabitable.
Rhys crossed to the small stone fireplace and using the edge of his boot, lifted a log which had fallen out of the grate, placing it back into the flames. It was a pointless exercise at best. The fire gave out little heat. At this time of the year, he didn’t bother to take off his heavy woolen coat even when inside. “Is the thought of a wife the reason why you have been keeping a steady stream of secret correspondence with Miss Sophie Gerald these past few months?”
Deri had the good grace to blush. “I was not aware that you were aware, but yes, we have been writing to one another.”
Rhys wagged a finger at his cousin. “If you get your mail directed to my home, there is a good chance that it will cross my desk at some point. And Miss Gerald uses the family seal on the wax, so it was easy enough for me to put two and two together.”
He couldn’t begrudge Deri any kind of happiness. If he was able to secure a union with the lady, at least one of them would not die a lonely old bachelor. “So, is there any news you may wish to impart on the marital front?”
Deri shook his head. “Not yet. But if our correspondence is anything to go by, I have reason for quiet hope.”
Resuming his seat by the fire, Deri picked up his whisky glass. “Why don’t we both make the trip over to Kington next week? I can stay for a day or so before heading off to London. I have to endure the obligatory pre-Christmas time with Mama and the rest of my family, but I should be able to come back to Kington House. We could celebrate another of our orphans’ Christmas suppers together.”
“You are not technically an orphan. I doubt your mother would appreciate hearing you say that, and why aren’t you spending Christmas with her? And what about Miss Gerald?” replied Rhys.
Deri’s mother had remarried after his father’s untimely death and had created a second family.
“I intend to see Sophie when I am in town. And you know full well how uncomfortable I am about sitting down to dine on Christmas Eve with all my half brothers and sisters. Nice people, but I never feel quite one of them,” said Deri.
Rhys didn’t want to mention how much he would love to have another family he could spend Christmas with. Even a half sibling would be nice, but he could understand Deri’s position.
“I tell you what. Come to Kington, but I won’t hold you to any orphans’ Christmas promises. If you decide to spend the time with others I shall understand. I expect I will be busy sorting estate matters right through to the new year anyway.” The idea of heading across the border to England and seeing Kington House for himself grew more appealing by the minute. “Between now and Christmas, I should be able to have a good look over things and decide if the place is worth keeping.”
“Do we know why the estate is in such poor financial condition? From what I have seen, the land around Kington makes for excellent grazing and crop cultivation. Your new property should at least be able to maintain a good head of sheep. It doesn’t make sense as to why it would not be a solid earner,” said Deri.
It was a question Rhys had asked himself. Estates didn’t tend to fail on their own. There was usually a very good reason—or, to be more accurate, a bad one. “You know how these things go. Waste, wagering and wenches,” replied Rhys.
Deri nodded sagely. “I wonder if the old codger had a gambling problem. Too many nights at the card table, with a busty wench on his knee perhaps.”
Rhys quickly crossed to his desk, which sat in the corner of the room. He rummaged through some papers, searching for the report about Kington House which his man of business had prepared. After finally locating it, he gave the paper a quick perusal. The mention of females had triggered something in his memory. “I’m not sure about the cards, but you might be onto something when you say he could have had a thing for the ladies,” he replied.
The third paragraph of the report had briefly made mention of the current estate manager. At the time he had first read it, Rhys had simply skimmed over the name, looking to get to the report’s conclusion. Now, as he stood staring at it, the cogs of his mind slowly began to turn. Kington House had been managed for the past year and a half by a Miss York. “When can you be ready to leave for Kington?” asked Rhys.
“Why?”
He brandished the report in the air, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Because the silly old fool let a woman run the estate and she is still there. Any wonder it’s a bloody mess.”
Chapter Two
Wister York lifted her head and attempted to release the crick in her neck. Her efforts did little to loosen the tight knot of muscles. She glanced back at the books of account, but the numbers swam before her eyes.
I just wish I could pay you all this month. I hate having to scrimp with money like this—it is embarrassing.
She would much prefer to be out taking a long walk in the woods than continue to wade through the mess that was Kington House’s finances, but the creditors wouldn’t wait. Lord Kington had been dead and buried some three months, and the letters of demand kept rolling in. The coffers were almost bone dry.