He took a step back and, shielding his eyes from the glare of the morning sun, surveyed the roof. Even from where he stood, the signs of broken guttering and missing roof tiles could not go unnoticed.
If the roof is not protected, I dread to think what damage the rains have caused inside. How can anyone, have let things go to such an extent?
He huffed. A woman—that was who. She was probably too busy worrying about stitching samplers to notice the place falling down around her ears.
“Lord Carno?”
Rhys dropped his gaze and spun ’round on his heel. From out the front of the house a woman had appeared and was making her way over to him. Deri let out a low, appreciative whistle, which Rhys did his best to ignore. He was not in the mood for flippancy.
“If that is your Miss York, I think we might have already uncovered Lord Kington’s problem. Too much time in bed with her,” whispered Deri.
He could understand where Deri was coming from. This woman wasn’t anything like how he had imagined a Miss York would look—not that he had put too much thought into the matter. His man of business had told him the estate finances were a mess and that was where Rhys’s concerns had been solely focused.
Now his mind was captured by the stunning dark-haired beauty who was fast closing the distance between them. Deri gave him a sharp jab in the ribs and nodded toward her.
Rhys stirred. “I am Lord Carno. Are you Miss York?”
“Yes. Welcome to Kington House,” she said.
Rhys frowned as a smiling Miss York held out a hand in greeting. He wasn’t used to women offering to shake his hand. When he didn’t move, she dropped her arm, leaving it to hang awkwardly by her side.
He did his best to shift his gaze from her long, slender fingers back to her face, but only got as far as her slim waist and rounded breasts. She cut a fine figure of a woman. Perhaps Deri was on the mark when it came to why she had been appointed estate manager. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a man had let his cock do the thinking when it came to be dealing with a woman.
“How was your journey from Wales?” she asked.
Say something, man. Don’t just stand here. And for crying out loud, stop ogling her. She is a bloody servant.
“Fine,” he managed.
A scowl appeared on her face. Her gaze shifted from him to Deri.
To Rhys’s relief, Deri quickly offered her his hand. “Baron Ruthin.”
“Oh, so two barons? I was only expecting one,” she replied.
Rhys broke from his stupor and nodded. “Baron Ruthin is my cousin. He is coming to stay with us for a few days to help me look over the estate and its finances,” he said.
She winced, and his heart sank. Miss York clearly knew things were in a bad way.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
Rhys did a double take. He wasn’t used to servants arguing with him. “What do you mean no?” he demanded.
She held out both hands, fingers splayed. “My apologies, Lord Carno. I meant no offense. What I meant to say was that your man of business reviewed the books when he was here. He seemed to have a solid grasp of the numbers before he left, so I don’t understand what a second review is going to reveal,” she replied.
Rhys saw red. Who the devil did this woman think she was to question him? Was this the sort of attitude that had allowed her to get away with ruining the estate? If it was, he wasn’t going to stand for it. He would have her packed and out on her ear before the day was ended. “I will look at the books for as long as I bloody well please. Just because you have had plenty of time to make the numbers such a disgrace doesn’t mean I should be too hasty in checking them.”
If Miss York had been a man, he would have had her by the scruff of the neck and be shaking her. Anything to get some sense into her head.
“Rhys.”
His vision was suddenly filled by his cousin’s worried face. Deri held him by the shoulders and stared hard at him. “Take a deep breath and calm down, Rhys. It is not good form to lose your temper in front of the household staff. Nor to accuse them of incompetence.”
Footsteps crunched on the stone path, and he glanced over Deri’s shoulder. Miss York was making her way back toward the front door. The impertinent chit had taken her own leave.
He opened his mouth to protest her rude behavior but stopped when Deri shook his head. “Are you going to behave like a baron and go into the house, or are you going to get back in your coach and go home? Because I am telling you right now, I am not standing out here in the middle of a cold Herefordshire morning while you carry on,” said Deri.
Rhys sighed. He had let the pain of today’s anniversary chafe at him so badly that his chest ached. What it had done to his mind was far worse. His temper had been on the verge of firing long before he got out the coach. Miss York had just happened to be the unfortunate person who was in the way when it finally went off.
“You know what today is, don’t you?” said Rhys.
Deri nodded. “Yes, how could I forget? And it is exactly the reason why I am trying to stop you from saying or doing something you may later regret. You have to give Miss York at least the opportunity to explain things before you dismiss her.”
All the fight fled from Rhys. Making the estate manager the target of his ire and pain was out of character. Shame now piled on to his heavy emotional load. “I need to go for a short walk. Let me get my thoughts straight in my head and then I will come inside and speak to Miss York.”
“Good idea,” replied Deri.
Rhys started toward a small path which ran down the side of the house, eager to get away from people and stretch his legs. As he rounded the corner of the triple-storied, grey rendered building, he spied an orchard at the end of the garden.
Perfect. He was in desperate need of somewhere to go and spend a few minutes alone. A place where no one else could see his tears.
Chapter Four
“Bloody. Bloody. Oh!” Wister wasn’t normally one for swearing, but the rudeness of Baron Carno had pushed her to saying things that her late mother would have taken her to task over.
The dreadful man. How dare he accuse her of incompetence? He had no idea what she had been through, of the sacrifices she had made just to keep the fires of Kington House burning.
Baron or no, she wasn’t going to stand there and be insulted. She marched straight back in the front door, through the kitchen, and out into the garden without breaking her stride.
Pompous ass of a male.
Polly raced after her. “Should I put the kettle on? Will they be wanting some tea and toast?”
Remembering her manners and her place, Wister stopped and faced Polly. “Yes, please. We should offer Lord Carno and Lord Ruthin some refreshments after their long journey. Though I am not sure if they are the sort of nobles who would lower themselves to partake of such humble things.”
While Polly went back to the house, Wister kept going, heading for the orchard.
“I hope you bloody well choke on your tea and toast, Lord Carno,” she grumbled.
As she drew near to the end of the orchard, she slowed her steps. Tempting though it was to head into the nearby Kington Wood and disappear for several hours, it wouldn’t help her cause. She would have to face the new owner of the estate at some point.