“Yes,” Griff replied. “Tom Glazebrook.”
Blair raised an eyebrow. “Now there’s a good Lancashire name.”
“Indeed,” Griff agreed, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. “He was the ostler at Clifton Heights. Competent chap. What he doesn’t know about horses isn’t worth knowing.”
“So, you took him with you as well,” Gabriel said quietly, tapping his steepled fingers together. “And you trust him.”
Griff felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the ribs. He was beginning to realize he’d gutted Clifton in favor of getting himself established in London. Now, he was reaping the consequences and his ancestral home was going to rack and ruin.
For the first time, he wondered if Potts and Glazebrook were truly happy in London.
“What about the home farm at Clifton?” Gabriel asked.
Griff racked his brain for the name of the fellow who managed the home farm—to no avail. “Er…that seems to run well. Mostly sheep.”
“Seems to me ye need an overseer,” Blair said. “I can recommend Harry Rogerson, my lord. He works with me here, one of my gamekeepers. I can vouch for his competence and honesty.”
“Would he be willing to relocate to Clifton?”
“Rogerson’s looking to advance himself. I think he might.”
“I’ll approach him, if you wish,” Gabriel offered.
Griff nodded. “I’d appreciate that. As for a butler…”
“I can ask Frame to join us.”
Griff hesitated. He should have consulted Potts first. His butler was sure to know someone suitable. “Perhaps another time. I have to be on my way to Withins Hall. Hopefully, the new wheel has been fitted and my carriage returned.”
“You’ll come back for your ladies?” Gabriel asked.
“I will,” he replied, not sure what to make of his fellow earl’s cryptic smile.
*
Seated beside Rebecca,Susan waited impatiently in the drawing room. Her friend startled when she bolted out of her seat as soon as Frame informed them the Earl of Pendlebury’s carriage had arrived. Not certain of the reason for the butterflies flitting about in her stomach, she rose, smoothed down the skirts of her gown, made sure her hairpins were all still in place and went out to greet the earl in the foyer.
She wished Griffith Halliwell wasn’t so annoyingly handsome. Convincing him she found him attractive shouldn’t be difficult. Women reportedly fell at his feet, so he must be used to it. Hopefully, he was too conceited to distinguish between real affection and false flattery.
He greeted them both, though his eyes locked with Susan’s. “Ladies,” he crooned.
She refused to look away, despite the loud pulse thudding in her ears. “My lord earl,” she gushed, offering her hand.
She conceded the kiss he bussed on her knuckles was well done. His moist lips were quite…
Snatching her hand from his warm grasp, she finally dragged her gaze away from his green eyes. Surely she hadn’t seen amusement lurking there?
Frame assisted Rebecca with her cloak, but Halliwell took Susan’s cloak and furled it around her shoulders. “I’m a fortunate man. Two lovely companions,” he declared, fastening the cloak under her chin. “A visit to the court isn’t usually an excursion to look forward to, is it?”
With her chin tilted up, Susan had no choice but to look into the green depths. He was baiting her, but she couldn’t seem to get words past the lump in her throat. “But…”
“Come now, Lady Susan,” he crooned. “Surely you’re not worried about gossip? After all, who could fault three persons of noble intent embarking on a humanitarian mission? Your reputation for championing the oppressed is well known.”
Susan suspected he might be toying with her, but it was too late to renege on her promise to go with him. She wanted desperately to do what she could for the weavers, even if it meant enduring Halliwell’s company for a few hours in a carriage. “Very well,” she said. “I suppose there’s no harm in it.”
Malevolence
Arthur Coleman dismounteda mile or two from Thicketford Manor, tempted to abandon the mule he’d stolen from thePied Bull.The poor excuse for a horse wouldn’t make it much further. However, it might fetch a bob or two if he could sell it to a glue factory.