“It’s better news than I expected, Susan,” he said softly. “At least they will be able to reunite with their families one day.”
Bees buzzing in her head, she stared at his long, elegant fingers—an unexpected anchor keeping her afloat in a maelstrom of emotions. It was still a gross miscarriage of justice, but he was right.
She resolved to do what she could to help the weavers’ wives and children, though she wasn’t sure how that could be accomplished. It would mean trespassing on another earl’s jurisdiction. Gabriel’s standing among his peers in the Lords might be damaged.
“Ten years is a long time for a family to be without a breadwinner,” she murmured.
A spark of hope flickered to life when Halliwell said, “I suggest you and I share the news with my tenants and do what we can.”
*
As they leftRowbotham’s offices, Griff wished the words unsaid. The hostile atmosphere at Clifton Heights was bad enough. The tenants on his lands wouldn’t welcome him warmly. It might be dangerous, and Susan would be there to witness the melee.
On the other hand, things might go better if the tenants saw him with the woman who had championed their cause.
He wasn’t sure how she felt about his suggestion, though she boarded the carriage without hesitation. As she preceded him, he couldn’t help but notice her very appealing bottom. Indeed, it was all he could do not to place his hand on her hip–just to assist her inside, mind you. She’d probably slap him. Perhaps he should add a pleasingderrièreto his list of required feminine attributes.
Again, Rebecca Waterman obligingly chose to sit across from her friend. It was hard to tell if Susan’s glare meant she was pleased he would have to sit beside her, or not.
Once they were all inside, Frederick closed the door and put the step back in place. The carriage rocked as he mounted to the driver’s bench.
Preoccupied with trying to decide where to direct his footman, Griff was shocked when Susan put a hand on his arm and asked, “Do you think it’s wise?”
Griff the Rake should be delighted she’d touched him willingly, but the unexpected gesture was more arousing than was good for his self-control. His thoughts muddled, he pondered her meaning. “You’re not still worried about your reputation, are you?”
He realized his mistake when she withdrew her hand and narrowed her eyes. “I am not a frivolous woman of the Londontonwho cares about her reputation. It’s well known I am a bluestocking who isn’t interested in the marriage mart. My concern was for your safety. I cannot imagine you are held in high esteem by your tenants.”
She’d scolded him like a child who’d misbehaved in the schoolroom, yet there was something undeniably arousing about the anger blazing in those gray eyes. Was she truly concerned for his welfare? Or was it an act?
For some unfathomable reason, her assertion that she wasn’t interested in marriage struck him as deeply unfortunate. Susan was a highly principled woman who would be intensely loyal to the man she married. It was an admirable quality he would want in a wife—if he ever married. Which he never would. Until the earldom needed an heir.
But, the woman stirring up these maudlin feelings had stolen his horse, and he’d best not forget it. He took hold of her gloved hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “I appreciate your concern on my behalf,” he crooned, summoning his best rakish voice. “Perhaps the wisest course of action is to repair first to Clifton Heights and send a message to my tenants that we intend to visit on the morrow with good news.”
In Her Element
“Your gates seemto be in a state of disrepair,” Susan remarked when Halliwell’s carriage reached Clifton Heights. She’d sensed his apprehension growing as they neared his ancestral home. That alone should have warned her to keep her mouth shut. The firm set of his jaw revealed his annoyance and embarrassment that the gates were hanging off their hinges like drunken sailors.
“Hence the need for a new estate manager,” he replied tersely.
The driver proceeded slowly but the carriage lurched each time the wheels encountered a pothole. Susan held on to the strap, finally accepting it was inevitable she and Halliwell would be thrown against each other. She forced a smile, pretending she was enjoying the frequent contact. It was actually a good thing he was there, otherwise she’d have been bumped and bruised.
Wait! That didn’t make sense. If he wasn’t here…
The nonsensical conundrum was forgotten when she finally espied the house. Larger and more grandiose than Thicketford Manor, the edifice had obviously been built to showcase the wealth of its owners. The soaring pillars holding up theporte-cochèrespoke of power and dependability, but the plaster was peeling badly. The years hadn’t been kind and the only word that sprang to Susan’s mind wasmonstrosity.
It reminded her of renderings she’d seen of recently discovered Indian temples smothered by jungle vegetation. Ivy and morning glory clearly ruled here, and not the decorative kind.
It would take enormous amounts of labor and money to restore it to its former splendor, but the effort would be well worth it.
However, this time, she paid heed to the anger radiating from her companion and kept silent, as did the gaping Rebecca.
“It’s seen better days,” he allowed. “And I warn you, the interior isn’t much of an improvement.”
It was tempting to retort that this kind of ruination could only come about as the result of neglect, but the resignation in his voice told Susan he’d already acknowledged that fact.
“Hopefully,” he said as he offered his hand to help her alight, “the chap recommended by your Mr. Blair can start putting things to rights.”
Perhaps emboldened by the strength of his hand, she didn’t let go once she stepped down. She’d held her peace long enough. “But you should be here to oversee the improvements. You must love this grand house.”