“Sounds like he’s turned over a new leaf.”
Susan’s throat tightened. Could a negligent landowner change his tune overnight? Had she succeeded in opening his eyes to the realities of the workers’ lives? Or had he merely made expedient promises he had no intention of keeping?
She hoped he was a man of his word because she was beginning to like him. However, a leopard couldn’t change its spots. She’d hate to think she was drawn to a rogue who had no genuine wish to change his rakish ways. However, she had to remind herself she wanted to drive him back to his dissolute life in London. Didn’t she?
Rebecca’s fidgeting returned her confused thoughts to the drawing room. “You seem anxious.”
Her friend blushed. “I have to confess to wandering about this huge house while you were gone. There is enormous potential here. Will Halliwell be affronted if I share some suggestions?”
*
Griff couldn’t avoidoverhearing Mrs. Waterman’s question as he entered the drawing room. “I promise you I shan’t be upset,” he assured her. Susan had shared with him her friend’s talent for decor.
He brandished the letters he’d written. “I’m sending for Potts, my London butler,” he explained, not yet ready to reveal the recipient of the second missive. “Of course, I normally hand correspondence over to my butler to post. With Andrews gone, I’ll have to depend on Frederick to take these into Manchester and put them aboard the Royal Mail coach.”
“I hope you don’t mind, my lord,” Rebecca said. “I had a chance to speak to your remaining staff.”
“Not at all. I’m interested in improving things. And please call me Pendlebury.”
“The cook and the maids are glad to see the back of the two men you fired,” she said. “The extent of their…well, you’ll find out soon enough, I suppose. However, I’m not sure you want to keep Mrs. Brass as your housekeeper. She’s impertinent.”
He chuckled inwardly at the notion the mild-mannered Mrs. Waterman would find anyone impertinent, but perhaps she had a point. “One of the things that struck me during our visit to the village was the way Mrs. Fazakerly didn’t hesitate to criticize me.”
He held up his hand when Susan opened her mouth to rebut him. “However, I never once considered her impertinent—just a plain-speaking Lancashire lass ready to express a few home truths. And she couldn’t say enough good things about my parents, particularly my mother.”
Susan nodded. “They were obviously well thought of.”
Griff bristled. The weaver’s wife’s complaints had underscored his failure as a landowner and peer of the realm. He was ready to face up to his deficiencies and make amends, but it bothered him Susan had been right all along about his shortcomings. The child-like craving for an opinionated bluestocking to think well of him was surely beneath his dignity.
He strove to turn the conversation back to the staffing problem. “Potts will soon get things organized. He was the butler here for years and knows everyone in these parts. As for the repairs needed to this house…”
“I have some ideas,” Mrs. Waterman offered.
“And I’ve dealt with tradesmen in Preston and Manchester on behalf of Thicketford Manor,” Susan added, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.
He suddenly liked the idea of Susan spending a few days at Clifton. It would afford him opportunities to convince her to turn Orion over to him. “I’d appreciate your insights, ladies,” he declared.
A New Man
Arthur brushed bitsof straw off his homespun trousers and retrieved his cap from behind the bales of hay. Setting her disheveled clothing to rights, Tillie was still pouting about having to return to the poorhouse, though she’d become more amenable to the idea now he’d tupped her in the stables behindThe Coach and Four.
“Promise you’ll come for me,” she whined.
If it wasn’t for the amazingly hot sex, and the fact the Watchman wanted her back, he’d have left her to rot in the institution. “Of course, but you must see I can’t arrive at Withins Hall with you in tow. I have to first convince my father the time spent in India has reformed me.”
“I like the naughty things you learned in India,” she cooed, fluttering her eyelashes.
He didn’t let on he’d taken to smacking his bed partners in Jamaica. A man had to be firm with his slaves. Who knew Tillie would find a sore bottom arousing? “Off you go,” he insisted, bussing a kiss on her forehead before he became too preoccupied with the notion of reddening her tempting backside again.
He waited until she was out of sight before stuffing the cap into his jacket pocket and setting off down Friargate to the local tailoring shop.
Carr’s unctuous smile faded when he saw who had entered his establishment. He wrinkled his nose, horror blossoming on his face as he eyed Arthur’s working-class clothing.
Arthur bristled, itching to plant his fist on the man’s nose. A shopkeeper looking down on a baron’s son! One day, he’d teach the supercilious midget a lesson in respect for one’s betters. “I’ve recently returned from India, Mr. Carr,” he declared, “and, as you see, I’m in need of more suitable raiment than these shipboard rags.”
Carr had the effrontery to narrow his eyes.
“If it’s payment you’re worried about, my father has an account here. One you value highly, I’m sure.”