“Right enough, my lord,” Glazebrook replied with his usual dour expression. “To be honest, I’m a Lancashire lad at heart. This is where I belong.”
Griff regretted it had taken him so long to realize the man had never really been happy in the big city. “Well, let me tell you about Orion while we walk and you can share your thoughts on how we should proceed.”
Rogerson soon joined them. Tom explained his recommendations regarding rearranging the stables to accommodate the thoroughbred away from the mares. “Like at Pendlebury Stables,” he said.
They agreed on the need for a separate stable to eventually be built for Orion. The current stable would have to be expanded. Rogerson took charge of both projects.
Lengthy discussions ensued about how to convert Clifton’s paddocks into something resembling the set up at Pendlebury. Griff wasn’t surprised when Tom asked, “And what do ye intend to do with the operation down south, my lord?”
“It’s a good question,” he replied. “I can either sell the farm and the horses, or we can figure out a way to bring some of the best mares here.”
“So, ye intend to move north for good?”
Griff might have expected his northern stable master to ask forthright questions—ones he should really have been asking himself. “I mean to hold on to the London townhouse for when I attend sessions in the House of Lords, but I see no reason to keep the farm. I’ve discovered I’m a Lancashire lad at heart too.”
“Always knew it were so,” Tom replied with a rare grin. “This Lady Susan must be a rare prize.”
Satisfied with his productive afternoon, Griff spent the hour before dinner luxuriating in a hot bath. Fantasizing about sharing the big tub with hisrare prizeresulted in the inevitable arousal which a few firm strokes quickly assuaged. “You need to be more patient,” he rasped to his flaccid cock as he stepped out of the tub. “Less than three weeks and you’ll be home.”
After the accident, he’d loathed dining alone in the enormous dining room. This evening, the delicious meal of Cornish hen, roasted potatoes and carrots assured him Potts had staffing of the kitchens firmly in hand. Content and replete, he leaned back in his new Sheraton chair and envisioned Susan seated beside him at the satinwood table, and, God willing, a bevy of intelligent, healthy and curious children.
After thanking Potts for replenishing the bar with an excellent brandy, he retired for the night, the resourceful Frederick serving as his valet. It wasn’t the first time he’d had erotic dreams but, tonight, the woman in his fantasies had a face and a name.
“Susan,” he rasped upon awakening with a rock-hard morning erection.
What’s Going on Here?
Anxiously expecting tosee Arthur, Tillie’s heart sank when she exited the almshouse. One of the Watchman’s thugs lounged against the brick wall.
Terror-stricken, she tried to fathom how they’d found her. Arthur was the only person who knew she was in Preston and he would never betray her.
She tried to hurry past him but he grabbed her arm. “Come with me,” he growled.
Her only hope was to create a fuss. Surely some Good Samaritan would come to her aid, although it was a drizzly afternoon and there weren’t many about. She yanked her arm as hard as she could. “I’m not going back to Manchester,” she screeched.
“Arthur’s waiting for ye at Withins Hall, stupid cow,” he hissed, tightening his grip.
Confused, she let him drag her along, not truly believing Arthur had sent him. “You’re ’urting me,” she whined as they crossed the footbridge over the Ribble.
“Stop complaining and I’ll be gentle,” he said, his voice laden with sarcasm. “We’ve a long walk ahead of us.”
He let go of her arm when she nodded. She’d thought Arthur might come for her in a carriage. Instead, he’d sent a hoodlum whose presence would make the long trek seem even longer. And what was her beloved’s connection with the Watchman’s lackey? “I’m beginning to wonder about you, Arthur Coleman,” she muttered under her breath.
She almost had to run to keep up with the lumbering lout. The rain had held off but it was muggy. She was panting hard when he led the way through a gap in the thick hawthorn hedge bordering the Whiteside estate. It seemed Arthur still hadn’t smoothed things over with his father. She’d have to make it clear she was running out of patience.
Emerging from the thorny hedge scratched and bleeding, she espied Arthur, waiting outside the folly in the distance. Overcome with relief, she waved, disappointed when he didn’t wave back.
“What took so long?” he growled when she finally reached him. “I’ve been waiting an hour.”
She tried to organize her thoughts. There was something she’d meant to tell him, but was too exhausted to think. Close to tears, she tried to nestle against him. If he would just put his arms around her and…
“Get off me,” he exclaimed, backing away. “You’ll bloody my shirt.
*
“We’ve gone overthis ten times,” Arthur said. “What is it you don’t understand?”
He was just about at his wits’ end with Tillie. She’d done nothing but pout and complain of being thirsty since she’d arrived at the folly an hour ago. Truth be told, he’d be glad when the Red Bandanas took her off his hands.