He turned away, but not before Kane caught something in the gentleman’s expression. Fear? Doubt? Confusion? Kane didn’t know if what he saw had to do with the idea of opening a brewery or something else. The baronet was a hard man to read. Kane would have to tread carefully, but he was determined to give Sir Heath the necessary tools to succeed in his new role. The problem would be making sure his feelings didn’t get in the way, because somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, Kane couldn’t ignore the inexplicable charm of Heath Foster.
CHAPTER3
What am I doing?Heath quickly regained his composure and stepped away from Kane. It had been madness, a moment of insanity, to be so familiar with a man he barely knew. Hopefully Kane saw it only as a gesture of comradery; over exuberance at best, but nothing more. Something in those ocean-blue eyes sparked a fire deep inside Heath; a fire that he could never allow to burn out of control.
As a young boy, Heath had found it odd that when his friends had pointed out attractive girls, he’d never seen the appeal in them. Over the years his eyes had tended to stray to the male sex, but Heath had never acted on his feelings. Though the Navy had supplied ample opportunities, especially on the long sea voyages, Heath had never partaken.
Focus!
Heath cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should get back. I don’t want Mrs. Baum to worry.”
Hopefully his voice didn’t sound too strained. Being so close to Kane, it was the first time in Heath’s life that he honestly wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss another man. But as usual, he pushed those feelings aside. Best not to scare off the tutor with his unsavory thoughts.
“I’ll write that letter and post it tomorrow. If it’s all right with you, there are a few supplies I need to pick up from town as well,” Kane said as they left the brewery.
“Of course. I don’t want you to think you have to spend every moment of the day at the house. Besides, I have a dinner party tomorrow night that I must attend.” Even though Heath was loath to go. He had been to the minimal number of social functions required for his station in the county. The locals had welcomed him, but Heath still detested being in crowds.
The men returned to the manor. After dinner they spent the evening reading poetry, something Heath found he enjoyed. Kane sat next to him, their thighs brushing against one another. The man probably had no idea what the mere shifting of his leg did to Heath. Even through the layers of fabric, Heath’s skin was heated from where their bodies touched. It was both thrilling and nerve-racking to have such a reaction.
The next day, they went through the same routine of reviewing different subjects during the morning. After lunch, Kane suggested they start on the ledgers. Heath had a basic knowledge of sales, since running his family’s farm had meant making sure they got a fair price for their crop. Even though Heath’s head ached, by the time they finished, he definitely had a firmer grasp on what the columns of sums and figures meant. Kane had been patient, explaining anything Heath had trouble with. The man was a saint, Heath thought.
By late afternoon, it was time to prepare for his dinner engagement.
“I hate these bloody dinner parties,” he said to Kane as he stood up from his chair and stretched his legs.
“Why? I would think a gentleman like yourself would enjoy these affairs. All those pretty ladies vying for your attention.” Kane grinned.
He was right. Since Heath’s introduction into local society, every woman of marriageable age had introduced herself to him. The moment he stepped into a room, they cornered him. At times, Heath wished he was back in the war. At least then he had known what weapons to use to defend himself. Against a hoard of jabbering women, he was defenseless, and he hated it.
“I don’t much care for crowds. And the incessant barrage of women is not as exhilarating as one would think. I’m not used to so much attention, nor do I care for it.”
Kane gave an understanding nod. “I’m sorry I cannot give you lessons on how to dissuade ladies.”
“It’s a necessary evil, so I will tolerate it, like I have many things in my life.” He knocked his cane against his bad leg.
“Then have a good night, sir. I am going to town to see if it’s not too late to send a telegraph to my father.” Kane bowed and left the room.
Heath’s gaze followed Kane until he left the room. He would have preferred to spend another quiet evening at home, but he had no choice. If nothing else, Heath understood it was important to be on good terms with his neighbors, not just for social reasons but for business as well.
Since he’d befriended Jasper Dawkins, the man had filled Heath in on who was doing what business, who was trustworthy and who was not. A dinner invitation acceptance today could mean open doors down the road, so Heath would do his part and act the country gentleman.
Jenkins helped him shave and change into his evening attire. By the time Jenkins handed him his gloves, Heath’s palms were already sweaty, so he simply carried them.
The carriage ride to Lord Rathborne’s estate took a half hour. Heath kept the carriage windows open, allowing the cool summer breeze to dry the moisture which had formed on his brow. He fiddled with his collar. Why did the gentry have to wear so many clothes in the summer? In his old life, he would be in a shirt, his sleeves rolled above his elbows, instead of the starched shirt with collar, vest, and jacket he was presently wearing. But that was in the past. Now he had to look the proper gentleman, even if he did not feel like one.
Torches lined the drive, illuminating the way for the arriving carriages, leading them to the grand staircase, already filled with guests making their way into the house. Lord Rathborne was a viscount. From what Jasper had told him, Rathborne was the wealthiest man in the county, so it wouldn’t have been polite to decline the invitation. Heath had nothing against the viscount, or anyone really. He just detested being forced into close proximity with so many people.
Heath took a fortifying breath before stepping down, cane firmly in hand. He blended into the crowd that entered the front door. There were more people than he would have guessed. The house was lit with electric wall torches and candles from glittering chandeliers. A footman offered him a glass of champagne, which he took but did not drink. He needed his wits about him.
“Sir Heath, you made it.” Lord Rathborne, the host of the party, greeted him.
“It is a pleasure to be invited, your lordship.”
“How are you getting along?”
The older gentleman had spoken to Heath the previous week at a pheasant shoot they had both attended. He reminded Heath of his own father with his congenial attitude and occasional words of wisdom. It also didn’t hurt that Heath was an excellent shot, thanks to his time in the military. Hunting was Rathborne’s favorite pastime, so Heath had easily gained his approval.
“I am getting on well, sir. I have hired an estate manager and am considering re-opening the old brewery.”