Page 6 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Emotions he wasn’t yet ready to examine nagged at the edges of Lando’s conscience. Who would defend the next serving girl and the one after that? Where would Gartside’s tenants go when their roofs caved in? When the crops failed? When every last penny was gone?
Lando’s dislike of Ambrose Gartside stemmed from boyhood; he’d been a nasty sort of child, one who drowned kittens and stamped on spiders. That such an unattractive, unpleasant boy had grown into a contemptible rake, ruining innocent young women for pleasure and ignoring the responsibilities of his land, did not surprise Lando one bit. It vexed him though. Gartside was heaping shame on his hitherto good family name and ignoring his duty as custodian of the estate and the hardworking folk whose lives depended on it. Moreover, as Mr Angel so shrewdly observed, the world offered its condolences while comfortably spectating from the sidelines.
The young man had called for revenge, with his strong fists clenched and chin held high. A nourishing emotion, it outlasted most others unless attended to. If Lando’s beloved cavalry officer were still alive, his fighting spirit would have wholeheartedly approved. And despite grabbing Angel by the hair and booting him through the door—twice—his heart was telling him Charles would have expected Lando to assist his nephew in any way he saw fit.
With a sigh, Lando tugged on the reins, patted Twilight’s sleek withers, and turned the beast north.
His destination, the largest of his impeccably maintained tenant farms, sat high on a hill, commanding some of the finest views of the Rossingley estate. If he couldn’t seek Charles’s advice, then the opinion of the occupier of this property was the next best thing.
As Lando slipped from the horse and adjusted the sweep of his full riding coat, his troubled soul stilled. A sense of home and tranquillity stole over him. He could be himself here; he was amongst friends.
No doubt warned of his lordship’s arrival by one of several inquisitive small children, Robert Langford, whose extensive family of Langford’s had farmed Rossingley land since time immemorial, waited to greet him. After Lando handed the reins and thruppence to one of Robert’s eager brood, the two men embraced in the shadow of the sturdy farmhouse. As the two fair heads, resting on similarly angular shoulders, warmly bent to each other, an observer might be forgiven for mistaking them as brothers. And they wouldn’t be far wrong. Lando’s father had a few illegitimate offspring scattered around the estate, though he’d always seen their mothers and their issue well cared for, unlike Lando’s neighbour. Childhood friends, Lando and Robert had played side by side in the nursery and even schooled together until Lando had been sent away.
“I’m only stopping if your dear Mrs Langford has made a batch of her seed cakes with ginger sugar,” Lando announced. “I’m famished, hot, and desperately in need of your sound advice.”
Robert grinned, a grin not far removed from the rare, quick smile returned by the eleventh earl. “I’ve never met a problem yet that a slice of her seed cake couldn’t fix.”
Children scattered as he ushered Lando into his modest parlour. By a minor miracle, Lando was a father himself——and an indulgent one at that. Nevertheless, his lack of enthusiasm for other people’s progeny knew no bounds. A quarter-hour bathed in inconsequential pleasantries passed by until Mrs Langford departed, leaving the men alone save for the seed cake and a fresh pot of tea.
“To what do we owe the honour?” questioned Robert with a twinkle in his eye. “I’d have taken a bath if I’d known you were intending to visit.”
Smiling, Lando nibbled at a moist corner. “I have come with a proposition for you, Robert.” He wiped a crumb from his upper lip and sucked on his finger. Even his own cook failed to make ginger sugar as well as Mrs Langford. “It will involve travelling to town and skulking around. Chatting to some old chums. You may take one of the gigs, of course, and lodge at the town house. Do you think they could soldier on here without you for a few days?”
He posed the question because it was the polite thing to do; he had no expectation of Robert declining. It wouldn’t be the first errand he’d trusted to his loyal tenant and half-brother,and neither would it be the last. Garrulous and venturesome, Robert relished a trip into town and an opportunity to refresh old acquaintances. Privately, Lando believed he’d be much better suited to the earldom than himself.
“Our neighbour, Gartside, has been making several unwise decisions of late.”
“Nothing new there,” observed Robert. “That estate will be ruined if he doesn’t start paying it more attention. I had a look at his Chevalier barley in the north fields over the summer. All the leaf tips were yellow.” He shook his head. “Riddled with aphids. And if he’d planted Spratt like I said, then he wouldn’t now have bollworm running roughshod down to the lake either.”
At this point, Lando returned the full weight of his attentions to his cake. As much as he adored Robert, his brother sorely overestimated Lando’s interest in barley varieties.
“There has been a new development,” he cut in after a sip of tea and a lengthy discourse on maize. “And because of it, I’m wondering if the time has come to take Gartside in hand. I have become privy to a disturbing tale suggestive that Gartside’s poor form extends beyond crop husbandry and neglected thatching.”
Robert nodded at him over his china teacup with an expression Lando interpreted as disappointed but not surprised. It mirrored his own.
“May I ask why you would choose to involve yourself?”
A pertinent question and one which had troubled Lando long after he’d retired to his bedchamber last night.
“Because it is the right thing to do.”
He met Robert’s steady gaze. While Lando’s proclivities were a secret well hidden from theton,his long-serving loyal staff and half-brother were another matter entirely.
“And because…Charles would have wanted it.”
They ate in peaceful silence until the heavy rock of Lando’s grief settled once more. Robert Langford was the only person alive who comprehended the weight of it.
“So dig around, would you?” said Lando once he was able to speak again. “Starting with the hightonand working your way down. Visit a couple of gambling hells too. Find out which are Gartside’s favourites. Whether he has bills mounting with his tailor and so forth. He has deep pockets, but they won’t be bottomless. Speak to your pals on the door at White’s.”
Robert’s keen eyes lit up at the task—by a similar degree as Lando’s, who, by now, had tossed decorum out of the window, circling his plate with a wet finger and then lapping at the ginger sugar with his tongue as if they were back in the nursery.
“You have not mentioned Charles for over a year,” Robert observed in his usual blunt fashion. “May I enquire as to what has changed?”
“His niece has become Gartside’s latest toy.” Lando dabbed at his lips. “And as much as I’d prefer to do nothing, I don’t think I can sit by and let him get away with defiling another innocent girl. God knows our own father had a generous appetite, as did Gartside’s, but at least their conquests were willing spinsters. Or widowed, like your own mother. Not…” Anne Angel’s pale, haunted face flashed before his eyes. “Not naive and ruined.”
Robert chewed as he ruminated. “So it’s not simply about the estate.”
“No, although I’d rather his tenants didn’t suffer any more than they already have. I have an inkling he’s running short of ready blunt, but I need to be sure before I act.”
