“Your brother?” Kit guessed. Of course, it must be, and the Rossingley empire would grow even stronger, by-blow or not. Perhaps, Kit thought, with a glimmer of hope, he could find employ with Robert. That would solve some of his problems. “From what you have told me of his talents, he would be an excellent choice.”
“No,” said Lando, surprising him. “My brother has no desire to become landed gentry. He is perfectly at ease as he is, though I am confident he would relish the opportunity to advise a new owner. His knowledge of barley is unsurpassed, as the new owner will discover at the cost of many a tedious afternoon. No, not Robert. I was…I was actually thinking more along the lines of…”
Lando hesitated, giving Kit that look again, the one which made his belly flip because it was usually followed by a startling announcement. And on this occasion, Lando did not disappoint. “I was actually thinking of you.”
For a second, Kit wondered who ‘you’ was. Rich people had all sorts of silly names for their chums. Sir Brandon had a pal he fondly called Bunny because his surname was Babbit. Gartside had ridiculous chums named Beefy and Poodle, probably both dukes. Perhaps ‘you’ was another. But the odd look in Lando’s glittery eyes gave him pause, a mix of curiosity and…apprehension?
“I think the Angel estate has a rather nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”
“The…what?Me? You’re thinking of gifting it to me? I don’t know anything about farming! Or cottages or tenants or…or land!”
Lando’s gaze returned to the unkempt fields beyond. “Seemingly, nor did Gartside. It appears not to be an impediment to land ownership.”
“And look what a sow’s ear he made of it.”
“Leading me to conclude that anyone else will be a vast improvement,” responded Lando drily.
“Well…” Kit stuttered. “Yes. Anyone but me, obviously. I’m no gentleman.”
“You’re the finest gentleman I know.”
“Then you are the most damned deluded.”
A second too late, it occurred to Kit that not only was he shouting, but he was also being dreadfully rude to someone he loved who was being dreadfully kind. And who was now dreadfully hurt. Too late, Lando’s expression had taken on that glacial look, and he twisted away from Kit.
“Your gratitude is a credit to you, sir,” he managed. Then, with barely a click of his tongue, he turned Twilight around, further hiding his face. “Whatever your thoughts on the matter, the land is yours to do with what you will, Kit. The deeds are already being drawn up.”
As erect as the Tower of London and just as imposing, he began to trot away. Kit jogged after him.
“Hey, Lando. Wait! I can’t simply stroll into an estate and start claiming to be the rightful owner! Gartside might have lost it, but it belongs with a family such as his—nobility, gentry—not to a nobody like me.”
The horse continued its sedate trot, its rider staring straight ahead. Ridiculously, Kit found himself trotting, too, to remain alongside. “Say something, Lando. We…we…you and I, we are better than this.”
Lando’s lips pursed in a thin line. “Gartside’s grandfather won that estate at the tip of a sword. From a foolish French duke in a drunken duel, following an even more drunken game of basset. You and I have won it with cunning from a scapegrace unworthy of the grass growing under your feet. It is as rightfully yours as it was his.”
“Please stop, Lando. At least dismount before I tumble headfirst into a ditch. I am not your equal with you so high up there and me so lowly.”
With a sharp tug on the reins, Lando brought Twilight to a halt. “You have always been and will always be my equal, Kit. Whether I am on horseback or at the top of a mountain and you lying in a valley below. And if you believe my words, then you will discard your pride and accept my offer.”
He slipped from the saddle as easily as if stepping down from a low stool, then tossed the reins across a branch of an oak. Folding his arms, he leaned against the broad trunk.
“Please.” Kit faced him, this man he loved like no other and yet, now their adventure had come to an end, one he seemed destined to disappoint. “You and I have much to say to each other. But my head is a whirl. I can barely credit that I’m even here—why I’m not being dragged in front of a magistrate. You have won me my freedom and now offer me a fortune beyond anything I could ever dream.”
“And yet?”
“And yet, instead of showing gratitude, I find myself cross with you when I should be cross with myself. But can you not see how unequal we are?”
“No,” snapped Lando tersely. “All I see is foolish pride and the man I love being an ass.”
“Bravo. Like a true earl, you have spoken your mind.”
Shaking his head unhappily, Lando’s gaze drifted beyond Kit, to the fields stretching into the distance. “You talk of freedom, Kit. A man in my fortunate position can use it wisely and give it others. I offer you the estate not only for selfish reasons, so I may have you by my side, but for good ones too. Where Ambrose Gartside ruled this land and its people with contempt, you could do it with kindness. You know what hardship feels like. You could restore the farmlands back to health. Pay your workers sufficient to afford the doctor. Repair their cottages—stuffthem with more thatch than the workers have roofs. Until we find you a trustworthy man of business, Robert and my own man, Will Blandford, will assist.” His silvery eyes latched onto Kit’s, pleading and full of pain. “And my own knowledge is not too shabby.”
Kit groaned. How wonderful the picture he painted. How easy he made it sound. “But Lando. It’s too much, even for you. I’m sorry.”
Lando inhaled deeply, adjusting his riding gloves. “Then I have no more to say on the matter. I came up here to give Twilight a long canter. Not to beg for your company, your acceptance of my gift, or your love. You will come to me with open arms or not at all. All I ask is that you do not make your decisions in haste. This is not an offer I will make twice.”
*