Page 11 of The Moonstone Governess
Hollingsworth’s sisters, Lady Sarah and Lady Gemma, had bored looks on their faces. So had their cousin, Lord Danson, who adored bright popinjay colors and thought he struck quite a dashing pose in them. All he did was blind everyone with his colorful silks. He looked quite out of place and ridiculous.
The others were similarly out of place with their bejeweled attire and pale complexions.
“I intend to settle my mother and nephew here,” Daire said with finality. “Leave if you wish, but I am staying.”
His edict did not please them, but they quickly assured him they would stay on. It was not out of friendship, because these were not true friends but merely hangers-on. He was footing the bills, and these Hollingsworths were more than happy to go along with his plans, since they did not like to pay for anything themselves. Their own funds were spent on glittering trinkets. Hollingsworth, Danson, and the ladies routinely went through the generous allowance given them every month by their uncle, the Marquess of Haverlock, every last farthing frivolously applied to their own selfish purposes and nothing set aside for future needs.
Perhaps he would ship them off to Bath. They would only be in the way while he supervised repairs to Stoningham Manor. There was little time, and all had to be in order before his mother and nephew arrived. Besides, his mother did not care for his friends.
In truth, neither did he.
Well, Hollingsworth could be all right sometimes. The man wasn’t a complete dullard. But Daire had little patience for any of them right now. He could easily afford to ship them off to his townhouse in Bath. Of course, it was located in one of the most elegant crescents, because his family only acquired the finest. Yes, he would send them off once he and Brenna had firmed their terms.
“I’m afraid you will have to entertain yourselves today,” Daire said. “I will see you this evening at the assembly ball.”
They responded like lost children, whining and questioning why he would leave them on their own in this boring backwater. “What is so important that will occupy your time? Why can we not join you?” Lady Sarah asked, casting him a pretty pout.
“It is a business matter, and you will only delay me.” He slapped his hands to his thighs and rose.
“But you will be back in time for the assembly ball?” Lady Gemma asked. “Who are we to dance with if you are not there?”
He nodded. “I shall be back well before then, and you shall have your dance.”
He returned to his suite of rooms and ordered up a bath. Once washed and properly groomed, he walked over to Mr. Priam’s land office, which was on the high street along with most of the village shops and businesses.
The man’s eyes lit up when Daire strode in and told him he wanted to see Stoningham Manor again for the purpose of letting it. “Merely to let, my lord? I thought you wished to purchase.”
“But Miss Angel does not have a mind to sell, so I am authorizing you to offer her leasing terms. But I must tour the house again before I sign my name to anything. Tell her I wish to see it this afternoon, Mr. Priam. Make certain she is present on the tour. I do not intend to waste time haggling.”
“Yes, my lord. I shall arrange it at once. Miss Angel happens to be at the tea shop. I saw her there not ten minutes ago. If you will be so kind as to wait right here, I shall—”
“I’ll go with you,” Daire said, not caring that it was probably a bad idea, since Brenna had insisted on having him deal exclusively through Mr. Priam. But since when did Daire take orders from anyone?
Good thing he was put in charge of his cavalry regiments during the war, for he truly was not good at taking orders, and rarely bent to the will of others.
The little man cleared his throat. “It might be best if I—”
“No, Mr. Priam. We shall go over there together.”
Brenna was just finishing her tea when they arrived at Mrs. Halsey’s popular establishment. The aroma of cakes, pies, and bread baking in the ovens struck Daire as he strode in, and was enough to make his mouth water.
However, the most tempting morsel for him was Brenna.
Gad, she was pretty…in an impudent way. Big eyes, a pursed and pouty mouth that was as sweet as cherries, and unruly hair that blazed more red than brown in the sunshine.
She maintained an even countenance as he and Mr. Priam approached her table. “Do sit down, gentlemen.”
They took chairs on either side of her, but these wrought-iron chairs were ornately designed and meant for a dainty woman’s frame, not for big men such as Daire. He sat quietly as Mr. Priam began to do the talking for him.
“Miss Angel,” the man said, his beady eyes shining as he silently counted his profits, “His Grace, the Duke of Claymore, is seriously interested in your property. I have told him how exquisite it is, and he is eager to make you an offer on it. Now, I know you have mentioned it is not for sale. But he is a generous man, willing to offer generous terms. And we all know you are hard-pressed to maintain—”
“That is enough, Mr. Priam,” Daire said. “Miss Angel will not respond to your tactics. My offer, which I made clear to you, is merely to let the house from her for the remainder of the year. I know she is not yet ready to sell, and do not appreciate your coercing her.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, staring at him with marked surprise and a hint of appreciation.
He could be nice when he wanted to be.
“Miss Angel,” he said, trying not to smile at her continued expression of surprise, “will you be amenable to meeting us at Stoningham Manor this afternoon? I would like you to walk me through the property, after which we can discuss leasing terms that will suit us both.”
