Page 85 of Cherish and the Duke
Gawain shook his head and sighed. “Are you the only woman in Creation who does not titter inanely and coo like a peahen?”
“Well, you did have me cooing quite a bit last night and again this morning,” Cherish reminded him.
He grinned wickedly. “Yes, I did.”
They gave their apologies to Fiona for missing the midday picnic she had planned for her guests, and then drove off in the borrowed rig. Cherish did not think it would take her long to assess the damage her oafish relatives had caused, since she had already seen much of their dereliction transpire over these past months.
But to her dismay, what she encountered was beyond comprehension. Potter had not exaggerated the wreckage done overnight by Northam and his wife to her childhood home. “They will pay for this,” Gawain said with a growl, and Cherish knew he did not merely mean monetary reimbursement.
He wanted revenge.
Cherish was in a daze as she walked from room to room and took in the slashed furniture, smashed vases, and curtains that had been pulled down.
Potter was quite glum as he escorted them from room to room. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I blame myself for not being more vigilant.”
“No,” Cherish said with a shake of her head. “How could anyone have foreseen such madness?”
“We stopped them after one of the footmen heard vases smashing and went to inspect the noise. Only then did we realize what they were doing, but it was too late to prevent all this damage. They are a vile pair, and they’ve stolen the family silver, too. I hope they choke on their silver spoons.”
“We shall redecorate,” Cherish said with determination. “Do we not need to get their stench out of this house?” She tried to make a jest of it, for Gawain was obviously fuming and mad enough to ride off to London this very day.
She did not want him going without her, and she was not ready to leave yet. She still had to assess the damage to the Northam farms and set about making repairs. In truth, she did not think those had been touched last night, because it would have required the evil pair to ride an hour in the dark just to reach the closest farm. The true damage to the farms had occurred over the months of their neglect. For her own pride, Cherish wanted to secure the income flow they had provided as recently as last year, when she had been in charge and the new earl had not gotten his hands on them.
Gawain did not care about her inheritance, and had never made her feel lesser for coming to him with nothing. But it irked her, especially now that she knew her father had not forgotten her.
“I doubt they set foot on any of the farms last night,” Potter remarked. “There wasn’t time. Thank goodness for small favors.”
They took inventory of the rest of the house, Cherish’s dismay increasing as not a single room had been left untouched. “Potter, have the staff continue to clean up this mess as best as they can. I doubt anything can be salvaged. Perhaps the torn canvas on the portraits of my parents can be repaired. I suppose this was done to purposely hurt me. They will have to be sent to a London art specialist for this task. Fortunately, they did not bother to slash any of the other paintings. I wonder why those were spared?”
“It could be that they were caught in the act before they had gotten around to destroying them,” Gawain said, taking hold of her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “They’ll feel ten times the hurt once I am through with them.”
“Horrible people,” Potter muttered. “Vile and vindictive.”
Cherish tried to look on the brighter side. “We shall turn this place into something spectacular. Lovelier than ever before.” She turned to Gawain. “The farms are very good income producers. I might need to borrow some funds from you at first. Merely an advance. But—”
“Cherish, everything I have is at your disposal,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. “Whatever you need, you shall have. It will be yours to do with as you wish. No loan. No advance. All of it freely given, along with my heart.”
Potter smiled with such pride at Gawain’s words. But the man had always been more of a protective grandfather than abutler to her, especially these past months since the death of her father and the arrival of her toad relatives.
As for Gawain, he was once more leaving no uncertainty as to the reason for their marriage. Honestly, was he going to shout his love from the rooftops next?
Cherish smiled up at him. Truly, she loved this man.
“You must stop gushing over me or everyone will believe you have turned soft as pudding,” she teased once Potter had left them to attend to the task of supervising the staff.
“No, love. Soft is not the way I would describe myself whenever I am around you.” He cast her a smoldering look that left no doubt about his meaning.
They climbed back in the rig and moved on for a quick inspection of two of the Northam farms. By this time, it was well into the afternoon and Cherish had developed a pounding headache. Although the farms had not been damaged last night, they had been neglected over the months and required some work to be put back in shape.
“Let’s call it a day, love,” Gawain said, once again helping her into the rig and noticing that she was rubbing her temples to ease the pounding in her head.
“I’m all right. Truly. We ought to make a stop in Brighton before returning to Fiona’s home. It won’t take us long to review the land registry records. If my head is still sore, there’s a reliable apothecary near the registry office. I visited him regularly when my parents were in failing health. He’ll give me something for this headache.”
“As you wish,” Gawain said, not entirely pleased by her decision. “But we can put off Brighton until tomorrow.”
“No, I’d rather keep going.”
He sighed. “Or I can drop you off at Fiona’s and then ride to Brighton on my own.”
