Page 16 of The Duke of Lies
“Oh,he’sThomas?” When Verity gave him a quizzical look, he said, “Beau mentioned him a few times yesterday. I wondered who he was.” He transferred the account book to his other hand. “Entwhistle is just going to have to understand that I will make the final decision.”
Verity bristled. “He’s expecting to work here.”
“And he probably will,” Rufus said evenly. “I can sense your…indignation, and I would remind you that you gave me full autonomy to run the estate.”
She had. So far, he’d done an excellent job, if firing Cuddy was any indication. Granted, it had only been one day.
It wasn’t as if she could argue with him. He’d been nothing but deferential and thoughtful since his arrival. Things could be so much worse.
“My apologies. This is an adjustment.”
“I understand. And I appreciate your trust.”
She nearly laughed.Thathe didn’t have.
And he likely never would.
Chapter 5
Luncheon had beena lively occasion with Beau introducing Kit to his new pet squirrel, Mr. Cheeks. His name was, of course, due to the amount of food he could stuff into the pouches in his mouth. Apparently, Beau had spent the last several weeks coaxing the animal ever closer to the house until the creature had finally come inside. Now he visited each day around midday, much to the chagrin of the three dogs who were also present. The two cats weren’t amused either as they kept their distance and glared at the squirrel—and the dogs, truth be told—with cool dismay.
The menagerie reminded Kit of his own childhood at the vicarage. His mother had loved cats, and his father’s best friend had been a scrappy terrier who was never more content than on his master’s lap. Which didn’t mean he also didn’t appreciate frolicking with Kit in the yard.
Those had been happy times. Before his mother had died in yet another failed childbirth. Before darkness had descended upon them and stolen his father’s joy.
Kit looked over at Verity riding nearby. She was a very handsome woman, and her seat was excellent. She looked as though she’d been born on a horse, the earth-brown skirt of her riding habit nearly blending with the flank of her horse.
She’d been nervous to have him see the stable, but then she was almost always nervous around him. If she wasn’t, she was confused. Or bemused. Or just outright confounded.
He still didn’t know what sort of beast he’d been, but he planned to find out. In fact, he’d hoped to do so today, thinking the tenants might shed some light; however, he’d surprised himself by inviting her to join him. That would make things a little more difficult.
She moved closer to him and gestured to the cottage just ahead. This would be their first stop, apparently. He didn’t expect to see the entire fifty thousand acres in one day, of course, but hoped they would visit a handful of tenants. First on their agenda was visiting Mr. Maynard and his goat herd.
As they rode into the yard, a woman came from the cottage, wiping her hands on her apron. A girl, not as young as Beau, trailed her down the steps.
Kit pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, then turned his attention to helping Verity down. He hadn’t helped her mount—one of the grooms had done that—and wondered what it would be like for him to touch her. Would she flinch? He half expected her to.
He reached up and gently clasped her waist, helping her to the ground in a fluid motion. He withdrew from her immediately, but the connection had told him several things: her waist was quite trim, she possessed a fair amount of muscle, and she really, really didn’t like him touching her.
As soon as her feet hit the earth, she moved away from him. She was also careful not to make eye contact. He didn’t blame her. He blamed her rotten excuse of a husband.
Kit turned his attention to the cottage. The girl who’d followed her mother outside was now heading toward a lean-to shed, while the woman strode toward them. She wasn’t wearing a bonnet, so she held her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes.
The duchess—whose name hestilldidn’t know—smiled at the woman. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Maynard.”
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Mrs. Maynard executed a fine curtsey. Her gaze dashed over to Kit, while her mouth twitched with perhaps a bit of nerves.
“Mrs. Maynard, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Blackburn.”
A short, sharp burst of pride bloomed in Kit’s chest. Would he tire of being introduced like that? Probably not, since he didn’t plan to be here that long.
Mrs. Maynard’s gaze flashed with surprise before she sank into a deep curtsey. She didn’t quite lift her eyes to his as she rose. “It’s a miracle you’re home, Your Grace. We prayed for your safe return every day.”
“Did you? Well, I appreciate that. My fortune is undoubtedly due to your thoughtfulness and grace.”
A pretty blush stained the woman’s cheeks as she finally looked at Kit’s face. But it was only a fleeting moment before she turned her head. He followed the direction of her attention and saw the girl coming back around the house. She was preceded by a man dressed in work clothing. A wide-brimmed hat shielded his face as he strode purposefully toward them.
Mrs. Maynard rushed to meet him and spoke to him briefly before he continued toward Kit and the duchess. It became clear that Mrs. Maynard had warned her husband as to the identity of their guest.
