Page 9 of Earl on the Run (The Duke's Estates 2)

The man seemed glad to pause and lean on his hoe. “Aye. Making it grand as a palace. Or so this Winstead fella thinks, any road.”

“Master of the hall, is he?”

“He isnow. Bought the place ten years back and changed the name. Brant Hall was good enough for everybody before that.” The man scratched at the front of his smock. “They say this Winstead made a packet of money in foreign parts.”

“And now he’s back with his family to enjoy it, I suppose,” Jack prompted.

“Nobody reckoned he had any family, but he’s brought a pair of ladies along this time. Daughter and granddaughter, I hear.”

Jack felt certain Miss Snoot was the latter. And that he would soon find her. “Sounds like a lucky man,” he said, ready to be on his way.

“I don’t know about luck. They say he gets above himself. Tries to act like a lord when he ain’t any such thing.” The man hawked and spit. “We got a lord, over to Ferrington Hall. Don’t need any other.”

“Ferrington, is it?” asked Jack, diverted.

“The earl lives there. Always has.”

Alwaysseemed an exaggeration, but Jack couldn’t help asking, “What’s he like then?”

For the first time, the laborer looked uncertain. “Dunno. His lordship died near on a year ago. The Rileys are waiting for the new fella to show up.”

“Rileys?”

“They’ve watched over the place. Well as they can with no help. It’s all gone to pot, I’d say. The new earl ought to set things to rights.”

“Why do you need some lord swanning about, giving orders?” Jack asked him.

The man frowned. “The earl looks after the people hereabouts, gives a helping hand where needed. Belike he’d put this Winstead in his place.” This idea clearly gratified him. “The last lord weren’t much for settling disputes. Folks are hoping for better with the new one.”

“Sam, are you working or not?” called an older laborer from the other side of the field. “Cause if you’re not, you may as well take yourself off.”

Jack’s informant made a sour face and turned away to ply his hoe.

Jack sauntered down the lane, maintaining his character as an idler while he thought over what Sam had said. He knew nothing about the duties of an earl. He hadn’t realized that a neighborhood might rely on such a person.

Once he was out of sight, Jack began to look for a spot to observe Winstead Hall without being noticed. He found one quite easily. The place had no high walls and seemingly no thought for security. Builders, more than likely strangers to the household, swarmed over one end of it. He was unlikely to be marked.

In less than an hour, Jack had his answer. This was indeed the dwelling place, if not the home, of the lovely Miss Snoot. Who was perhaps really Miss Winstead. She walked out of the house and into the gardens at midafternoon, wearing another fashionable gown, again holding a parasol. Jack waited to see if she might venture out toward Ferrington Hall. But she began a circuit of the gardens instead, and he found he was disappointed. He’d thought she had more spirit than that, or more interest in him. He began to make his way toward her, using the cover the lush gardens provided.

***

Harriet walked fast, plagued by an excess of energy. This visit to the country was an unsettling combination of tedium and tension. She had books to read, a pianoforte to play, and her mother’s company, but she was accustomed to the society of her friends from school. They’d still seen each other nearly every day during the London season, and she missed them very much. Instead of their pleasant company, she had what was now defined as her family. She was required to make amiable conversation with her grandfather each evening, under her mother’s tremulous, anxious gaze. Any misstep brought her reproaches from both sides. It was oppressive.

The noise of hammering and the calls of the builders followed her along the paths. The Winstead Hall garden was noisy all day, even at the farthest end from the construction works. The tumult was another push outward, toward the small woodland and Ferrington Hall. But when she’d walked there again yesterday, Jack the Rogue had not been in evidence. Harriet had realized she’d expected him to be awaiting her return. She’d imagined he was as struck by her as she was by him, and his absence had stung. Though tempted to ask the Travelers about him, she hadn’t quite dared intrude on their camp. She supposed she would never see him again, which was…too melancholy a thought for comfort.

And on that note of wistful regret, the man stepped out of the shrubbery and saluted her.

Harriet felt her jaw drop in astonishment. “You!”

“None other, Miss Snoot.”

“Don’t call me that.” His smile was as dazzling as she remembered, a flash of white teeth in a tanned face, reaching and warming his brown eyes in a way that seemed to heat her as well. Though he didn’t look a great deal older than her nineteen years, he had such a confident air. She imagined this man had lived a life crammed with adventure. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Not much to stop a visitor. I thought I’d see where you came from.”

“You searched for me?” That was why he’d been missing yesterday.

“I asked about the neighborhood. Miss Winstead, is it?”

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