Her Longed-For Family. Jo Brown Ann
her assistance; then she asked, “Why is having both this house and yourself make such a good first impression with your family so important to you?”
“A fair and honest question, and I shall give it a fair and honest answer.” He folded his arms in front of him. “My stepmother is bringing a young woman who she believes would make me the perfect bride.”
His tone was bleak. When she could not restrain her laugh, he regarded her with bafflement.
“I thought you might have empathy for me, my lady,” he said.
“Forgive me, but you sounded as if you were about to be marched off the plank by a band of rapacious pirates. Surely you are accustomed to matchmaking. An unmarried man with a title often finds himself the target of eager mamas.”
“I am not accustomed to it. Perhaps if I had spent time in London, where matchmaking has been raised to an art form, I would be. My brother is very happy with his wife, who was introduced to him by our stepmother. Do not mistake my words. I don’t mean to cast aspersions on the young lady. May I be blunt?”
“Please do,” she said, even though she wondered how much more straightforward he could be.
“It is the not the young woman herself I object to, for I have met her on occasion, and she seems quite pleasant.”
“Faint praise is no praise.”
“That was not my intention. I don’t object to the young woman in particular. I am not like you, my lady. I cannot balance children and a household and the needs of my family at the same time. Certainly not with the ease you display.” He smiled wanly. “I know I must marry one day because the family’s title requires an heir, but my focus at present is on keeping the mines operating and safe. I have no time now for courting or a family of my own.”
“I understand.”
His smile became more genuine. “I am glad. No one else seems to.”
“There are expectations on every member of the ton, especially...” She halted herself before she could say something untoward. To discuss her inability to conceive was sure to embarrass both of them. After all, she did not discuss such an intimate subject with her own family.
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “I see you have been the target of matchmaking, as well.” He did not give her a chance to respond before he went on. “I came to Cornwall as soon as I received my title because I had reports of the sorry situation with the mines.”
She nodded. “You have made many improvements, and I know people are grateful.”
“Doing that takes the majority of my time. I have not been able to convince my stepmother of that. If she sees the pitiful condition of the house, she will be even more determined I need a wife.”
“What you need are a carpenter and a maid with a dusting rag,” she said drily.
A roar of mirth burst from him. He laughed hard and had to lean forward to put his hands on his thighs while he struggled to regain control of himself.
Caroline smiled. Since she had first met him months ago, she had never heard such lighthearted laughter from him. Usually he was serious about the obligations that weighed upon him.
Raising his head, he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “I thought one had to be less blunt within the strictures of Society.”
“Yes, but beyond the polite and prim conversation at formal events, you will find people speak plainly. The goal is never to hurt another’s feelings.” She smiled. “I did not think you would be insulted by my comment.”
“Quite to the contrary.” He motioned for her to lead the way into the passage. “You must have known the situation was dire when I came begging for assistance. Maybe you did not realize how dire.”
Caroline decided silence was the best answer. The house was a disaster. As they walked along the corridor, she kept up a steady patter about cleaning and airing the draperies and rugs and the need to get all the cobwebs out of the corners of the intricate crown molding. She had no idea how many servants worked at Warrick Hall. As they toured the ground floor, she saw a butler and a cook, but two old retainers would not be enough to bring the house to a suitable state to receive guests. She was about to say that when she heard a skittering as she and Lord Warrick entered another room.
“You will need to do something about the mice,” she said. “Many women are frightened of rodents, no matter how small.”
“They don’t seem to bother you.”
“Not during the daylight. I would not appreciate waking up to the sight of one of them crossing my room, but that will not happen if their numbers are lowered. The best way is to bring cats from your outbuildings into the house. A good mouser will rid a home of vermin very quickly, especially if you make sure there is a fresh bowl of milk available as a treat.”
“A dandy idea.” He halted, putting his hand on a table hidden beneath a cloth. When a cloud of dust rose from the spot he had touched, he shook his hand clean. “I assume there are cats around, because I have not seen many mice in the stable. However, I have not seen any cats, either.”
“Your uncle used to complain there were more of them here than fish in the sea. I am sure we can find a couple to bring into the house.”
“Shall we look now?”
Caroline was about to say she needed to return to Cothaire, but halted when chiming came from a short-case clock hanging on the wall. In spite of the dust, Lord Warrick’s butler must have kept it wound.
“I can stay a bit longer,” she said, more pleased than she expected to be that she could help Lord Warrick with this small task. “I want to be at Cothaire when Joy wakes from her nap. She is peevish with teething.”
“It should not take too long to recruit a cat for mousing duty.”
Lord Warrick showed her the way to the stable. It was, she noticed, one of the few outbuildings with a door. The stable was in better condition than the house, but only slightly.
When they entered, the three horses inside stirred and regarded them with curiosity before returning to munching their oats. The space was surprisingly large and had as many cobwebs as Warrick Hall. Faint sunlight came from windows in the hayloft overhead.
A lad rushed out of a room beyond the stalls. “My lord, what may I do for you?” He put his fingers to his forelock as if tipping a cap as he glanced from Lord Warrick to her. “Shall I have the carriage readied?”
The baron stiffened. What an odd reaction to a commonplace question!
Then she wondered if she had seen something that was not there. Lord Warrick’s voice was unchanged. “That is not necessary, Howell. Have you seen any cats about?”
“Cats?” The lad nodded, eager to please. “There are always some about. Do you want me to try to find some and bring them to you?”
“No, just point us in the right direction.”
He looked toward steps at the far end of the stable. “They seem to gather in the lower haymow.”
“Thank you.” Lord Warrick offered his arm to Caroline, surprising her.
When she put her gloved hand on his coat sleeve, her fingers sparked as if she had grabbed a bolt of lightning. She almost jerked her hand away. Somehow, she kept her fingers on his sleeve, so she did not call attention to her reaction. If he felt it as well, she saw no sign, because his smile did not waver.
Bits of hay crunched beneath Caroline’s boots, releasing the aroma of dried grass to mix with the ancient dust dancing in the sunlight. She wondered how long it would be before the new stable at Cothaire smelled like this instead of freshly cut wood and paint.
Comparing this stable with Cothaire’s kept her from thinking about how Lord Warrick’s greatcoat brushed against her legs on each step. She could not ignore his