His father pulled out another ledger. “He did, but we are not destitute, and I do not want to see my son fixing a roof like a common laborer.”
With a shake of his head, Winston responded, “If it helps, fixing the roof wasn’t even my first priority. I have other things that will take up my time and money.”
“No, that does not help,” his father said flatly, closing the ledger.
Winston reached down for his glass and tossed it back. “Let me worry about my sheep farm and you worry about your estate.”
“My father helped me establish my household and I saw no shame in that.”
“We are vastly different people, Father,” Winston said. “I want to prove that I can do it all on my own.”
His father returned the ledger to the drawer. “You are stubborn, just like your Uncle Richard, but he was a good man.”
“As are you,” Winston said.
“Now I wonder if your head is bottle-weary,” his father joked.
Winston smiled as he walked the glass over to the drink cart and placed it down. “I am tired, and I think it is best if I retire for bed.”
“Before you go, you might want to stay far away from the drawing room,” his father advised. “Your mother and sisters are engaged in an intense game of whist.”
“Duly noted,” Winston said as he headed towards his bedchamber, being mindful to avoid the drawing room. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled in to play games this evening. He just wanted to be alone.
With the morning sun streaming through the window in her bedchamber, Mattie stared up at the ceiling. She’d had a restless night of sleep, her thoughts constantly drifting back to the moment Winston had brought up their kiss. What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Or was she just overthinking it, as she always did?
Even if Winston thought about the kiss as much as she did, it didn’t necessarily indicate any affection on his part. They had only recently declared a truce in their constant bantering. Surely, if he held any feelings for her, he wouldn’t have insulted her so harshly just the day before.
The sound of the door slamming could be heard echoing throughout the cottage, followed by her sister shouting, “I’m home!”
Mattie sat up in her bed and let out a sigh. She should be happy that her sister was home, but Emma always made everything about herself. It had been that way since she was little. Mattie couldn’t recall meeting anyone as self-absorbed. Hopefully, her time away at boarding school had done her some good.
Rising, Mattie slipped her wrapper on and headed down the stairs. She stepped into the drawing room just as her sister was instructing the driver as to where to placeher trunks.
“Emma,” Mattie greeted.
Her blonde-haired, blue-eyed sister turned towards her with a bright smile. “Mattie!” she exclaimed, rushing over to her. “You didn’t have to come down so disheveled on my account.”
Mattie smoothed back the red hair that had fallen out from her cap. “I wanted to be the first to greet you.”
“And you succeeded, but aren’t you worried to be seen in such a state?” Emma asked, taking a long look at her.
“It is good to see you, too,” Mattie muttered, her enthusiasm waning.
Emma’s eyes roamed over the drawing room. “This place has not changed one bit,” she said.
“Why would it?” Mattie asked. “You know how particular Father is.”
“Yes, but Father is a viscount now. He can’t live in such squalor anymore,” Emma remarked dismissively. “I heard that Franny is here.”
“She is, but I do believe she is still sleeping,” Mattie confirmed.
Emma glanced over at the stairs. “Shall we go wake her? I have no doubt she wishes to see me.”
Mattie mustered up a smile, hoping to distract her sister. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No,” Emma said, placing a hand to her stomach. “I have not. The companion Father sent to accompany me refused to wait a moment longer at the boarding house this morning. She claimed an insufferable headache.”
“Well, why don’t we have Mrs. Watson prepare something for you to eat?” Mattie suggested. “That is far preferable to waking up our cousin at such an early hour.”
