“Enough!” Miles bellowed. She would not speak ill of Verity and he fixed her with the full force of his glare. “I suggest you end there or I shall rip up any contract for a new stipend within a breath.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t. Not over some…”
Jeremy, wearing a refined pale blue, lightly cleared his throat from where he was sitting on the sofa.
“Have you something to say?” Aunt Mildred twisted her head. “No, I didn’t think so.” She flapped a paisley shawl. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such wretched offspring and nephew.” She rose to her feet. “I thought the Taits from trade were bad but an art–”
“No more!” thundered Miles. “No more of the admirable Taits or the charming Miss Seymour, and if I hear of you spreading gossip, thatsmalltownhouse of yours that I own will be leased to more deserving tenants. You, meanwhile, will havethe choice to live in either Riggs Moor upon the Yorkshire Dales or Tyle Garw in the Brecon Beacons.”
“I beg your pardon!” She held a hand to her bosom. “The Stonewold earldom has no estates in such godforsaken places.”
Miles curved his lips. “We will do if I hear so much as a gasp from you concerning Miss Seymour.”
At last, he beheld comprehension in her eyes.
“You are nothing like your brother.”
“No, I am not. And I care naught for the opinion of you or theTon. Good day, Aunt Mildred.”
Doubtless a dozen unpleasantries trembled on her lips but the loss of stipend and townhouse would win out.
It did and her eyes lowered. “Jeremy, come,” she hissed. “We shall see ourselves out.” And she swished from the study, skirts flapping like a standard in retreat, her elder son trailing.
Miles braced one hand against the mantelpiece before a slow handclap ensued.
“Well said.”
He swivelled to Alasdair who’d kept his counsel upon the corner chaise, cradling what was left of the unfavoured Lowlands Bladnoch in his lap.
“Though she was correct on one matter,” he continued. “You do look like a man who’s not slept for…oh, about five nights, I’d say.”
Miles merely grunted, grabbed the poker and took his frustration out upon the coals. A plan was required. In all haste. He needed this whoreson caught so more pressing matters could proceed apace.
Verity had laid siege to him, a force that would not be denied, and he was ready to surrender.
He needed her.
Courtship be damned.
Heaving a sigh, he replaced the poker and turned. “I miss her, damn it.”
Dair smirked. “Well, remember my motto…”
“Never drink one’s own liquor if someone else’s is available?”
“Amusing and true. But no…” His eyes gleamed. “When you want something, take it.” He quaffed the remainder of his whisky, grimaced, rose and sauntered out.
Miles linked his hands behind his neck and ordered his thoughts.
“Lynch!” he yelled.
“Blister me ears, ‘C’tain. I were only in the hall.” And his factotum stepped smartly into the drawing room. “Making sure yer cousin ain’t pilfered a decanter.”
“He won’t. There’s no Glenlivet left.” Miles scrunched his eyes. “Set up a meeting with my man of affairs, will you, and the solicitors. Perhaps we have set our sights too narrow thus far. Perhaps with all that hellish paperwork when I inherited, I signed something that has caused this.”
“Will do.” Lynch scratched his nape. “And if yer going down that route, might be worth sending a message to the estate steward. See if any tenants have a grievance. ’Tis a long shot, to be sure but…”
“No, good idea. We’ll proceed on all fronts.”
