Bertridge nodded. “No doubt, he is bold. Though, how he expects to straighten out Somerdon is a mystery.”
“And there, we are in full agreement, my love.”
“Now what do you do, closeted away up here?” Lord Bertridge asked. “Dare I hazard a guess you are hiding from my aunt?”
“Let us not call it hiding,” Caroline said, laughing. “Let us call it staying out of her way. I have heard from my maid that Lady Easton is on a rampage about organizing and labeling the spices in the kitchens. Cook’s assurances that she knows what everything is without a label on it has fallen on deaf ears and that poor lady is fanning herself in a corner somewhere.”
Lord Bertridge sighed. He was very fond of his aunt. He just wished she was not so organized. Or so energetic. Or so interested in the workings of his house.
*
Harry had rarelybeen in such a temper. As a usual thing, he was not inclined to anger. If a circumstance did set him off, which was rare, the feeling did not linger. He was of an optimistic and cheerful temperament.
Not so now.
Now, he’d already spent a full night seething. Everything that had led up to Lady Isabel’s refusal of his suit could be laid at her father’s door. Therefore, all of his anger had turned in that direction.
They’d left London at dawn and he’d seethed on horseback all the way to Hertfordshire. He only seethed more as the day grew brighter and he turned down Lady Isabel’s drive. The lane was so overgrown as to be half its original width. He did not think his anger could possibly bloom any larger, but on approach to the house, it did.
Missing windowpanes, shingles from the roof scattered across the drive, a fountain that did not look as if it had been operational in a decade—the place was crumbling around the earl’s ears.
If there were anything edifying about the scene, it was that it had transformed what he understood about Lady Isabel. He had intellectually known perfectly well that her fears were rooted in what she had lived. Now, he’d seen it with his own eyes. Now he’dviscerallyfelt it, as she would have done. Now, he began to see why she could not put aside her fears.
My God, if the earl could not afford servants, he could have very well walked out here himself and cleaned this mess up.
Smith looked about and muttered, “Apparently there is no broom on the premises.”
Harry was ready to throttle the earl before he reached the front doors.
He and Smith dismounted their horses. Harry was not surprised that no groom came running. They found the stables themselves, and he and Smith discovered one lone horse inside that ramshackle building. They rubbed down their own horses, found some oats and hay, and watered them.
Then, they went back to the front of the house and Harry pounded on the doors.
Chapter Sixteen
After waiting whatseemed to be a full five minutes, Harry pounded again. Finally, the earl’s doors slowly swung open.
Before him stood a butler as old as Methuselah. Harry got the idea that his knocks might have been heard the first time, but it had just taken the fellow that long to get to the door.
“Mr. Harry Vance, here to see the earl,” he said through gritted teeth.
The butler looked very confused, and Harry wondered if he were suffering from an age-related dysfunction of the mind.
“He expects you?” he asked, in a high, breathy voice.
“He does not,” Harry said. “Though he ought to have been expectingsomebodyto call him on the carpet about this mess. I have no intention of leaving without an interview. I can stand here all day.”
This seemed to have the desired effect. Harry was certain the man could not remain upright for long and so would be the inevitable loser in a standoff.
The butler shrugged and turned, shuffling to a nearby bench, where he promptly sat down with various creaks and groans.
“In the breakfast room. That way,” he said pointing down a corridor.
Harry should have known this particular earl would be so lackadaisical as to be breakfasting so late in the morning.
He set off down the corridor, with his valet on his heels. Harry noted the cobwebs in every corner and dirt on the stone floor. He was sure a mouse had just darted away. There were stains on one wall, as if somebody had tripped carrying a tea or coffee pot and spilled its contents. The place had not been cleaned anytime this year.
He found the breakfast room, and he found the earl in it. From the looks of it, breakfast consisted of toast. There was no sideboard, no warming trays with meats and eggs. No smell of coffee brewed. Just toast.
