Page 36 of Yielding to Love

And yet, he’d allowed the place to fall into disrepair.

The caretakers, Badge and Mrs. Badge were ancient. Jasper had hired a local woman, Mrs. Peele, to help out, mainly to take care of the caretakers. As Crispin stood in the doorway of the one decently refurbished bedchamber, Mrs. Peele came up from behind. She was of an indeterminate age, with steel-gray eyes and the bearing of an Amazon. Jasper had chosen well.

“Where would you like to start, Major?”

“Ha! Where would you suggest?

“Throw out everything moldy. Then scrub all the walls, ceilings, and floors. Patch the holes. Replace the skirtings. Then plaster and paint. To start.”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable.” She’d evidently been giving this some thought. But she’d left out mention of the garden, now overrun with weeds. He wouldn’t mind seeing to that himself. Although a garden might be melancholy without a certain black-haired gardener. Damn it! This had to stop. He’d never before been chased from place to place by thoughts of a woman. “But I don’t know any laborers around here.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. You’ve been off fighting Boney.” She hesitated a moment, then said. “I do.”

“You do what?”

“I know who you should hire to do what.” She frowned. “Mr. Carroll, when he was here with Mrs. Carroll, he made a list. But he said you’d have to approve it when you came.”

He laughed. Even on his honeymoon, Benjamin was incapable of enjoying his leisure. Crispin could sympathize. “Bring me the list.”

He hoped overhauling the cottage would be an all-consuming project. He needed a challenge. Or else he was just treading water until he drowned.