AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘You were very rude to my aunt earlier and she is still upset about it. So upset she has taken to her bed this afternoon because she doesn’t have the strength to even face the Friday Sewing Circle which she has never missed once in thirty years.’ She wagged her finger at him and, just like that, the reasons for her distinct lack of husband became apparent. She was an outspoken and opinionated nag of the first order. ‘What on earth gives you the right to be so rude to a gently bred woman of such advanced years?’
‘The same right that allows you to slander me in public with the other fishwives this morning while pretending to peruse a fruit stand in case I noticed. Which I did, by the way. I’d have to have been blind and deaf not to.’ She hadn’t expected that response and blinked rapidly as she gaped like a fish.
‘We weren’t slandering you, my lord, we were all merely vocalising our curiosity as people are prone to do when they know little about a person. Especially when the person has taken up residence in our midst but is reluctant to be known by his neighbours.’
‘Why would I want to know them when they all seem to be of the opinion that the world could do without more Peels and their tainted blood?’ He smiled sweetly as he parroted that spiteful comment even though it stuck in his throat. It was no easier saying than it was hearing it, and he had heard it so many times he had lost count. Almost always from the lips of women before they bade a hasty retreat.
Her expression altered to one of begrudging contriteness. ‘Those were not my words, Lord Hockley. That does not excuse them, however, and if I am guilty of anything this morning, it is of not saying as much to all those gathered. Talking about someone behind their back is rude and inexcusable and I apologise for my perceived part in any offence caused.’
Perceived! The nerve of the woman. As if he had read their furtive stares and horrified expressions wrong. And it hadn’t been done behind his back, it had been right in front of his face. Brazenly.
‘However, two wrongs do not make a right, my lord, and my poor aunt was, at best, an innocent bystander this morning who took no part in that uncalled-for slander. Therefore, she did not deserve your callous treatment of her when she attempted to introduce herself to you. If you will allow me to be frank, my lord...’
‘Do I have any choice in the matter, Miss Gilbert?’
Her dark eyes narrowed at his interruption as her brows kissed above her disdainful and currently wrinkled nose, but she tried to temper her tone despite failing to do the same to her words. ‘It is very poor form that a good tenant of the Peel family for over sixty years has to seek you out in order to introduce themselves, when a decent landlord would have sought them out in the first instance, rather than leave them to flounder in limbo for over a week worrying as to your intentions. My aunt has a right to know who she pays her rent to.’
‘As I understand it, all rent is paid to the steward, Mr Higgins, and has been for the last twenty years.’
Her lips pinched at the mention of the estate manager’s name. ‘He regularly collects it—and diligently to be sure—but as I understand it, it is then paid directly into your coffers. Therefore, surely good manners dictate...’
Rafe laughed. She was so sanctimonious and self-righteous he couldn’t help it. ‘Do not presume to lecture me on good manners, madam, when you have so few of them yourself. But please do apologise to your aunt on my behalf for my curtness this morning. It is not usually my habit to be rude to old ladies, but then I am not usually the subject of vicious village titillation either nowadays, so she caught me on an off day.’ And because that was all Rafe was prepared to say on the subject for the sake of his quiet life, he inclined his head politely. He grabbed Atlas’s reins, enjoying the woman’s outrage perhaps a little too much than was gentlemanly because it did wonders for her bosom and made those attractive eyes sparkle. ‘Good day to you, Miss Gilbert.’
He had walked a good ten feet away when she found the wherewithal to speak again. ‘When I apologise to my aunt on your behalf, can I also reassure her that she will continue to be a good tenant of the Peel family going forward?’ His feet paused as yet more guilt washed over him. ‘She knows no other home, my lord, and her health is not good, so to lose the cottage she has spent a lifetime in would likely be the death of her.’
‘I have no immediate plans to evict her.’ Which was a cowardly answer he wasn’t proud of, but a version of the truth. As her current landlord he had absolutely no intentions of doing anything at all for as long as it took to be rid of the place. What happened after that was anybody’s guess, but by then he intended to be miles away buying horseflesh and it would no longer be his concern. Not that he was going to indulge in any concern before he sold either. He had a perfectly good plan to remain detached, distant and guilt-free, and he would stick to it no matter what.
‘It is not your immediate plans which worry me, my lord, it is your future plans. May I enquire as to those?’
Despite the voice screaming in his head to keep walking and avoid elaborating, Rafe was compelled to turn then really wished he hadn’t. Those pretty brown eyes were filled with anguish now and that tugged on his heartstrings, pricked his conscience and churned the acid in his gut some more exactly as he had known it would. But he had to stand firm because he owed these strangers nothing. Nothing! Whereas he owed Archie the world.
He hardened his soft heart and smiled, trying to ignore the shocking state of the walls of the cottage he apparently owned behind her. Walls which looked as though the only thing holding them up were a wing and a prayer and the ancient, tangled vines of the barren wisteria wrapped around them. ‘Once I have some, I shall be sure to appraise you of them, Miss Gilbert.’
‘An answer which avoids the question.’
Uncomfortable, Rafe fiddled with Atlas’s bit rather than look at her or the appalling state of the thatch which clearly hadn’t been replaced this century. ‘Perhaps...but the best I have today.’
They both knew that was a shocking lie and he winced because Miss Gilbert absorbed it like a body blow.
‘Then I must assume from your reticence and inability to meet my gaze, sir, that all the rumours are true.’ She regarded him now as if he were a monster rather than an annoyance or a disappointment. ‘You do intend to sell Whittleston-on-the-Water from under us.’
He shrugged, forcing his eyes to meet hers, oddly ashamed of the truth even though he had no cause to be. ‘It is for the best, I can assure you. I am not cut out to be a landlord nor ever had any desire to be one.’ At least that was the truth. ‘And there is every chance that whomever my successor is, he will be much better suited to the role and will do a much better job of it than I ever could.’ He attempted a smile of reassurance which he feared fell wildly shy of its mark. ‘And he’ll probably do it better than my predecessor did too, if the ramshackle state of most of the village is any guide.’
His gaze instinctively flicked briefly to her cottage again and it took all his willpower not to wince because parts of the wattle and daub structure really did look ready to collapse. The spluttering chimney especially looked like a puff of wind would send it tumbling. His long-lost, dead as a doornail second cousin should have done something about that if he had the gall to charge an old lady rent for it.
‘And there is every chance he will simply want the land, Lord Hockley. The opportunities to purchase an impressive, sprawling, largely unentailed estate this close to London are rarer than hen’s teeth. His views of the Thames would be quite spectacular without the inconvenience of our ramshackle village in the way.’
