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When Jeannie began to argue, Kathleen held up a hand. “This is not up for discussion. In the absence of our parents, I am your guardian. And it’s best you return to London.”
Her sister’s glare was hot enough to singe Kathleen’s eyebrows. “I’m not leaving and you can’t make me.”
“Dearest, please be re—”
Jeannie stamped her foot. “No! I’m not leaving David, and nothing you can say will change my mind.”
And with that, she stormed out of the room.
“Oh, Lord.” Kathleen sank back into her chair. “Do you think it’s too early to have a drink?”
Sabrina grimaced in sympathy. “At this rate, I might very well join you.”
* * *
Rather than take refuge in a morning tipple, Kathleen had turned to the garden. She’d mulched vegetable beds, sorted herbs for drying, and carted dirt back and forth in a wheelbarrow. Though one of the stable boys had offered to help, she’d needed the hard work to keep her mind off what to do with her stubborn little sister and what to do with Grant Kendrick.
The first problem was immediate and evoked anxious frustration. That Jeannie was as out of control as a wobbly top had been amply demonstrated by last night’s events. The only realistic way to keep her sister from harm was to get her back to London and under Helen’s watchful eye. But short of tying Jeannie up and sitting on her for the entire trip, Kathleen very much doubted she would prevail.
She knelt down on the grass verge to yank out an especially recalcitrant beetroot and then tossed it into the wheelbarrow.
“Face it, old girl,” she muttered to herself, “you’ve royally cocked it up.”
“Did you say something, Kathleen?”
She let out an exasperated sigh at the sound of the voice before looking up at the giant looming over her. The blasted man was so handsome in his riding gear, with a smile lifting the corners of his oh-so-delectable mouth, that she almost forgot to be annoyed with him.
“Sneaking up on me again, Mr. Kendrick? Such a bad habit.”
He crouched down beside her. “As I suggested last night, you should put a bell on me.”
“That wouldn’t be very practical for someone skulking about after various and sundry villains, now would it?”
“You have me there, lass.”
She eyed him. Despite the warmth of his expression, she could see the fatigue in his eyes and the lines of worry around his mouth.
“I take it you’ve been doing just that this morning,” she said.
“Yes, without much success. Graeme and I went over the scene very thoroughly but found little that could point us in the right direction.” He grimaced. “Or any direction.”
“I’m sorry. It must be so frustrating.”
“Especially for my brother. He’s ready to go on a rampage. Stealing, vandalism, and even a highway robbery are significantly different from arson.”
“I’m sure Graeme is very grateful to have your help and support.”
“He is. Not that I’ve been able to do much thus far.”
She glanced down at his feet. “It seems you’ve been out scouring meadow and glen, though. Getting rather muddy, if your boots are any indication.”
“I was following a set of fresh footprints along the stream and then through a barley field behind one of the tenant farms. Turns out they belonged to the farmer’s son.”
She gave him a gentle poke on his brawny bicep. “Surely you’re not giving up? That’s not the Kendrick way, from what I understand.”
“No, it’s not. I only returned to the manor because bad weather is heading our way.”
She hadn’t noticed until now the dark storm clouds gathering over the craggy peaks in the distance. “That does look quite ugly.”
