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"Aye," he said, as if that was nothing extraordinary.
Fenella had never known want, and she moved in the highest social circles. But the thought of having the cash to pick up an entire estate on a whim made her finally accept the gossip about Mr. Townsend's wealth.
He leaped down with a vigor that belied his night of driving, and moved to offer his hand. She shivered as she accepted his help, not entirely because he'd taken his big, warm body away. "It might have had a leaky roof or dry rot. The fields might be prone to flooding."
"I sent a team of surveyors and farming experts down before I signed anything. I'm not one of your careless aristocrats, my lady. I work hard for my brass, and my brass works hard for me."
"So the building is sound?"
"It's rundown. That's how I persuaded old Grantley to sell. He didn't have the cash for repairs. Now I plan to turn this into a place Carey will be proud to come home to."
She couldn't fault his concern for his nephew. And knowing how he cared, she found the courage to catch his arm as he turned away to check the horses. At her touch, he went stock still. Whereas her words faded to nothing under the heat sizzling through her at the contact.
She snatched her hand away and stared bewildered at him. She was acting like a silly schoolgirl. And it wasn't as if they'd never touched before. In her opinion, there had been far too much touching since Mr. Townsend had blown into her drawing room like a tropical hurricane.
She swallowed to ease the inexplicable tightness in her throat. "You'll think I'm presumptuous."
His mouth quirked. "I'm a plain man who appreciates plain speaking. Surely you've
worked that out, Lady Deerham."
"In that case, I hope you'll listen to a little well-meant advice."
"Go ahead," he said neutrally as a groom ran out from the side of the house to take charge of the horses.
She lowered her voice. "I know you're angry with Carey and you think he ought to be punished."
Mr. Townsend folded his arms and regarded her with an unreadable expression. How she wished the light was better so she could interpret his reaction to her interference. "He's caused needless inconvenience and upset. I'm hoping that's all he's caused, and there are no other unfortunate consequences from this prank."
"Yes, he has. But you love the boy and want to build his trust."
"You're asking me to tiptoe around what he's done?"
"I'm asking you not to go in with all guns blazing."
"The way I did with you?"
What was the point of lying? "Yes."
"So I just pat him on the head and say no harm done?"
She sighed. "If they're both safe—and I pray they are—no harm has been done." When he didn't answer, she plowed on. "Just give him a chance to explain before you start tearing strips off him."
"What a poor opinion you have of me."
"Not at all. Not…now." She stopped before she said too much. Anyway, this was about Carey, not her mixed-up responses to Mr. Townsend. "Because your emotions are engaged, it would be so easy to make a fatal misstep and create a gulf between you. I want what's best for Carey. And…for you."
During a tense interval, he stared into her face as though he probed her soul. Then he nodded briefly. "I promise I'll listen to him. Beyond that, we'll see."
That was the best she'd achieve, she could see. She must be satisfied with his promise and pray that his temper didn't win out.
In most things, he was a reasonable man. But there was such guilt and anger, sorrow and love wrapped up in his feelings for his nephew that she wasn't sure which way he'd jump when he saw Carey.
"Thank you," she said quietly, and let him take her arm as they mounted the wide steps to the imposing front door.
Chapter Five
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