Page 18 of Taming of the Rake
That led him down his present course, in which he tried to push his reservations aside to give Mrs. Hurst what she wanted. While taking tea with his sisters, he had casually dropped her name, hoping not to arouse their suspicions.
“Mrs. Hurst,” Petra said again, drawing out the name as if tasting it. “Can’t say I’ve heard of her.”
“Yes you have,” Constantia chimed in. “Her estate is just down the road, you know.”
“Herestate?”
“Oh, yes. Remember? She’s the one whose husband died and left her everything, just a few weeks ago. Apparently, her husband called his solicitor to the deathbed in the eleventh hour. It is thought that he made the change to his will to bequeath everything to his wife … even though he has a male cousin who everyone assumed would take it all. Minus a dower’s portion for the widow, of course.”
Petra snorted. “Oh, yes … I remember the rumors if not the lady herself. Never laid eyes on her.”
“Hardly anyone in the county has. She is reclusive and prickly, and never attends dinner parties or soirées. Of course, now she is in mourning she cannot socialize.”
The twins sighed in unison, casting mournful looks at one another. They wore matching gowns, their hair concealed by coordinating lace caps. Since no new clothing could be afforded, his mother and sisters had resorted to dying everything black, using lace and other trimmings to cover worn patches and holes.
“How boring Christmas will be this year,” Constantia murmured while absently stirring her tea. “No parties …”
“Or parlor games,” Petra filled in with a childish pout.
“No visiting or merriment at all. Whydoyou ask about Mrs. Hurst, David?”
He shook his head, taken aback by his sister’s abrupt change of subject. “Erm … I met her by chance during my morning ride yesterday and am simply curious. Like you, I knew nothing about her.”
“What does she look like?” Petra asked, eyes bright at the idea of being privy to anything happening outside their house. The twins were used to spending their days calling on neighbors and indulging in the lateston dits. While he knew they missed Father sorely and that they grieved him, David also realized how difficult the mourning period would be. Virtually cut off from the world, they would miss out on the festivities of the holiday season. Then there were their dwindling chances at snaring appropriate husbands.
Next year, David promised them silently.You’ll have new wardrobes and dowries, and you may have your pick of any man you please.
“Mrs. Hurst is … lovely,” he mumbled, holding his cup out to Constantia to be refilled. “Red hair. Fair skin. Very petite.”
He took care to keep his tone light and even, though something in him reacted to the memory of those doll-like features and the contrast of vibrant hair against skin like Devonshire cream. Regina Hurst was beyond lovely, even if she was a bit haughty.
“Red hair,” Petra said with narrowed eyes. “How unfashionable.”
“What of her husband?” David pressed.
Constantia wrinkled her nose. “Never heard a favorable word about the man. One of those with a high opinion of himself that is most decidedly unearned. You know the type.”
“Mama encountered him on occasion, I believe,” Petra chimed in. “I do not think she liked him very much.”
“Mama is the best judge of character. If she disliked him, we would have also.”
“Indeed.”
David glanced up just as Caruthers entered the drawing room, his mouth twisted in a worried frown. Coming to his feet proved a great chore, as David had been walking about all day feeling as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Whatever the butler needed to tell him was sure to compound the burden.
“I will see you at dinner,” he said to the twins before following Caruthers from the room. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a Mr. Stone here to see you, sir.”
David frowned. “I don’t know a Mr. Stone.”
“He’s a tenant. He and his sons work as farmhands. Before Mr. Graham’s passing, Mr. Stone became rather vocal about the state of the tenants’ cottages. Several requests had been put to Wren, but …”
“The blighter put them off with claims that the repairs couldn’t be afforded.”
“So it seems, sir. I informed Mr. Stone that you couldn’t possibly see him so soon after you’d gone into mourning and urged him to return at a later date, but he was most insistent. In fact, he has stated his intention to await your convenience. I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I did try.”
He patted the butler’s shoulder. Caruthers really had gotten too old to go on working, but would hear nothing of retiring. His loyalty to the Grahams was absolute, and he refused to leave them until he was certain all had been set right. Yet another matter for David to consider; one more thing his father and the damned Mr. Wren had left on his overflowing plate.
