Page 7 of The Vixen in Red
She shook her head lightly. “Not today, my lord.”
The bookseller came out from a back room. “My apologies,” he began. “It took me longer than I thought it would to locate your aunt’s order.” He handed Lady Charlotte a wrapped package. “Please tell Lady Seraphina that her other books will arrive next week and to let me know if there is anything else she requires.”
“I will,” Lady Charlotte replied. “Thank you.”
With those words, she left the bookshop. Collin stared after her and sighed. He’d blundered, and badly. It might take a lot to make it up to her, but he strove to try. He liked Lady Charlotte. Perhaps more than he should when he had little to offer. His whole world was in shambles, and even if he wanted a wife, he’d make a terrible husband. Perhaps he should instead endeavor to stay far away from the beauty and work on fixing what was wrong in his life.
Chapter 5
Collin stared at the hole in the ceiling. This was perhaps the worst room in the entire house, and he needed it repaired first: the kitchen. If he had any hope of hiring staff for the house, he needed rooms for them to work in. He wanted the kitchen and staff quarters fixed first. Then they could start working on the family rooms. He would be perfectly fine living in the estate manager’s cottage while the work was being completed.
“This is a fine mess, milord,” a man said as he came to stand beside him. “You sure you want to be fixing this?” Mr. Robins was the contractor he’d contacted to hopefully do the repairs on the manor house.
Sometimes, he thought it would be better to have the entire house torn down and rebuilt. The only reason he’d decided against it was because his father would be disappointed in him if he did. He had to respect his heritage, and that meant repairing the damage. “I am certain,” he said dryly. “Do you think you can manage to restore the house?”
The older man scratched his head and stared at the ceiling. It had cracked in several places and the paint had chipped, some of it had fallen to the floor. The walls near the stove had blackened. There must have been a fire there at some point for that damage to be noticeable. The shelves were covered in filth, but they at least showed no actual damage. Collin feared the cost would be exorbitant. “Aye,” the man replied. “But I cannot begin yet, I’ll need at least a sennight.”
Collin cursed under his breath. “I had hoped that you could start sooner.” He would rather have the man begin immediately. “Is there any way you can begin sooner?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Robbins said. “I have other commitments, and I would not be in business long if I stopped honoring them. If you wish me to do these repairs, you’ll have to wait a sennight.”
There was no helping it. Collin let a long, suffering sigh. This was his lot in life, and he had to handle it accordingly. If he hadn’t been so negligent, the house wouldn’t be in a huge disrepair. “Very well,” he told him. “Can you at least make a list of the necessary supplies you will need? I can start having everything gathered and ready for you when you are able to start.”
Mr. Robbins scratched his head and stared at the ceiling again. “I’ll need an hour to go back through the house and make the list.” He shook his head lightly. “It is going to be costly.”
“I expect so,” Collin replied. “It will definitely deplete the funds, but it has to be done.” He held back a sigh. The urge to do so on repeat had been ingrained him since he arrived in Peacehaven. “This house is the center of the Frossly seat. It should be put back to rights.” It never should have become this sad building. “When you’re finished with the list, leave it in the cottage I’m staying in. I need to go for a ride and think.”
“Very well, milord.” The man nodded. “I’ll set it on the table in the foyer. I’ll be in touch when I’m finished with my other project.”
Collin took a deep breath. “Hire as many men as you think you’ll need. I’d like the house completed as soon as possible.”
“It might still take several months,” Mr. Robbins warned. “These things take time if you wish them done correctly.”
“And I do…” Collin tugged at his coat sleeves. It was a nervous tick he developed after his parents’s death. “I would still like you to try to be expedient.”
“Very well, milord,” Mr. Robbins answered.
With that affirmation Collin left the man to his work. He would start sending for supplies on the morrow after he had the list to work with. He might have to wait a sennight for the work to begin in truth, but he didn’t have to wait to do something to help start the repairs. It would make him feel as if he were actually doing something productive.
He went to the small stable, a building that also had no need for restorations. The blasted estate manager had had two priorities, it seemed. His cottage and the stable… Collin would need to hire workers for the entire household once it was repaired. Luckily, he could see to his immediate needs. He saddled his own horse and kept him groomed. He debated whether he should go for a ride as he’d said or opt for a walk. “Do you want some exercise, boy?”
His horse snorted and lifted his head as if to say,“Yes, you imbecile.”
“Very well,” he said and then laughed. It was the first bit of joy he truly felt since he arrived in Peacehaven. Collin went and retrieved the saddle. He took his horse out of the stall and then tied him to the hitching post. Collin retrieved the saddle from where he’d set it and placed it on the horse. It didn’t take him long to prepare the stallion. Once finished, he mounted the horse and then pressed his knee into his side.
He used his horse mostly for riding and had had one of his Uncle Charles’s grooms deliver him after arriving in Peacehaven. He had his matched greys that he used to travel in his curricle. He planned on staying in Peacehaven for some time and wanted to have some comforts while there. He didn’t know if he’d need a carriage, but wanted to be prepared either way.
Collin was lost in thought. He kept the horse at a leisurely walk as he rode the outskirts of his property. Before long, he reached the pond on the back half of his property. Someone must have decided to have a picnic there and they hadn’t noticed his approach. Perhaps he should…investigate.
* * *
Charlotte staredat her notebook and frowned. She had finally managed to get her muse to talk to her, but it was a slow painful process. The words came. She hated them all. None of it seemed worth showing anyone, and she was tempted to tear out the pages and burn them. That seemed a little dramatic though, so she refrained. It was a start, and she’d instead use them as inspiration to do better. Some words written were far better than no words at all.
She’d had the cook pack her a cold picnic to take with her. It had been her plan to spend some time outdoors and write as much as possible. So far, she’d done nothing but nibble on a piece of cheese and stare at the pond. Well, when she wasn’t staring at her notebook in anger at her ineptness. Sometimes she even stopped to curse her mother and father for sending her to this inspiration stealing place. None of it helped.
“Surely it cannot be as bad as all that,” a man said in amusement, effectively bringing her back to reality.
Charlotte lifted her hand and used it as a shade over her eyes as she stared up at him. He was on a fine stallion with a rich mahogany coat and black mane and tail. The gentleman’s golden hair shined brightly in the late April sunlight. It was a warm day for April, but he still wore a waistcoat and jacket. She didn’t blame him. The wind could be biting, especially while riding. “Good afternoon, Lord Frossly,” she greeted him. A twinge of happiness spread through her at the sight of him. He was handsome and she wanted to spend some time with him. She wasn’t certain how to do that in the course of her day. It wasn’t as if she could pay a call on him. He was a bachelor without much of a residence to entertain in. “And I must beg to differ. How would you have any inkling how terrible it is without discerning the truth of it?”
