Page 33 of A Rogue to Resist
“Yes, sorry. You were saying about the oak beams?”
“They’ll need to be ordered specially. The standard size won’t do for those main supports.”
Drake nodded. “Order whatever is necessary. I want this cottage restored properly, not just patched together.”
“Very good, my lord.” Wilkins hesitated, then added, “If I might say, it’s good to see you and Lady Katherine working together on these matters. The tenants have always held her in high regard.”
“So I’ve gathered,” Drake replied, his tone neutral despite his curiosity. “She seems quite involved in their welfare.”
Wilkins nodded enthusiastically. “Always has been, my lord. Even when the late earl...”
He trailed off, apparently thinking better of criticizing Edmund to his successor.
“Even when the late earl was less attentive to such matters,” Drake finished for him. “You needn’t dance around the truth, Wilkins. I’m well aware of my predecessor’s shortcomings in estate management.”
The carpenter looked relieved. “Then you know Lady Katherine often worked against considerable... resistance. What she managed to accomplish for the tenants during those years was remarkable, given the circumstances.”
Drake found himself increasingly intrigued by these glimpses into Katherine’s past role at Greythorne. The picture emerging was of a woman who had carved out what influence she could within a highly restricted sphere, using that limited authority to improve conditions for those dependent on the estate.
It was hardly the behaviour of the grasping, self-interested widow he had initially imagined her to be.
Inside the cottage, Katherine had finished packing the trunk and was now carefully wrapping what appeared to be bundles of dried herbs in clean cloths.
“Her medicines,” explained a soft voice beside him.
Drake turned to find a younger woman—perhaps thirty—watching the scene with affection tinged with worry.
“Mrs. Parsons’ daughter?” he guessed.
She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Yes, my lord. Susan Miller. Mother will be staying with us until her cottage is repaired.”
“I understand you live nearby?”
“Just down the lane, my lord. My husband tends the forge.”
Drake nodded. “The blacksmith. I met him briefly last week during the mill assessments. A capable man.”
Susan Miller beamed with pride. “He is indeed, my lord. And grateful for the work the estate provides.”
“There will be plenty more in the coming months,” Drake assured her. “We have a great deal of repair work planned throughout Greythorne.”
“So Lady Katherine mentioned when she visited last week,” Mrs. Miller replied. “It’s a comfort to know both you and her ladyship are taking such an interest. The estate has been... neglected for some time.”
Before Drake could respond, Katherine emerged from the cottage with Mrs. Parsons on her arm, the elderly woman leaning heavily on her as they navigated the uneven threshold.
“Susan,” Katherine greeted the younger woman warmly. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Your mother has packed her essentials, but there’s a trunk inside that will need to be transported.”
“I’ll have my husband bring the cart,” Susan assured her, moving to take her mother’s arm from Katherine.
As the two women slowly made their way down the lane, Katherine turned back to the cottage with a determined expression.
“We should salvage what we can before the labourers begin clearing the debris,” she said to Drake. “There are items of sentimental value that might be overlooked by workmen.”
Drake raised an eyebrow. “Surely that’s not necessary. We can instruct them to set aside anything that appears personal.”
“And how would they know what matters to a woman who has lived eight decades?” Katherine countered. “That chipped teapot might seem worthless to a labourer, but it could be a wedding gift from her late husband.”
Without waiting for his response, she ducked back into the cottage, her practical half-boots navigating the rubble-strewn floor with surprising agility.
