Page 34 of A Rogue to Resist
Drake sighed and followed her inside.
“You are the most stubbornly hands-on aristocrat I’ve ever encountered,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.
Katherine glanced over her shoulder, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Lord Greythorne.”
“Drake,” he corrected automatically. “If we’re going to pick through an old woman’s possessions together, we might as well use our given names.”
“Very well, Drake.” She pronounced his name with a precise crispness that somehow emphasized their continued professional distance, despite the informality. “You can start by carefully removing those shelves on the far wall. There’s a collection of painted figures her grandchildren made her.”
For the next hour, they worked side by side in the cramped cottage, salvaging items large and small from the debris. Katherine moved with purpose and efficiency, seeming to know exactly which objects would hold significance for the elderly tenant. Drake found himself following her lead, surprised by her practical knowledge of how to safely remove fragile items from precarious positions.
When she climbed onto a rickety chair to reach a shelf high on the wall, Drake moved instinctively to steady her.
“Careful,” he cautioned, his hands hovering near her waist should she lose her balance. “That chair looks about as stable as the roof.”
“I’ve managed worse,” she replied, stretching to retrieve a small wooden box tucked in a corner. “Mrs. Parsons keeps her husband’s letters here. Fifty years of correspondence she wouldn’t part with for all the gold in England.”
As she reached further, the chair wobbled dangerously. Drake’s hands instinctively gripped her waist to stabilize her, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through him. Katherine froze momentarily, then carefully handed down the box before allowing him to help her descend.
“Thank you,” she said, a slight flush colouring her cheeks as she smoothed her skirts. “That would have been an undignified fall.”
Drake stepped back, suddenly aware of how close they had been standing. “You’re welcome. Though perhaps next time, ask for assistance before climbing on furniture that’s older than both of us combined?”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Where would be the adventure in that?”
The teasing response caught him off guard. This lighter side of Katherine was one he’d glimpsed only rarely, usually in her interactions with the tenants. It was appealing.
The realization disturbed him more than he cared to admit.
“I believe we’ve salvaged the most important items,” he said, deliberately returning to the task at hand. “The labourers can clear the remaining debris.”
Katherine nodded, her own manner becoming business-like once more. “I agree. And we should check on the Bennetts’cottage as well, since we’re in the village. Their roof was also identified as at risk.”
“Always another project,” Drake observed, not unkindly.
“The work of an estate never ends,” she replied simply. “Particularly one that has seen such prolonged neglect. I often wonder if the fourth earl did anything either.”
They emerged from the cottage to find Wilkins directing his men as they assessed the damage more thoroughly. The village green beyond was busy with daily life—women hanging laundry, children playing, men returning from the fields for their midday meal. Several villagers paused in their activities to watch the proceedings at Mrs. Parsons’ cottage with undisguised interest.
Katherine greeted each person by name as they made their way toward the Bennetts’ dwelling. Drake noted the genuine warmth with which she was received—these were not the formal, deferential exchanges between tenants and their social superior, but the friendly interactions of people with established relationships.
“Lady Katherine!” A small boy of perhaps five years came running across the green, a wooden toy clutched in his hand. “Look what Grandpa made me!”
Katherine knelt to admire the roughly carved horse the child proudly displayed. “It’s magnificent, Thomas. The finest steed in all of Greythorne, I’m certain.”
The boy beamed, then cast a curious glance at Drake.
“Are you the new lord?” he asked with a child’s directness.
“I am,” Drake confirmed, crouching down to the boy’s level. “And who might you be, sir?”
Thomas giggled at being addressed as “sir.” “I’m Thomas Bennett. My papa helps with the sheep.”
“Ah, so you’re the Bennetts’ youngest,” Drake said, making the connection. “We’re just on our way to see your house.”
“Because of the leaks?” Thomas asked. “Mama puts buckets everywhere when it rains.”
“Well, we’ll have to see if we can fix those leaks, won’t we?” Drake replied. “No one should need buckets inside their house.”
