Page 14 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“Well, dogs do live in London, but you can leave Mickle here. She was part of a litter, born in September at Michaelmas, hence her name. She used to follow Michael about, and I think she’s missing him.”
He looked down at the spaniel and ruffled the silky black ears. Freddy stood next to his mother, looking serious. “You do like Mickle, Uncle Robert?”
“Of course, Freddy. She’s a lovely dog.”
“Shall I take her to the stables, Your Grace?” asked Jackson.
“No, Jackson, Mickle can stay with me.”
“Now, Freddy,” said Elinor, “we must go on our walk, and I need to speak to the Reverend Nathaniel about a schedule for your lessons.”
She bent to stroke Mickle. “I forgot to say that Mother was looking for you. We may have given her the impression that you were at the stables. Come, Freddy,” she called, and they left, leaving him looking down at Mickle's wide, brown eyes, who decided to lie by the fire and wait for the next instruction.
This was so like his kind-hearted, vivacious sister, who spent her life looking for ways to make others happy.
He felt another moment of regret at how he had spoken so harshly to the young woman in the lane.
I don’t even know her name. Yet she had a small child with her, and I reprimanded her for being careless in front of the boy. I shouldn't have ridden off. I could have asked if she needed help getting home.
He saw again those green eyes glinting in the sunlight. He’d hurt her with his words. She’d flinched, almost in pain when he’d told her to be more careful. She must have lived locally. Why would she be on that woodland track if she wasn’t a local resident?
His heart gladdened. He’d assumed he’d never see her again, but logically, she must have lived hereabouts.
Thoughts of jade green eyes and porcelain complexion disappeared with an assertive rap on the door, and before he had time to respond, the door flew open, and there stood his mother.
Mickle stood up and walked over to her and she patted the dog absentmindedly as she entered the room.
“Mama?” Robert greeted her.
“Robert. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” his mother said, admonishing him.
“I’ve been here since early hours, Mama. I wanted to work through all the ledgers. I’ve almost finished,” Robert explained.
“Is everything in order?” his mother enquired.
“Perfect order. We just need to find a new steward to replace Morley.”
“That won’t be easy. We’ve been lucky to have him so many years.”
“Elinor tells me some of the younger staff moved to Horton estate.”
“She’s right. Sir Joseph is a very rich man with a successful shipping company and a sizeable estate further north. He can afford to pay higher wages,” his mother expounded.
“I don’t know if I’ve met him,” admitted Robert.
“Perhaps not. He moved here about two years ago when his uncle died and left him Horton Hall, which brings me nicely to what I wanted to speak to you about. Now you’ve settled in, it's time for you to take up your responsibilities as a host.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, you’ve lost me. What do you mean? I’m here to sort out a new steward, and then I’ll return to London.”
“That’s going to take a few weeks, so you have ample time to be part of local society.”
“But Mother …” Robert started to object.
His mother continued, ignoring his protests, “I’ve arranged a house party. It’s late spring, the days are warmer, and soon, it will be the summer festival in the village. You know I always have a house party at this time of year.
“I’m prepared to live in a house full of strangers and occasionally eat supper with them, but that is as far as it goes. You know I dislike house parties; well, any social event, if I’m honest.”
“Just like your father,” she said in despair. “I don’t know how you’ll ever find a bride.”
