Page 56 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Jenny, and Johnny, and Mabel—and how the devil she would feed them was anyone’s guess.
Of course, there was the treasure that Jock always spoke of, and maybe it was real if Agruen was after it. Or maybe it wasn’t.
Thomas helped get Moonglow under control, and she looked around at the tangle of trees, shrubs, and weeds.
Little Norwick needed work, but it was real. And it could be hers. All it would take was a wedding.
They caughtup with Lord Hackwell and Mr. Gibson and picked their way over the open field to a small path wide enough to accommodate a cart. At the top of the tree-thickened rise, a roof came into view.
Several roofs—a village of roofs, at different heights and angles, topping walls and wings and wide swathes of diamond-paned windows.
“Cor,”Thomas cried, “It’s bigger than our house, Steven.”
Lord Hackwell turned in his saddle and flashed a grin that took in both her and Mr. Gibson next to her. She felt herself coloring. Mr. Gibson displayed no emotion, making him look…grim.
Her heart plummeted yet one more time this day. Mr. Gibson was feeling pressure, more so than she. For her, this house would be a kind of freedom, at least for a while and with enough money and the three servants she could bring with her.
For him, it would be a large, weighty anchor.
She could not do that to him, could she? He wanted to go to India, which would leave her managing all by herself. None of her servants would know how to take on the full load. Johnny could handle the one horse, Jenny the cleaning of a few rooms, and Mabel could cook, and that was a start. For the rest of it, she could hire a steward.
But supposing…
How did it work, the management of an estate like this? The home farm fields would have to be cleared. For that, workers were needed, and money to pay them.
Mr. Gibson had learned from Lady Hackwell, he said. Perhaps Lady Hackwell could tutor her.
Once her business in London was settled, he could be off to India.
And…perhaps, if what Lady Tepping had said was true, there was a way she could set him all the way free.
They drew closer and she could see gaps in the roof where shingles were missing, windows covered with boards, and paint hanging in strips.
As they passed a fenced kitchen garden, a hare darted out through the gateless entry sending her mount shying and shaking.
In seconds, Mr. Gibson was there, reaching for Moonglow’s bridle.
That same serious mood preoccupied him.
“I’m fine.” Her voice trembled and she cleared her throat. “Though this is the second time in the last quarter hour I’ve almost slipped off. Perhaps Moonglow and I need a rest from each other.”
His lip quirked. “You’ve done well.”
“Yes. Well enough for the first time in a blasted side saddle.” His smile sent her heart dancing. He was truly a kind man, with a good sense of humor.
And a good kisser. They could do more of that before he sailed off for India.
Another flutter went through her, and she shook it off. “This is a great pile, is it not? When do you suppose we will come to the Little Norwick hut?”
His smile widened and he added a chuckle. “From the look of the outside, the floors may have indeed crumbled back to dirt. We shall soon see.”
“We’re going inside?”
“Oh yes. Never does anything halfway, does Steven Lord Hackwell. The caretaker is meeting us.” He glanced her way, concern in his eyes. “Do you not wish to see it?”
Her deep blushtouched a nerve in him. They hadn’t talked about that kiss the night before.
Kiss, nothing. He’d almost ravished her in the corridor, only a glimmer better than that scoundrel Spellen. Except of course, Paulette had not been tied up and she’d been a full participant.
