Page 80 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
He was talking with Emilia about it when the first visitors came. “It likely needs to be re-leaded, too—who the devil is that?” Nick frowned at the slim young man hovering, cap in hand, just outside the front door.
“Oh, my.” Emilia pressed his hand. “Of course.” Without another word she went out and spoke to the fellow, who bowed and spoke earnestly for a few minutes. Emilia listened, nodding, and then spoke to him until a wide smile lit the man’s face.
Nick strolled closer to the doorway, watching but keeping his distance. There were actually three men and a young woman, who all looked nervous at the beginning but who were beaming when they finally turned and walked back down the drive.
Emilia came back inside. “They hope you’ll be taking up residence, and wanted to know about positions.”
Nick’s brows went up. “So soon?”
“A great house like this is vital to the whole area,” she replied. “Not only in what it produces, but the employment it offers and the things it buys. If you wish to restart the brewery, for instance, you’ll need men who know how a brewery should be built, what equipment it should have, and how it should be run.”
Nick grinned. He’d been surprised—and pleased—to learn there was an old brewery on the estate. But he grasped her larger point, that he had no idea how a country house ran. Heloise had had a fine house, but in the center of Birmingham. He’d never lived on a country estate, nor even had friends who invited him to stay at one. He’d imagined these big estates simply brought everything in from London or the nearest market town. “Fancy that. What would I do without you to inform me of these things?”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m only repeating what I learned from my grandpapa! Any estate manager will be able to tell you far more, in great detail.”
But not so beautifully, thought Nick. Every day it hit him harder that he would be lost without her, for reasons small and large, some silly and some vitally important. No one had ever left him, smiling the way those villagers had done, after talking to him. Of course he could hire a man to explain to him how to run an estate; he trusted Emilia to tell him how itoughtto be run, with respect for the people who lived there now and responsibility for the future.
And even, perhaps, how he ought to approachhisfuture.
He had been away from the Vega Club for over a week now, and discovered to his surprise that he wasn’t frantic to be back. He thought about his club frequently, but he’d left it in the capable hands of Forbes, who had been with him for years. If there were a problem, Forbes would handle it or send word to him. No word meant no problems.
Partly, Nick knew, he didn’t miss Vega’s because he was occupied with Charlotte and the house during the day and entranced by Emilia at night. Every evening after the girls went to bed, he and Emilia slipped off alone, with a blanket and perhaps a bottle of wine, and lay under the stars. The night it rained, they swept vines out of the loggia and huddled in there, keeping each other warm and making each other laugh. Nick told her about his patrons and the outrageous things they did and said. She responded with tales of the children she’d worked with, andbon motsfrom the elderly countess who had been her first employer. And when they heard shrieks from the drawing room that was their communal living quarters, Nick ran even faster than she did.
Lucy was sitting on her bed, blankets clutched to her chin, eyes wide. Charlotte was standing on a chair, holding the lamp with one hand and clutching her nightdress around her knees with the other. James stood by the fireplace, a club in his hand.
“I saw a rat,” said Lucy in a tiny voice.
“I saw it, too!” cried Charlotte.
“It’s gone now, Mr. Dashwood,” said James quickly. He poked his club into the recess of the fireplace, and there was a scraping noise. “There’s a hole here, some mortar will mend it.”
Hand clapped to her heart, Emilia looked to Nick. “Why was there a rat in here? We cleaned this room thoroughly and removed anything that would attract them.”
Lucy shrank into her blankets until only her eyes and forehead were visible. “I brought in some honey cakes,” she whispered. It had turned out Mrs. Stone also knew the recipe, and she’d baked some as soon as the first load of supplies was delivered.
Emilia stared at her, then gave a gasp of laughter. Charlotte broke into giggles, and then Lucy did, and even James grinned sheepishly.
Nick folded his arms. “Are we taking such fine care of Beaufort Hall now that we feed our rats honey cakes?”
“No!” cried Lucy. “Not honey cakes!”
“Chester will expect roast beef and salmon patties,” gasped Emilia, swiping at her eyes as she laughed.
“Eww!” Charlotte stepped down from the chair. “Better to stop up the holes in the walls instead.”
Nick pointed at her. “Precisely. An excellent thought, though one that will be more difficult if that rat is off telling all his mates that there are honey cakes to be had in this room, right now.”
Charlotte froze. Lucy stopped smiling.
“Goodness,” said Emilia gravely. “We mustn’t allow that. We must... we must eat all the honey cakes at once, obviously.”
Nick exaggerated his surprise as both girls goggled at them. “Eat the cakes! All of them! Right now!Mustwe, Miss Greene?”
She nodded, eyes twinkling. “Indeed, I see no other option, Mr. Dashwood. If we do not eat them, the rats will.”
“Well, then.” Nick turned toward the two open-mouthed girls. “Miss Greene says so, and Miss Greene is nearly always correct. Where are the honey cakes, Lucinda?”
Lucy looked at Charlotte in amazement, then drew a small plate with two squashed cakes from under her bed.
