Page 72 of Sleepless in Saunton
But, to his unapologetic satisfaction, Barclay was the first to hear any new poetry she composed. She was, after all,hisbride.
Tatiana raised her head from the book she was buried in, noting that they were arriving at their destination. His daughter was learning some basic Russian along with Jane in preparation for a trip they planned the following year to St. Petersburg. It was high time Tatiana was reacquainted with her Russian relations whom they had not visited since she was a babe.
The three of them conversed in Russian each evening over their supper, and he was pleased with her progress. Tatiana had an excellent ear for the pronunciation, and her maternal grandfather would be pleased because he spoke only a smattering of broken English.
Now that Barclay’s daughter had rejoined him on his journeys around England, he schooled her once more. Jane gave her lessons in the mornings, but he was able to frequently take Tatiana to his building sites to educate her on architecture and art.
Jane closed her notebook. “Remind me where we are?”
“Chatternwell in Wiltshire. We are quite close to the town of Bath, which is northwest of here.”
“How exciting! I have passed through Wiltshire, but never visited.”
Barclay smiled. He was pleased with how much Jane and Tatiana loved to travel with him to see new places and meet new people. It was far more pleasurable to travel with his family than the solitary existence he had lived after Natalya had departed. He had commissioned a second carriage for when their family grew, and Tsar was in discussion with John Soane to hire gifted new architects from the Royal Academy to reduce Barclay’s travel in future periods when Jane could not travel.
“I suspect Richard has a hidden agenda for this visit. However, the building commission itself is genuine.”
Jane peered out the carriage window at the passing trees. “I wonder if it has something to do with his quest to make amends.”
Barclay frowned. He had forgotten all about the strange conversation in the billiard room months earlier when Lord Trafford had mentioned something to that effect. There had been so much occurring at the time, it had slipped his mind to question his brother about the oblique comment.
“Amends?”
The carriage drew to a halt in front of a small Tudor manor, and once again the subject was forgotten when the footman came to the door to lower the steps. As they descended, Barclay’s new clerk of work joined them.
Marcus was an erudite young man who had a tendency to become queasy in carriages, so he preferred to ride with the coachman. This suited Barclay fine, because he could spend the time alone with his family.
The front doors opened, and Richard came bounding out to join them. “Barclay, Jane! And little Tatiana! Welcome to Chatternwell House.” The earl swung his arms out to gesture at the building behind him.
Barclay looked up at the facade, assessing the age and condition before heading over to the front doors to crane his head back and forth to assess the condition of the walls, examining them with his hands. Marcus joined him, a flaxen curl falling into his eyes, which he flicked back with a slender hand. They debated what they thought while Richard conversed with Jane and Tatiana, lifting the little girl off her feet in an effusive embrace.
Barclay and Marcus entered the manor without invitation to inspect the building and foundations, all else forgotten as they explored while Marcus took notes.
A couple of hours later, Barclay found Richard drinking tea with Jane in a clean but worn drawing room. The room was drab, with old furnishings and faded drapes. Barclay imagined what it would look like with a lighter color palate and rich fabrics hanging in the windows, his professional eye engaged.
Jane smiled at his arrival. “Barclay, there you are. Tatiana went to take a nap after we arrived, so she is in her room upstairs. Have you had a chance to freshen up?”
He shook his head. Walking over, he lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I wanted to find you first. I ran off so abruptly.”
She laughed, looking beautiful in the afternoon light bathing the room. “I am not offended. Richard was telling me about a local modiste who is holding an event tomorrow to celebrate the opening of her new shop.”
Barclay took a seat, noticing that the earl was tugging at his cravat. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had long since noted that Richard fiddled with his knot when he was nervous. There was more to this visit than the condition of Chatternwell House.
An hour later, he cornered Richard in the manor library. “There is more to this visit than you have disclosed.”
Richard’s hand rose to loosen his cravat, confirming Barclay’s accusation. “It is deuced awkward to speak to … you … about this particular matter.”
Barclay cocked his head in question.
“Because of your history. Of what our father did to … your mother.”
Remaining silent, Barclay waited.
“Very well. I used to be a glib arse. A rogue. Earlier this year, I realized the error of my ways. As a result, I sought the women from my past whom I had wronged … the ones I felt I had seduced into doing things beyond their experience. I needed to rectify any damage I may have done. It was how I learned of Ethan. Which led me to search out any brothers or sisters whom our father had abandoned to their fate.”
“I see. I suppose I had an inkling, considering I am aware of Ethan.”
Richard broke eye contact to stare at his boots, his legs stretched out in front of him despite the agitated movement of his hands while he explained. “I have made amends to all the women I felt culpable for. One of the young women has a situation that is more complex, so I am here to fulfill part of my obligations.”
