Page 12

“Oh, Cassie,” Honoria said at last. “Have you been standing there an age?”

“Only a minute. Can we talk?”

“Of course, dear.” Honoria put down her pen, covered her writing with a cloth, and turned her chair to face Cassie.

“He’s coming for tea.” Cassie moved about the room, picking her way among stacks of books on the floor, pages of The Times, and a basket of rolled-up maps. There was, as usual, no place to sit, a sign that her aunt was deep in a story. Cassie had left her boots with William and wore a pair of light slippers. Her foot ached. She had not taken Sir Adrian’s arm, but of course, he had noticed her lurching gait. To his credit he was not so tactless as to ask her about it. Her limp was such a familiar part of the way she moved about at home and in the village that she had forgotten the curiosity it could arouse in a stranger.

“Who is coming to tea?”

“Sir Adrian, and we have to convince Grandmama that he is a worthy tenant.”

Honoria twisted the ends of her shawl. “This is my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t mentioned his desire to buy Verwood, Lottie would not have taken offense.”

“Please don’t blame yourself, Aunt. He still wishes to lease Verwood, but we have to convince Grandmama to accept him as a tenant.”

“Is he really our last hope?”

“He is the only one who’s shown an interest in the property.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it? How do you account for his interest in Verwood? He doesn’t seem the sort to bury himself in the country. Didn’t you tell Lottie that our tenant would be a quiet, older gentleman?”

That had been Cassie’s mistake. She had assumed any man with a sir before his name must be old. Like Honoria, she couldn’t account for his interest in the hall. “I think we have to take advantage of that interest whatever the motive behind it. I agreed to support his bid for Verwood.”

“Is that wise? Lottie thinks he’s presumptuous.”

“He is rich and willing to make the dower house livable for us, and he’s ready to act now.” Once they were relocated, Cassie told herself, they would hardly see him.

“But what will you tell Lottie?”

“I’m working on that. He’s done two things that might change her mind about him.”

Honoria straightened in her chair. “Tell me.”

“At the Crown yesterday…”

Honoria looked confused.

“When I stopped to get a ride home, Hugh was in the yard, berating Dick Crockett for an accident, which was most likely Hugh’s fault as you know how recklessly Hugh drives. I couldn’t let Hugh bully Dick, but then Sir Adrian, though I didn’t know it was he, intervened and sent Hugh on his way.”

“Intervened how?” Honoria asked.

“He offered Hugh sixty guineas for the damage to his curricle.”

“Sixty guineas! Oh my! And Horrible Hugh took the money and left.”

“More or less.”

Honoria righted her tilting cap. “My dear, what are you not telling me?”

“It was the way that Sir Adrian handled Hugh with such assurance.” Cassie was understating the scene. Sir Adrian had simply dominated everyone’s attention, including hers. To have a man like that living at Verwood would change everything.

Honoria nodded. “He sounds like Lofty Lottie.”

Cassie stopped her wandering. Honoria was right. Sir Adrian had that force of character that marked her grandmother, and the same singlemindedness. It puzzled her that he was directing all that energy and purpose toward Verwood.

“And the second thing, dear?”

“He makes fire engines.”