family, and that puts the business of reconciliations squarely on your handsome shoulders. If this is the invitation you get, then this is the invitation you accept.”
Surely only a friend would address him with that blend of amusement and admonition?
“Worth was always prone to dramatics, and that’s what got us into this situation in the first place.”
Not quite true. A young woman’s duplicity had done more than a little to stir the pot of familial estrangement.
“You could have gone after him,” Lady Evers said, pulling on her gloves. “He wasn’t even quite an adult all those years ago.”
Hessian came around the desk to scoot her chair back, now that he’d endured tea, scones, and the beginnings of a scold.
“Papa decided against retrieving him—a younger son must be allowed his pride, according to the earl—though I think it broke his lordship’s heart, and then I was too busy marrying to go haring south on a goose chase.”
“Your only brother and heir is not a goose.”
“He acted like a goose.” So, apparently, had Hessian.
Her ladyship tactfully pretended to peruse a portrait of Hess’s mother hanging over the fireplace, one she’d seen dozens of times. The two bore a resemblance, something Hess noticed only now.
“Were you the soul of probity at age seventeen, Grampion?”
Yes, he had been, more fool him. He slipped her arm through his, because the time had come to gently herd her toward the door.
“I was seventeen, and that’s as much as I’ll admit. If I’m to heed Worth’s summons, a journey of two hundred miles will take some preparation. What have you heard from Lucas?”
She prattled on about her oldest son, spending a summer in the south between public school terms, and in her voice Hess heard pride, longing, and love. Not for the first time, Hess regretted the lack of children in his own household. Grampion was beautiful, the land graciously generous, the views spectacular.
But lonely. His only consolation was that Worth had no children either, no wife, no family about except a little niece who likely understood only French, and now Yolanda, a near adult and about as sunny-natured as a hurricane.
Still, Hess wouldn’t remain in the north, without niece or sister, while Worth had both, though neither would Hess go galloping south and solve all the family’s problems himself—again.
* * *
“Tell me about these Damuses,” Worth said as he settled onto the seat of the dog cart beside Mrs. Wyeth. Goliath—trained to drive as well as ride, like any proper mount of his breeding and dimensions—was in the traces, which had required loosening the harness by a few holes in all directions.
“The Damuses are not an old local family,” Mrs. Wyeth said as they clattered out of the coach yard. “She was a Dacey, and he’s the second son of a baronet in Dorset. Their holding was willed to him by a grandmother, and she brought a good settlement to the union, so they prosper.”
“With twelve children, that’s not all they do. How about the Hendersons? Have they leporine inclinations?”
“Leporine?”
“In the nature of a hare, similar to caprine, or vulpine, in the nature of a goat, or a fox, you know?”
“My Latin is rusty. The Hendersons are a young couple who moved here from Dorset when his cousin left the property for London. They’ve three boys yet, now that Linda has passed on. The land is good, but they haven’t been farming it for long, and it takes time to learn the way of a piece of ground.”
What manner of housekeeper was brought up on Latin?
Worth turned Goliath onto the lane. “Ground is just there . What do you mean, learn the way of it?”
“This field tends to get boggy in spring, but mostly in the one corner, so you might plant that corner later. That field is perfect for oats, but doesn’t do quite such a good job with barley. A particular irrigation ditch is always the first to back up when the leaves come off in the fall.
Surely only a friend would address him with that blend of amusement and admonition?
“Worth was always prone to dramatics, and that’s what got us into this situation in the first place.”
Not quite true. A young woman’s duplicity had done more than a little to stir the pot of familial estrangement.
“You could have gone after him,” Lady Evers said, pulling on her gloves. “He wasn’t even quite an adult all those years ago.”
Hessian came around the desk to scoot her chair back, now that he’d endured tea, scones, and the beginnings of a scold.
“Papa decided against retrieving him—a younger son must be allowed his pride, according to the earl—though I think it broke his lordship’s heart, and then I was too busy marrying to go haring south on a goose chase.”
“Your only brother and heir is not a goose.”
“He acted like a goose.” So, apparently, had Hessian.
Her ladyship tactfully pretended to peruse a portrait of Hess’s mother hanging over the fireplace, one she’d seen dozens of times. The two bore a resemblance, something Hess noticed only now.
“Were you the soul of probity at age seventeen, Grampion?”
Yes, he had been, more fool him. He slipped her arm through his, because the time had come to gently herd her toward the door.
“I was seventeen, and that’s as much as I’ll admit. If I’m to heed Worth’s summons, a journey of two hundred miles will take some preparation. What have you heard from Lucas?”
She prattled on about her oldest son, spending a summer in the south between public school terms, and in her voice Hess heard pride, longing, and love. Not for the first time, Hess regretted the lack of children in his own household. Grampion was beautiful, the land graciously generous, the views spectacular.
But lonely. His only consolation was that Worth had no children either, no wife, no family about except a little niece who likely understood only French, and now Yolanda, a near adult and about as sunny-natured as a hurricane.
Still, Hess wouldn’t remain in the north, without niece or sister, while Worth had both, though neither would Hess go galloping south and solve all the family’s problems himself—again.
* * *
“Tell me about these Damuses,” Worth said as he settled onto the seat of the dog cart beside Mrs. Wyeth. Goliath—trained to drive as well as ride, like any proper mount of his breeding and dimensions—was in the traces, which had required loosening the harness by a few holes in all directions.
“The Damuses are not an old local family,” Mrs. Wyeth said as they clattered out of the coach yard. “She was a Dacey, and he’s the second son of a baronet in Dorset. Their holding was willed to him by a grandmother, and she brought a good settlement to the union, so they prosper.”
“With twelve children, that’s not all they do. How about the Hendersons? Have they leporine inclinations?”
“Leporine?”
“In the nature of a hare, similar to caprine, or vulpine, in the nature of a goat, or a fox, you know?”
“My Latin is rusty. The Hendersons are a young couple who moved here from Dorset when his cousin left the property for London. They’ve three boys yet, now that Linda has passed on. The land is good, but they haven’t been farming it for long, and it takes time to learn the way of a piece of ground.”
What manner of housekeeper was brought up on Latin?
Worth turned Goliath onto the lane. “Ground is just there . What do you mean, learn the way of it?”
“This field tends to get boggy in spring, but mostly in the one corner, so you might plant that corner later. That field is perfect for oats, but doesn’t do quite such a good job with barley. A particular irrigation ditch is always the first to back up when the leaves come off in the fall.
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