“And already talk is raging—I’m a pirate, and worse, a pirate from Scotland. I’m surprised the villagers haven’t made for the hills. What else are they saying?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
He could tell from her expression that there was more. He guessed that his unmarried state at the grand old age of thirty-two left him open to accusations of chasing the lassies. Especially when coupled with the ludicrous pirate rumors.
“Now I suppose you want me to fill the house with servants,” he said in a long-suffering tone. Of course he intended to staff the Abbey—even someone who’d spent his life aboard ship understood enough about great houses to understand that they needed a crew. But there was something pleasurable in having a pretty girl look to his welfare.
“You certainly need help.”
“I like the simple life.”
She didn’t grace that with a reply. “What happened to all the furniture? The great hall used to contain more than just two uncomfortable chairs.”
“It discourages visitors.”
“Not all of them.”
“No.” If he’d known the woman at the other end of those admonishing letters was so breathtaking, he’d have requested a meeting straightaway. “According to the lawyers, my brother had the place cleared while he was in Italy with the idea of renting it, then nothing came of the plan. There’
s piles of furniture scattered between the attics and the barns.”
“I don’t remember the house being this gloomy either. When I was a girl, his lordship often had parties. A highlight was Christmas dinner for the villagers, then a ball that night.”
When he’d learned about his unexpected inheritance, Rory had just docked in Portsmouth after a stormy voyage from New South Wales. He hadn’t welcomed the change in his circumstances. He’d spent the last month struggling to accept jettisoning a career he loved in favor of landlocked life in an England less familiar than any ocean.
Now he felt a pang that his parents’ difficult marriage had turned his brother into a stranger. The late earl had featured largely in recent discussions with lawyers and men of business. But for the first time, listening to Miss Farrar, he gained a sense of George as a man and not just a predecessor. “My brother died at an age when he was capable of siring an heir. In fact, I always assumed he’d married and had children. I never expected to inherit.”
“In that case, you should appreciate my advice,” she said, humor making her blue eyes sparkle.
He had a sudden, extremely cunning thought, worthy of the pirate king she accused him of being. “You’re clearly a resource, Miss Farrar, and one I’d be a fool to ignore.”
“Oh?”
The suspicious syllable made him want to laugh. She was quick, this miracle of a lassie. His abrupt change of attitude would strike her as unlikely. “I’ll put you in charge of preparing the house for Christmas.”
She straightened and regarded him warily. “Surely a permanent housekeeper is a better solution.”
“Is the task too much for you?” he said in a pitying voice intended to lift her hackles. “After all, it’s so much easier to give orders from afar than get your hands dirty addressing the problem.”
“I’m busy with the play.”
“And here you are, telling me Penton Wyck is suffering because I don’t employ enough people. I’m guessing with my brother’s absence, life has indeed been tough these last few years. That’s too bad of you, Miss Farrar. You’re either deceiving me about local hardship, or putting your own selfish wishes ahead of your neighbors’ needs. What would that reverend gentleman, your father, say? Especially at this time of goodwill to all men.” He clicked his tongue and settled a benevolent and innocent expression on his face.
He caught a swiftly hidden flash of guilt. “My father would say that it was inappropriate for an unmarried lady who is no relation to play mistress of a bachelor household.”
Ah, mistress was such a bonnie word. Although if he wanted Miss Farrar in his bed, he already knew he’d have to persuade her to marry him.
Rory wondered why the prospect didn’t make him yelp with horror. He’d always avoided entanglements carrying any whiff of forever. Half an hour of Miss Farrar’s company and he was itching to call the banns.
Until today he’d been sailing rudderless all his life. Now he had accurate charts and the wind behind him.
Did she share this powerful affinity? Their conversation ranged beyond the usual polite nothings one exchanged with an acquaintance, and a respectable lady at that. But he’d learned from her letters that she wasn’t the most conventional of creatures, for all her harping on duty and obligation.
“Come, Miss Farrar,” he said in a chiding tone. “It’s clear that you and my brother worked together for the common good. Won’t you extend me the same courtesy?”
“You’re not like your brother.”
“Surely your reputation will be safe if you’re surrounded with a crowd of helpers.”