Free Lord Satan by Judith Laik Page B

offense. “I’m not speaking
of repairs to The Castle, sir. Although I think it a pity to let a place of
historical interest to go to pieces, it cannot compare with your tenants’
hardships when their roofs leak or their barns fall down. With such treatment
your best farmers may leave, and the lands will go to wrack and ruin. When
your rents fall off as a result of that, you cannot help but notice.”
    He stared at her. “What an odd subject for a pretty young
lady to interest herself in.”
    She blushed, knowing she had overstepped herself.
    “I’ll tell Uncle Neil about it. Naturally, if Reynolds has
neglected his duties, he will be replaced.”
    “Oh no, sir. You must not think Mr. Reynolds is not
conscientious about his duties. If anything, too much so, but he needs more
supervision.”
    “That’s precisely what I mean. What good is a steward one
must oversee all the time? Might as well stay home and do the job yourself.
Uncle Neil is too busy to keep running down here, and I will be rejoining my regiment
shortly.”
    “Why is your uncle too busy to come here?” Libbetty asked.
    The young man paled and he shifted his gaze aside. She had
blundered into delicate matters. Her determination to investigate Lord Neil,
and the friendly feelings she had acquired toward the invalid, had led her into
a rude inquisitiveness.
    “He is very active in the government,” Cauldreigh finally
said.
    Feeling heat rush to her face, she replied lamely, “Oh, I
didn’t know.” Conversation languished again. A maid entering with a tea tray
provided a desperately sought distraction.
    Lord Cauldreigh seemed to notice that Edwina had yet to
contribute. He asked, “Miss Hogwood, would you please pour?”
    Edwina had been well schooled in the rituals of tea, and she
prettily did the honors.
    While she poured, the marquess spoke to Edwina. “I look
forward to taking part in the social life around here once I am recovered. Are
there any assemblies or concerts I might attend?”
    “No.” Edwina’s hand shook a little as she handed him the
tea, making the cup and saucer rattle.
    Libbetty concluded that Edwina’s nerves at meeting the
marquess had robbed her of the power to think, for Crossfield, only a few miles
away, offered assemblies, and she knew Edwina had attended two last autumn.
    In addition, Peasebotham’s musical society met on alternate
Tuesday evenings, in the rooms above the village offices. The society was made
up of amateurs, but contained some fine musicians, including Libbetty’s
youngest sister, eleven-year-old Isobel. The society had invited her to
perform some three times, despite her youth. Mr. Bishop had reluctantly
permitted this.
    Since her runaway tongue had already disgraced her, however,
Libbetty would not embarrass Edwina by correcting her. She kept a resolute
silence, sipping her tea and eating a cream cake.
    The marquess appeared to have difficulty managing his saucer
of tea in his half-reclining position and soon gave up. Their brief
acquaintanceship did not permit Libbetty to offer any help. Anyway, his
expression of distaste when he sipped the tea gave her the impression he would
have preferred some stronger drink. He ate three or four of the cakes. Edwina
touched neither her tea nor any of the other refreshments.
    After several further conversational gambits by the marquess
resulted in monosyllabic responses from Edwina, he turned in resignation to
Libbetty and said, “You seem to know quite a bit about the district, Miss
Bishop. Are you acquainted with the families on my farms?”
    *
    Neil sat in his study, his attention divided between his
correspondence and regrets for leaving the younger people alone. He should
have commandeered Miss Bishop and left Miss Hogwood to Trevor—no, he should not
have, despite the challenge in the wide blue eyes of the vicar’s daughter.
    So why he should find himself at the door to Trevor’s room,
he did not know. “Oh, good, you are having tea.” He strolled