Chapter Two
Leopold Augustus Oliver Ralph Maximilian Claridge, fifth Marquess of Rainton, stared across the imposing width of his mahogany pedestal desk at his steward, Sewell, and wondered if the man was capable of answering a question with any word other than no.
Every single suggestion that Leo had made for the improvement of his estate that morning had been met with the same stark response.
At least on the question of crops, the man’s clenched brows suggested he was at least thinking about it.
That was some progress, although he suspected he already knew what the answer would be.
‘No.’ And there it was… ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, my lord.’
‘Of course it is.’ Leo pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Why exactly?’
‘The estate’s main income has always come from sheep farming.’
‘I’m aware.’ He lowered his hand, fighting the urge to pound his fist against the desk.
‘And as I’ve said before, I’ve no intention of giving up sheep farming completely.
However, the price of wool continues to fall, while the price of grain only goes up.
All I’m suggesting is that we set aside a few fields for wheat and corn.
’ He paused before delivering the final blow. ‘And cattle.’
‘Cattle?’ Sewell reeled backwards as if he’d just proposed a herd of elephants.
‘Yes. Red Devons. That’s not so outlandish, surely? Since we are, in fact, only thirty miles from Devon.’
‘That may be, my lord, but the estate has never—’
‘Sewell,’ Leo interrupted him. ‘Just because the estate has never done something in the past doesn’t necessarily preclude us from doing it now, does it?’
‘No-o, but—’
‘Some might, in fact, call that progress.’
‘Some might.’ Sewell lifted his chin. ‘But it strikes me as reckless.’
Reckless? Leo lifted his eyes skyward. Admittedly, he’d been feeling increasingly that way since his premature return from London, but good grief, it wasn’t as if he was wagering the estate in a game of cards. All they were talking about was a few cows, thirty at most!
‘One herd isn’t likely to bankrupt us.’
‘Perhaps not, but your father’s instructions on the maintenance of the estate were most explicit. If he were here now, he would advise—’
‘That’s enough.’ Leo’s patience snapped. He was well aware what his father would have said on the subject. On every subject, for that matter. The letter lying on his desk was never going to let him forget. The absolute last thing he wanted or needed was another reminder.
‘Forgive me, my lord.’ Sewell bowed his head. ‘I only want to guide you.’
As your father wished me to do… The words seemed to hover unspoken between them, irritating Leo even more.
Spending time with his father’s old steward always made him feel this way, like a ten-year-old boy instead of a man of twenty-four.
The man’s lecturing, intractable attitude was infuriating, especially since he showed no inclination for retirement, but it was also well intended.
Sewell had served his father loyally for almost fifty years.
In half a century together, they’d produced a thriving and prosperous estate.
No doubt he regarded himself as the defender of a great legacy.
And the most annoying part was that he was probably right and Leo ought to heed his advice.
After all, it had only been six months since he’d been summoned home from Cornwall to his father’s deathbed, just in time to see him before the crushing weight of his inheritance had descended onto his shoulders.
It might be prudent not to make too many changes just yet, especially considering how much of a mess he’d made with the very first instruction his father had given him: Select a bride whose fortune will enhance the estate, whose temper will benefit your domestic harmony, and whose bloodline is worthy of our illustrious family…
The new Marchioness of Rainton was definitely not the kind of woman his father had had in mind.
‘Very well.’ Leo heaved a sigh. ‘We’ll leave it for now. However, I want work to begin on the new estate cottages as soon as possible.’ He held a hand up as Sewell opened his mouth, presumably to object. ‘That is non-negotiable.’
‘I still think repairs would be a much cheaper alternative.’
‘Non-negotiable,’ Leo repeated, turning gratefully towards his study door at the sound of a knock. ‘Yes?’
‘Pardon the interruption, my lord.’ Rimmer, his butler, looked almost flustered. ‘But Dr Pritchard wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. Apparently Her Ladyship is awake.’
‘Ah.’ Leo leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to let the news sink in.
He was relieved, of course—as relieved as he’d be for anyone who’d sustained a serious head injury and then lain unconscious for the past three days—only he was also acutely aware of his bad mood plummeting even further.
Because if his wife was awake, he supposed that now he’d have to go and talk to her, to make sure she was all right and then find out why the bloody hell she’d been riding in a storm by herself in the first place.
And he’d rather keep banging his head against a brick wall with Sewell than do that.
‘Thank you, Rimmer. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.’ He nodded to the butler before turning back to his steward. ‘Make the cottages your priority. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘Very well, my lord.’ Sewell’s expression was pained. ‘If you really think it’s for the best?’
‘I do.’
He waited, drumming his fingers on the green leather top of his desk until Sewell finally dragged his feet through the door, before flexing his neck from side to side, straightening his cravat, and reluctantly pushing himself to his feet.
Mounting the great oak staircase, he couldn’t help but wonder what his father would have done in his situation, stuck with the wrong—not to mention, entirely unsuitable—woman for a wife, but it was impossible to imagine his father ever getting himself into such a mess in the first place.
He would have known better than to fall into the marriage trap Leo had so blindly and foolishly walked into.
None the less, it was a trap he now had to live with, which meant that he also had no choice but to keep on walking.
As if this house didn’t feel like enough of a prison already…
‘My lord.’ Dr Pritchard met him in the corridor outside his wife’s bedchamber. ‘Thank you for coming so swiftly.’
‘Doctor.’ Leo inclined his head. ‘How is Her Ladyship?’
‘She has a bad cold, as expected, given the circumstances, but in general she appears to be making an excellent physical recovery.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He took hold of the door handle and frowned. ‘Why is this locked?’
‘That’s what I wished to speak to you about, my lord.
It was for her own safety. I’m afraid that Her Ladyship’s behaviour was becoming somewhat hysterical.
I thought it best to give her some time alone.
’ He glanced nervously at the door, as if he were afraid she might walk straight through it like some kind of phantom.
‘Unfortunately, her accident appears to have had some unusual consequences.’
‘What kind of consequences?’ He held out a hand. ‘The key?’
‘Of course.’ The doctor placed the item in his palm. ‘Amnesia, my lord. It’s not uncommon in the case of head injuries, although in Her Ladyship’s case, the timing is unusually specific.’
‘How so?’
‘She appears to have forgotten the entire past month.’
‘The past…’ Leo paused as he slid the key into the lock. ‘But we were married on the seventeenth of June. That would mean—’
‘I’m afraid so.’ The doctor coughed. ‘She seems to have no recollection of being married, or even engaged. She recognises your name, only she appears to find the idea of marriage somewhat…ah…distressing.’
‘Indeed?’ He arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t the only one.
‘Not the idea of being married to you, I’m certain.’ The doctor backtracked hastily. ‘Presumably just her current predicament. Memory loss can be most disorienting.’
‘I’m sure. Is it likely to be permanent?’
‘Not usually, although each case is different. Her memory may return gradually, or…in some cases…not. It’s impossible to be certain.’
‘I see.’ Leo turned the key finally. ‘Well, I appreciate the warning. Has she had anything to eat or drink since she woke?’
‘Not yet, my lord. As I said, she was becoming hysterical, but it would be a good idea for her to have some nourishment after such a long period of unconsciousness. I’ve already sent the nurse to fetch some soup, after which Her Ladyship really ought to rest. A good night’s sleep can often work wonders.
However, if you could set her mind at ease in the meantime, it would be most beneficial. ’
‘Quite.’ Leo kept his expression blank with an effort. Given the circumstances, he was quite possibly the last person in the world qualified to set his wife’s mind at ease, but he supposed he ought to try.
Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped into the room, just in time to catch the former Miss Florence Lowrie, now Lady Florence Claridge, preparing to hurl what appeared to be a collection of tied-together sheets out of the window.
As escape attempts went, it struck him as disappointingly unoriginal.
‘Florence?’ Her name felt strange in his mouth, but then he hadn’t had a great many occasions to use it. They’d barely spoken since the wedding. Or at least he’d barely spoken to her. She’d spoken to him, or tried to, but he hadn’t been in the mood for listening.
‘You!’ She spun around instantly, her whole body bristling like that of a cornered animal, albeit one with a bright red nose and dressed in a white silk nightgown.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d bared her teeth, shaped her hands into claws and started growling at him.
‘You can’t come in here. It’s my bedchamber! ’