Chapter Seven
Con concluded his meeting with Tabor, his steward. They had spent several hours going over the final accounting of the autumn harvest. He thanked Tabor for the fine job the estate manager had done and then retreated to his study.
A little over two and a half months had passed since his father has suddenly passed, and Con missed him dreadfully.
He had been close to his father, regularly meeting him in town for dinner or drinks at White’s.
His father had been very open-minded and kind to all.
He never judged anyone harshly, nor did Con ever hear a cruel word come from his father’s lips.
He felt at loose ends now, with the harvest completed.
Tabor was incredibly efficient and really didn’t need Con around.
While he had enjoyed getting to know his tenants and learn more about the running of Marleyfield, he feared with the harvest over, he would be bored. He itched to go back to town.
To see Miss Stanhope.
Try as he might, he could not forget the kisses they had shared.
Though skilled at kissing, Con usually avoided it because it gave women the wrong idea.
Kissing was a very intimate act, almost as intimate as coupling, as far as he was concerned.
Over the years, he had learned how to please a woman, but if he kissed her on the lips?
She seemed to think that he was much more serious about her than he was.
He would kiss napes. Elbows. Knees. Even toes.
But kissing a woman the way he did Miss Stanhope was not something he was accustomed to doing very often.
Closing his eyes, he went back to that night in the Purlington gardens.
He could smell the sweetly-scented flowers surrounding them as they sat close together on the bench.
Slowly, he relived every kiss he could recall—and the feelings of euphoria kissing Miss Stanhope brought to him. He would never forget the taste of her.
And he yearned to kiss her again.
Nothing held him to Marleyfield now, especially since the harvest had been brought in.
True, the mill would be operating many hours a day, but that was something Tabor could look after.
Con decided he would journey to town and pay Miss Stanhope a visit.
He regretted not writing a note to her, telling her of his father’s passing and that he and his mother would be leaving immediately for Marleyfield.
It was a small thing, but it had bothered him more than he cared to admit.
He had thought to write to her and apologize after arriving at Marleyfield, citing his grief as the reason he had not thought to send her a note or even call in person for a brief visit before departing town.
What if she turned him away? She was no wilting flower. Rather, Miss Stanhope was a strong woman of character. She must have been quite angry when he had not shown up as promised. Hopefully, she would agree to see him and allow him to issue a heartfelt apology.
It was time for tea, so he went to the drawing room, finding Mama already present.
Mama had not shed a single tear for Papa, something he had trouble understanding.
Then again, they were no love match. He gathered his father had been the catch of Mama’s come-out Season, a wealthy earl who was handsome and incredibly good-natured.
Mama was smart, stubborn, and used to getting her way.
She had been the real power in the marriage, and Papa had simply gone along with whatever she desired.
He had told Con once it was easier letting Mama have her way than to stand in her path and be demolished.
As she poured out now, she said, “I think I am going to visit a friend of mine in Sussex. She has been pressing me to come to her. She lost her own husband last winter, and so she did not attend the Season this year because she was in mourning. I shared with her that Marley was now gone, and she thought we might bring one another some comfort.”
This was better than he could have imagined. He had been wondering what excuse to give, leaving her alone at Marleyfield while he returned to town.
“Will you be there long?” he asked.
“I wrote to her this morning, agreeing to stay for a few months. You do not need me here, and you know I grow bored after being in the country for a while.”
“I was actually thinking of returning to town myself for a bit,” he confessed. “I could escort you in our carriage as far as town, and then you could continue on your way.”
“In the carriage?” she asked, her gaze daring him to deny her its use.
He was the earl, however, and if he were going to completely exercise his power, he must start now.
“No, Mama. I will have need of my carriage in town. However, I will rent a post-chaise for you to continue on to Sussex. They are sleek and fast and will get you to your destination.”
“Everything is in order here?” she pressed.
Knowing she had looked at Tabor’s reports only yesterday, he said, “You know they are, Mama. You have kept a close eye on the running of Marleyfield. You do not have to do so in the future.”
This was his way of telling her that he was in charge of the country estate. It would be interesting to hear her response.
She sighed. “Your father had no head for figures. No idea what money meant. He was always overly generous with others to a fault. I have had to ride roughshod over everyone in order to have people live up to their full potential.”
“Well, I am Marley now,” he said lightly. “And I have no need of you looking over my shoulder.”
Mama patted his knee. “You have your father’s kind spirit—but you take after me in other ways. I suppose it is time to completely turn the reins over to you, Constantine.”
She only addressed him familiarly when they were alone, but she refused to call him Con. Mama addressed all three of her children by their full, given name, though each of them chose to go by a more diminutive form of it.
“I am not a gambler, so I will not be a wastrel as far as the estate goes.”
Nodding approvingly, she said, “I know you thought I was too harsh with you, keeping you on such a limited allowance. It taught you the value of a coin, however, didn’t it?”
“It did,” he agreed. “I knew I did not have enough funds to gamble them away. The thought of gambling holds no appeal to me.”
She cupped his cheek. “You are a good man, Constantine. Now, all you have to do is find your countess.” She paused. “Perhaps that is the reason you are returning to town?”
“The Season is over and done with,” he said brusquely, not wishing to reveal his true reason for returning to town. “The Marriage Mart will not be up and running until next spring.”
Mama sighed. “A part of me wishes for you to wed one of the girls who is making her come-out. She would be young and easy to mold.”
He frowned. “There will be no molding of my wife, Mama. When I do choose whom to wed, I will wed her for who she is—not who you wish to turn her into.”
She chuckled. “I do have a tendency to make others dance to my tune. That makes me think you might wish to look to someone who has been out for a bit. Someone with enough polish to be a countess.”
“I will take your advice under consideration, Mama.” Trying not to sound too eager, he asked, “Would you be ready to leave tomorrow morning? I would hate to keep your friend waiting.”
“I suppose we could do so. I shall have my maid pack. Yes, I can be ready tomorrow morning after I breakfast.”
“Do not linger too long over your meal,” he advised. “It will take us a good two days to reach town. You should plan to stay overnight there before you continue on to Sussex.”
“That is a good idea. You know I hate to stop at inns. Too many do not live up to my specific standards.”
“I am glad that is settled. I think I shall go speak with Benchley now and advise him we will leave early tomorrow morning.”
Con had inherited Benchley from his father.
The valet was thirty, just a few years older than Con himself, and the first time he had employed a valet.
His pitiful allowance had not provided enough funds to hire one.
He hoped Benchley would be with him for many years.
Already, the valet spoiled Con, doing something for him before he even thought about it needing to be done.
He liked that Benchley anticipated his every need.
Having had a valet for two months now, Con wasn’t certain he could ever go back to not having one.
He passed Mrs. Seward on his way upstairs and informed the housekeeper that he and his mother would be leaving tomorrow morning.
“Mama will be visiting a friend in Sussex for a few months. I will be in town for an indeterminate amount of time. Of course, I will send word when I am to return.”
“I will let Seward know of your plans, my lord, and that of Lady Marley.”
“Thank you.”
Benchley was not in Con’s bedchamber, so he rang for him. When the valet arrived, he said, “I am leaving for town tomorrow morning and will be there indefinitely.”
“I will prepare for the journey now, my lord. Is there anything special you wish to take with us, or is it up to my discretion?”
“Pack plenty of everyday clothes. A few pairs of evening clothes, as well. The Season might be over, but there is the chance I could have dinner plans and would need to dress appropriately.”
“Very well, my lord.”
He returned to his study, once more looking through some of the papers his father had left behind.
Con had found his mother going through this very stack of papers shortly after they had returned and buried his father.
He had let her know in no uncertain terms that he was the Earl of Marley now and would take care of his own business without any help from her.
His rebuff had angered her, but her anger had cooled. In fact, Mama had apologized to him.