Chapter Twenty-Six
Justin’s strength had come back with a vengeance.
After three days confined to his bed after the fever broke, he was keen to solve every problem in his life.
Now that Payne had finally made it to Hollyhead, there were mountains of correspondence that required his attention, not to mention the repair work taking place on the estate and the ball that was four days away.
Nothing made Justin feel better than tackling each issue one by one and making sure things were seen to.
It was the one thing, possibly the only thing he and Cordelia shared that could be considered a similarity.
But he couldn’t think of Cordelia now, especially after she’d rejected him again and he’d made a complete ass of himself.
He resolved to push ahead with his to-do list and put all of his feelings about that infuriating woman in a box, and then promptly shove that box into a corner in his mind, where he would not have to think about it.
Unless, of course, it was just after midnight and he couldn’t sleep.
Then he would review the memories of her, in painstaking detail.
But he found that in the daylight, she did not plague him as much.
Though perhaps that had more to do with running himself ragged trying to get as much done as possible.
So instead, he focused all of his energy on his work.
His secretary, as eccentric and ridiculous as the man was, had a remarkable penchant for organization.
Without him by his side, Justin might have drowned himself in Hollyhead’s reflecting pond.
Payne had nearly had a conniption when he saw the state of his employer’s office, but then quickly set to work making sure everything was in some sort of order.
“There is no such thing as organized chaos,” the man admonished, bringing Justin papers to sign when he was still jailed in the duke’s chambers. “Just chaos.”
The two of them paid legal fees, noted which documents needed signing, filed contracts and land agreements away, and finalized the rent agreement for the Rothesay cottage.
One day he even forced Payne to ride out with him to view the progress being made on the new irrigation system.
Payne was awkward in the saddle, but Buttercup was gentle as they walked through Hollyhead’s lush farmland to where the pumps were being installed.
Brutus had snorted and pawed the ground, wanting to go at a faster pace, but was unusually understanding of Justin’s ill riding. They seemed to have formed an understanding or at least a tolerance of each other.
Payne was pleasantly surprised by how well the construction looked.
Though he himself was not an architect, having worked on building sites for the past twenty years the man had gained enough knowledge to know what he was looking at.
The project was moving along smoothly and with any luck, it would be finished before the end of summer.
“I think the irrigation systems would also be beneficial for the planting of vines,” Payne told him as he struggled to keep up with Justin, who was striding toward his office. He’d had an idea of how to improve the ductwork on the irrigation piping and wanted to make a sketch before he forgot.
“Planting of vines?” he questioned. “Surely you’re not still thinking about those grapes?”
“I must admit, sir,” Payne said, huffing, “I have been speaking with the young Miss Nichols and it appears that the—”
They both paused as they entered the room. Hermione Nichols was standing behind his desk, looking up at the painting of her father. Justin went stock still, feeling as though he were observing a rare bird, one which any sudden movement would immediately frighten it away.
“Miss Nichols,” Justin said.
Hermione turned and immediately dipped, her cheeks reddening.
Her hair was caught in a loose coif, darker than a raven’s wing.
Justin had sometimes mused to himself when he was sketching that the sisters of Hollyhead were rather like chess pieces.
Cordelia was a rook, determined in the one direction she took, where Portia was more like a knight, brave and bold with her crooked sense of humor.
Bea was the king, self-assured wherever she wanted to go, though she still couldn’t go far.
And then there was Hermione, silent and unexpected.
He couldn’t tell if she were a bishop, or a queen in disguise.
“I-I-I w-wanted to le-leave m-m-my b-b-book on b-b…botany here… for you,” she forced out.
She held the tome in her hands, her fingers marking certain pages for him. She laid it out on his desk, flipping to one.
“Oh?” Justin said, going to stand beside her. Payne had finally gotten the office to a state where there was enough room to place things on the desk. It was nothing short of a miracle.
“Y-yes,” she began, pointing at the types of vines she’d suggested he look at. “I-I h-have a f-f-fr-friend in L-London. They are a-a-an expert.” The words tumbled out of her mouth at an awkward pace, but she was still easier to understand than Portia.
“Well,” Justin said. “We won’t have long, but if you think that person has enough knowledge to help us plan a potential vineyard, why not? At the very least we could provide the plans to the new owners,” Justin remarked.
Hermione’s brown eyes lit up. “Truly?” she said, clasping her hands over her chest. Justin noted the way she did not stutter.
“What do you think, Payne?” he asked, turning to face his secretary.
The corners of the man’s mouth quirked up in a rare smile. “I’d say that’s an excellent proposition, given how knowledgeable the young lady is on this subject.”
“I-I’ll pen a l-l-letter s-straight away,” she noted, gathering up the large tome and curtsying.
As soon as she left, Payne turned to him. “I daresay the ladies of house are all quite charming, and very welcoming too.”
Justin stared at him, and blinked. “That’s a generous assessment after only a few days.”
“Oh, everyone has been most kind. I perhaps am being too bold, but I rather think you have taken to this life with relative ease. Riding all over the estate like Old King Henry! Hard to believe you’ve been a Londoner your whole life,” Payne said, shaking his head as he gathered some papers from his briefcase.
Justin needed to close his mouth consciously after hearing those pronouncements.
He could still hardly believe it after dinner, when he and Peverill were sharing a brandy in the library.
The dinner that evening had been the liveliest there was.
His mother and Peverill sparred over the table, Portia cheering her on.
Bea had been ready with laughter, and even Hermione had joined in.
Cordelia had been quiet but smiled the entire time.
Justin tried not to steal too many glances at her, but it was difficult when she looked so soft and feminine in the candlelight.
“What’s got you smiling?” Peverill asked. He went to stand over by the windows, watching as the last dregs of sunlight faded behind the green hills.
“Payne reckoned I looked like an English gentleman. Thought I’d taken to this life like a duck to water,” Justin replied.
Peverill nearly spit out his drink. “Truly?”
Justin shrugged.
“You know, I might actually agree with him on this. Though only recently I’ve noticed. The beginning was an unequivocal disaster.”
He laughed at his friend’s summation. “Hard to believe that this will all come to an end in a few days’ time.”
Peverill only smiled slyly at him. “Well, perhaps things will change. You’ve had pretty good luck thus far. Don’t count yourself out yet.”
“The house is broke, the tenants have no good crops, the cottage is rented, the castle is in ruins,” he reminded Peverill. “And I’m a breath away from being bought out at the firm.”
“I wasn’t talking about those things,” Peverill replied, raising an eyebrow.
Instead of replying Justin took a sip of the brandy.
Peverill drained his glass and pushed off the wall. “I’m away to London.”
“Tonight?” Justin asked. “It will be full dark by the time you leave.”
“I know—but I have inquiries to make and a short timeline to do so. Don’t you worry. I’ll be back in time for your big debut,” he said, clapping Justin on the shoulder. “You know, mate, things change. I think you still have a few horseshoes hidden somewhere yet.”