Chapter Two #2
Kitty understood the baroness’s confusion.
Most mothers would avoid introductions with such obvious rakes.
But Priscilla Childs had somewhat different requirements for a proper introduction.
All she asked was that the man be unattached, in need of funds, and possess sufficient social connections.
As far as Kitty could tell, character was not a consideration.
Though instead of voicing her thoughts aloud, Kitty merely stated, “It would appear so.”
“Hmm.” She could feel Lady Sampson study her. “Predators are observant as they stalk their prey. But the prey must be even more vigilant.”
Kitty turned and faced the baroness. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing, my dear.” Lady Sampson brushed off her unexpected comment. “Though I believe it is time to get you out of London.”
Oliver let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the turnoff to Blackthorne Park.
The sun had not yet fully set, but it would soon.
The distance from London to his home in Hampshire could be traveled in one day with a change of horses, but it made for a miserably long day.
After spending most of the day in the saddle, Oliver wanted nothing more than a warm bath and his own soft bed.
Before turning off the main road, Oliver called out to his traveling companion. “Thank you again for accompanying me.”
“Of course,” Nat replied as he trotted past. “I’m glad you got everything squared away.”
Oliver bid his brother-in-law goodnight and made the last turn toward home.
Nat continued down the main road, but it would not be long before he reached his own estate.
Perhaps a quarter hour. Not for the first time, Oliver felt grateful that his oldest sister had married the heir of a neighboring estate and settled practically next door.
When Oliver reached the gravel drive, he rode straight past the house and pulled to a stop in front of the stables. Within moments of dropping from his saddle, a lanky groom appeared from the doorway and took hold of the reins. “Welcome home, sir.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Oliver addressed the young man. “Please give him a good rub-down and plenty of oats.”
Instead of taking the shortest route back to the house, which led to the kitchen door, Oliver walked back to the gravel drive.
The longer walk served two purposes. The first was that it allowed for a desperately needed stretch of his back and legs.
He swore he could feel every muscle pinch and strain as he moved down towards the doors.
But the second reason was to keep up appearances.
He was no longer a child who could slip through the kitchen door and steal a biscuit from the cook.
After almost three years, Oliver still did not feel like the master of his late father’s estate. But he did his best to act like a master, which included going through the front door like a gentleman.
“Welcome home, Mr. Linfield,” the youngest footman greeted Oliver in the entrance hall.
“Thank you, Harris,” Oliver responded before handing over his hat and gloves.
They had gone through the exchange countless times, but Oliver still had to suppress a flinch at being addressed as “Mr. Linfield.” He’d known from a very young age he would someday inherit Blackthorne Park, but it had come far too soon.
Mr. Charles Linfield should still be the Mr. Linfield who was addressed as such and who made the final decisions that affected servants and tenants across the entire estate. But he was gone.
Before walking up the staircase, Oliver addressed the liveried servant again. “Will you ask the kitchens to draw water for a bath while I greet my mother?”
“Of course, sir,” the footman responded before adding, “I believe you’ll find her ladyship in the east wing.”
Oliver paused with his hand on the banister.
The east wing? What could his mother possibly be doing there?
Most of the bedchambers in Blackthorne Park were on the west side of the house, including the corridor reserved for the family.
They only opened the east wing during house parties, when it became necessary to separate bachelors and unmarried ladies.
Something that had not happened in a number of years.
Oliver had rarely set foot in that section of the house since playing hide and seek with Tim during school holidays.
Voices echoed down the corridor as Oliver walked past the vaguely familiar doors of the east wing.
When he reached the furthest door, he found it open with his mother and her lady’s maid inside.
The Holland covers had been removed from the furniture, and every square inch of the bedchamber appeared covered with samples of wall coverings and fabrics.
Anything that would be needed to redecorate a room.
“Hello, Mother.”
Lady Diana looked up from a piece of blue fabric and smiled. “Welcome home. How was London?”
“Crowded,” Oliver retorted.
After biting back a smile, his mother clarified, “Were you able to accomplish your goals for your trip?”
“I was,” Oliver replied. “My meeting with Mr. Redburn went very well.” The entire reason Oliver had gone to London was to review his investments with his man of business. Like his father before him, he used the same investment firm as Nat. A decision that had served him well.
“I’m glad to hear it.” She turned and nodded to her maid, who curtsied and walked out of the room. “And did you attend any social functions?”
“Aunt Fulbourn hosted a small soiree the night we arrived.” Lady Diana did not look the least bit surprised at the news.
As he suspected, she was in on the matchmaking.
Instead of risking questions about the evening, he looked around the room and changed the subject.
“Are you redecorating the guest chambers?”
His mother returned to the blue fabric she’d held when he entered the room and studied it for a long moment before answering.
“With these large windows, this would make a fine sitting room.” She then turned and nodded towards the opposite wall, where the paneling concealed a small door.
“And it already shares a door with the adjoining bedchamber.”
Oliver walked over, opened the door, and looked inside. The smaller bedchamber was finely appointed with a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a dressing table, and a desk. “Are you expecting a guest who requires a private sitting room?”
“No.” She crossed the room and stood next to him in the doorway. “I’m planning on taking over these rooms as my own.”
Oliver snapped his full attention to his mother. “Is there something wrong with your rooms? Repairs that need to be made?”
“Not at all. They are fine rooms, but it is time for a change,” she paused and met his eyes, “for both of us.”
Though officially master of the estate, Oliver still slept in the same room he’d occupied since leaving the nursery. Some might have expected him to take over his father’s room once the official mourning period ended, but he saw no need. He was perfectly comfortable where he was.
His official reasons had been his unwillingness either to evict his mother from her rooms, or to sleep in the adjoining room.
But, in truth, he had no desire to take over his father’s room.
He was already forced to take over the estate.
But no matter what the laws of inheritance stated, none of it felt like his.
And he could never take the man’s place. Nor did he really want to.
“There really is no reason for you to move to the east wing,” Oliver claimed in a soft voice.
“I think there is,” his mother replied before her lips quirked into a mischievous position, “unless you have an announcement that would necessitate me moving all the way to the dower house.”
A lovely face from behind a pot invaded his thoughts, but he forced the image away. That lovely face belonged to a woman who had no interest in him, and whose mother was best avoided. He let out a breath. “The east wing will be fine.”
“Excellent.” His mother returned to her collection of fabric samples. “Besides, the dower house needs a full renovation before it is liveable. And I did not think you would want to take that on at the moment.”
In that, she was correct. It had been a very expensive year, and he knew that the small cottage that was meant to serve as a dower house needed extensive work.
It had sat vacant for decades. If that day ever came, it might be more cost-effective to simply build a new one. But for now, it was a non-issue.
Not wanting to continue the conversation, Oliver made his excuses. “I need to clean up from my journey before dinner.” Then he fled the room.