Chapter 1
Three months later, London, England. Late March.
“As you can see, I will certainly have my hands full with restorations.” Julian Sinclair placed his hands behind his back and clenched his jaw as he looked at the numerous issues that had befallen Redding Hall.
Wallpapers were peeling, and buckets had been placed around the foyer to catch the many droplets of water that leaked through the ceiling. Even the spring breeze seemed to have come in uninvited and made a home in the drafty halls.
No servants had been there to greet him and his friend, but the solicitor had warned Julian that they would be far too busy plugging holes when he arrived. Not even a butler or housekeeper had set foot on the premises for as many years as Julian had not spoken to his cousin.
“You certainly will.” Benedict Southampton looked around the foyer while drawing his lower lip between his teeth. As Julian’s oldest friend, he always gave his opinions decidedly without hesitation.
“And you never knew that your cousin had allowed the place to fall into such a state of disrepair?” He tore his eyes away from a pail of water that was just beginning to drip over onto the already ruined flooring. His light brown hair matched the color of his eyes, which overflowed with concern.
Julian shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek as he ran his fingers through his cropped curly black hair that had been cut short in an attempt to tame it.
Although most attempts usually seemed futile, it was more manageable when it was short.
“I am afraid that my cousin was a private man. Or at least, he was with our side of the family. The Viscount of Barnard never paid us poor relatives much heed.”
Benedict let out a low whistle as he once again began to survey the damage.
The boyish charm that usually marked his character was replaced with a grave look of concern.
“It certainly is shocking how a gambling addiction can throw an estate into such disarray. Have you any idea of how you shall pay for all of this?”
Julian’s chest clenched along with his jaw. “I do not. I had considered giving up the title, but my position as the new Viscount will help my sister find an advantageous match.” He tried to push aside the resentment that he felt toward his cousin for leaving him such a mess.
His friend nodded. “I can understand. A title is only as good as the paper that is written on as long as the estate is functioning and in good hands. I am grateful at times that I am the second son of a baron and not directly in line to inherit…” His words trailed off when the bucket beside his boots accepted a final drop and splashed dirty water onto the polished leather.
“Indeed,” Julian grumbled, further resenting the fact that he had to leave behind a life in the military to sort out the family mess.
“Perhaps you should take a wife,” Benedict suggested after rubbing his boot on the back of his cream breeches.
“That is by far the worst idea that you have ever come up with,” Julian answered without hesitation, prompting his best friend to roll his eyes.
Benedict was at least a head shorter than Julian, and lean rather than muscular.
They had become friends during the Napoleonic Wars when title and status had not mattered on the battlefield.
“You are such a curmudgeon when it comes to these matters, Julian. You are a sought-after man. Even before your newly inherited title, women were throwing themselves at your feet.”
“Which gives me all the more reason not to entertain any of that nonsense,” he grumbled again.
He was a well-built man with stunning blue eyes that bordered on gray, yet his years in the military and past experiences had taught him that looks were not all that mattered when character played a bigger part.
He detested the thought of ever having to lend his heart out to someone who could break it.
Benedict interrupted his thoughts again.
“I never said anything about love, Julian. I merely meant that you should consider the virtues of having a marriage of convenience. There is a fresh batch of debutants this season, and balls will be in full swing soon enough. It is the perfect time for you to find a wife with plenty of money.”
“And you find your terms acceptable to start a marriage? You know my stance on the matter, especially after what happened the last time I convinced myself that I had been in love.” He raised an eyebrow.
Benedict stopped and looked around the almost crumbling foyer.
“Not if you think it acceptable to bring your mother and sister to live in such deplorable conditions. I suppose you could always keep the small house in London, but it is not very befitting of a viscount, nor do I think you will find someone higher than a merchant to marry your sister. Unless you have hidden fortunes that I know nothing of?”
He looked back at Julian with raised brows before placing his hands on his hips.
Heaving a sigh, Julian resolved himself to the situation. “Never mind all that, there shall be plenty of time for me to figure that all out. My mother and sister are waiting for me. Will you be joining us for supper?”
His friend lowered his hands from his hips. “I would appreciate that. I dread returning home and telling my father that I have not made progress on any of my plans to own a merchant ship. Supper with your family sounds far more agreeable.”
Julian nodded, heading toward the front doors as a means of putting a stop to his friend’s line of questioning.
“You know, it is going to be hard for me to adjust to calling you ‘my lord’. It seems so formal, given the fact that you were merely a respectable soldier only last month.” Benedict continued from somewhere behind him.
“Then do not. Julian will suffice,” Julian gritted his teeth when the front door almost refused to open. He placed his shoulder against the wood and gave it a good shove.
The large wooden doors popped open on one side, ushering in a cool breeze that smacked them both in the face.
“How many servants did you say are still employed here at Redding Hall?” Benedict asked as soon as they stepped out and shut the door behind them with a great deal of effort.
“Eight,” Julian muttered a reply on his way down the large stone steps.
“Blimey, eight servants to maintain a house that should be run by at least thirty. You honestly do have a challenge on your hands. I do not envy you, my lord.” He ignored Julian’s previous request.
Grunting an inaudible reply, Julian made his way toward their horses. The fallen dry leaves crunched beneath his boots, reminding him of all the problems he had yet to solve.
The horses neighed and bobbed their heads when the men took hold of the reins and mounted their saddles.
It gave Julian ample opportunity to survey the building from the outside. He had not noticed at first, but the ivy was creeping up the walls in the wrong places. Several windows had been boarded up and strategically hidden with tall plants where possible on the ground floor.
“A casual onlooker would never have said that the house was in such a state of disrepair,” Benedict added from the side as he turned his white mare back in the direction of the house.
“I think that is exactly what the late viscount wanted everyone to think. He wanted to give off the appearance of someone who had matters in hand. It also goes to show that his social life was not as elaborate as he displayed.” His jaw clenched a little again as he thought of the responsibilities he would now have to take on. All because of another man’s folly.
“Makes you glad to have spent time in the army, does it not? We were saved from this kind ending, in a way.”
“Yes, but what kind of ending will I have to face if I do not find a means to resolve all of these problems? I would rather stare down the barrel of a musket than have to deal with this mess.”
***
“Mother, is the supper ready?” Julian halted and stopped himself from sighing the moment he set foot in his mother’s drawing room.
His mother, Catherine, came to her feet, smiling knowingly at Julian as she shot him a pleading glance. Her dark brown hair, which had always verged black, had begun to show spots of graying at the roots, showing her fifty years despite the youthful appearance of her skin and expressive blue eyes.
“Ah, Julian, there you are. I was wondering when you would be joining us. And I see you have brought Mr. Southampton along with you.” She smiled at Benedict kindly.
Julian stiffened as he bowed slightly to his mother. “I hope you do not mind that I asked him without checking with you first, Mother.” He inclined his head slightly to the beaming young woman beside his sister on the forest green settee. “Miss Everet.”
His mother spoke again quickly, sensing his discomfort when the younger girl beamed at him, blushing slightly as she averted her gaze.
“It is perfectly fine, Julian. Your sister and I were just entertaining Miss Everet and invited her to have supper with us, so we shall have a full house this evening. I know you will not mind accommodating an old friend.” His mother gave him another pointed look that almost made him sigh.
“Of course, a full house is better than no company at all,” he said stiffly before turning back toward the young woman. “It is an honor to have you with us this evening, Miss Everet.”
Eleanor Everet blushed slightly as she came to her feet. Her light brown hair had been braided on either side of her head, highlighting her gaunt features as she curtsied and spoke.
“Thank you for having me, my lord. And congratulations on your new title and position. We have not seen each other since you received the news. You are well, I trust?” She spoke meekly, almost as if she were out of breath.
Her light brown eyes seemed to dart around the neatly decorated room before meeting his gaze once again.
There it is again.