he shivered. Last winter had been one of the worst anyone could remember. Signs pointed to another cold and snowy one.
Coming over a ridge, Jacob saw Warrick Hall in front of him. It was a dark, hulking building. Oddly enough, Warrick Hall had not sustained any damage from the gunpowder explosion. The contour of the moor had protected the ancient house from the concussion. That was good, because the shock from the detonation could have done far more damage to the run-down structure than break a few windows. He was grateful the roof did not leak or had fallen in as ones had on some of the outbuildings.
The house had only two servants indoors as well as the lad who tended the horses and cleaned the stable. The two servants were both so elderly, Jacob felt as if he should serve them. Mrs. Trannock, the cook, oversaw the kitchens, which were as out of date as the mines had been. Wherry was butler and footman, and he would have been Jacob’s valet if Jacob had allowed it. The wizened man could barely climb the stairs, but insisted on answering the door and attending the table during meals.
As Warrick Hall seldom had visitors, Jacob did not have to worry about them being left out in the rain or cold while Wherry shuffled his way slowly to the door. He had solved the other issue by telling both the cook and the butler he preferred to collect a tray from the kitchen and eat in his room while he read reports or toiled over the paperwork that never seemed to end. He should hire an estate manager as well as someone to handle the mine’s accounts, but he did not have time to interview anyone.
The wind grew stronger as he rode toward the house. He would order a cup of something warm from the kitchen and sip it while he handled the week’s correspondence. Actually, the correspondence was almost a month old, and there was no more room on his desk for another piece of paper.
He was relieved when he saw Howell standing in the stable’s doorway, ready to take Shadow. Thanking the lad, Jacob rushed to the house. There were closer doors than the front one, but they opened into sections of Warrick Hall where the floors could not be trusted. Something he had learned shortly after his arrival. He had been exploring the vast house. The floor had broken beneath him, and he had nearly fallen into the cellar.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” said Wherry when he opened the door to usher Jacob in. His white hair was brushed back from his face, and not a speck of lint ruined the perfection of his black livery. “She is waiting for you in the gold parlor.”
“She?”
“Lady Caroline. She said you were expecting her.”
Was he? He could not recall setting a date or time for Lady Caroline to visit Warrick Hall. His heart had begun a cheery dance in his chest at the mention of her name, and his lips wanted to turn up in a silly smile.
“I trust having her wait in the gold parlor was what you would have wanted, my lord,” Wherry continued.
He was astonished how excited the butler sounded that Lady Caroline was calling. Again it was as if Lady Caroline made everyone’s life brighter simply by being a part of it...as she did his. He swallowed his chuckle as he imagined how she would laugh at his frivolous thoughts.
His urge to smile vanished as he glanced around the entrance hall. The heavy wood on the walls had been painted a deep black that consumed every bit of light. For some reason, his uncle had had wood installed over the windows, so no sunshine could enter. The rest of the house was as dark and dreary. The gold parlor, called that because of a hideous gilt frame around a mirror on the chimneypiece, was one of the least grim rooms. It did reek, however, of the tobacco his uncle had used, an odor so overwhelming that Jacob avoided the room whenever possible. He could not leave Lady Caroline sitting in the stench.
“Thank you, Wherry. I trust a fire was laid and lit in the room.”
“Most certainly.” The butler acted offended that Jacob had asked such a question. “Shall I have a tea prepared for you and the lady?”
“Thank you.”
Wherry bowed his head, then walked away at the best pace his bowed legs could make.
Jacob went to the gold parlor. He took a bolstering breath before he walked through the parlor’s open door. He must not make another faux pas while greeting Lady Caroline, though that might be difficult when he did not know what he had done wrong before.
He almost groaned when he saw the state of the room. It was in no condition for a lady. Canvas was draped over the furniture. Pictures were wrapped in linen and leaning against walls beneath the lighter rectangles where they once had hung. Even the mirror that gave the room its name was draped. The rug had not been unrolled. It remained beneath the bay windows on the far side of the room. A fire burned merrily on the hearth. At least someone had opened the draft, because the smoke rushed up the chimney.
If Lady Caroline was bothered by the disarray, he saw no sign of it as she rose gracefully from the only chair not covered with dusty canvas. Her dark red velvet coat matched the ribbons at the bodice of her gown. A cut velvet bonnet the same color perched on her black hair. The shade accented the deep rose brushing her cheeks and complemented the sparkle in her blue eyes. When she walked toward him as if they stood in the gallery of a fine palace instead of a run-down house, she did not offer her hand.
He was relieved because he obviously had done something wrong when he bowed over her fingers at Cothaire. Now he did not have to chance repeating the error.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Jacob said as he stepped around the mound of canvas that had been swept off her chair and left on the floor. He hoped Wherry had handled that task rather than expecting the lady to do it herself.
She faltered. “Surprise? I thought you wished my help with preparing your house for your family’s visit.”
“I do need your help, and I am delighted you are here.” There. That sounded like something a titled gentleman would say. Emboldened by the thought, he said, “I am glad you are here. Do you think Warrick Hall can be made presentable in a month’s time?”
* * *
Caroline wondered if the air had been sucked out of the room. She could not draw in a breath. When she had been shown into the parlor, she had guessed it was because the room was ready for guests. What a shock to discover its abandoned state! She clasped her hands in front of her, wondering if the parlor truly was the best available space to receive people. Certainly the entry hall offered no welcome.
“A month...” Caroline repeated while she tried to determine how best to answer without insulting Lord Warrick and his home. To own the truth, she doubted the house could be repaired to the point of welcoming guests in anything less than a year.
“It is a herculean task, I realize,” he said, and she guessed her thoughts had been on her face.
She walked to where the door hung from one hinge. She fought the urge to push it straighter, because she had the irrational thought that moving a single item could bring the whole structure down on their heads. Looking into the corridor, she stared at the peeling wall coverings and damp stains. The reek of mildew filled every breath she took. She wondered how Lord Warrick managed to live amidst the ruin of what had once been a grand house.
“It is impossible,” she said, then wished she had not been blunt when his face fell.
His fingers folded into frustrated fists at his sides. “If it is impossible for you, then...” Turning away, he picked up the canvas and tossed it atop another chair. “Thank you for calling, my lady. I am sorry to waste your time.”
“Wait a moment!” she called as he took a step toward the door. “I didn’t say I would be unwilling to try.”
Hope flared in his dark eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.” She drawled the word out, searching his face. His relief was so strong. “May I ask you a question which is truly none of my bread-and-butter?”
He chuckled. “You cannot ask any question that I would take the wrong way.”
“You may not think so when you hear my question.”
“Fire