Page 53 of A Figure of Love

“I’m afraid I’ve only visited the forge in town.”

“Well, if you’d gone into the King’s Head or Mrs. Cooper’s Emporium, you would know it is the talk of the town.”

Gareth had no idea what that meant. What possible interest could people from town have in the moving of a rock at least three miles away?

Mrs. Lombard opened her mouth and then closed it. And then opened it again.

It was clear she had something to say but didn’t know how to say it; Gareth waited.

“I should not like to overstep,” she said, her cheeks tinting and reminding him very much of her son.

“Mrs. Lombard, if you know something I should hear about, please tell me.”

“I was going to suggest you have a little celebration around the event.”

“A celebration?”

“Just something informal. A way for you to meet your neighbors.”

Gareth doubted it would be politic to tell her he’d gone to a great deal of effort to avoid meeting his neighbors and had actively dodged them when they’d come to call in the early days.

“There is a good deal of curiosity about you, Mr. Lockheart. The squire, who would have provided a social core for the area, is old and fragile and has divested himself of a good deal of his property. I believe you purchased a large section of it?”

“Yes. He has no immediate heir and holds his entire family in great dislike. I believe he is considered something of an eccentric.” It amused him to speak of somebody else being eccentric, for a change. “The squire was eager to sell it all so I bought the entirety of his land, including the house. He resides there by virtue of a life estate I granted him.”

“You own all the land that surrounds the village?”

“Yes.”

“My goodness. And the squire’s tenants?”

“They are now my tenants.”

A look of understanding bloomed on her face.

He could not resist asking, “What is it?”

“That explains the new roofs, drainage project, and other improvements. The villagers talk of little else—when not discussing the Great Rock Moving. But they believe the squire is responsible, which has confounded them as he has been notoriously clutch-fisted since taking possession of his estates.”

“I’ve kept the transfer from the people who live here. The squire is old; although he is neither a kind nor generous man, I believe it would make his final days unpleasant should it be known he is nothing more than a tenant, himself.” Gareth glanced from Mrs. Lombard to the two footmen standing in front of the sideboard. He stared hard at them, until he was sure he’d communicated his message. He paid his servants twice what any other employer in the area paid; he expected the extra money to purchase their discretion.

The look on Mrs. Lombard’s face made him uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. “Tell me more about this celebration you have in mind.”

∞∞∞

One of the other aspects of life without Declan was that Gareth no longer had to drink port every evening. He loathed the beverage and had only fiddled with a glass of it to keep his friend company. He’d learned, after attending more than his fair share of business dinners, that men of business did not trust a man who would not drink with them.

But now he could join Mrs. Lombard in the library after dinner, where they’d taken to spending a couple of hours together before she went up to bed. He had no idea whether she’d wandered the halls since that night in the kitchen since he’d kept to his quarters to avoid finding out. Indeed, his nights had assumed a rather tedious pattern after she excused herself. He would do work for another hour and then go to his chambers and expend his pent-up frustration on the unfortunate bags. Already Chalmers had needed to repair the smaller bag when its seam split one night.

And when that didn’t serve to calm him, he’d relieved himself in his fist. Not since he’d been a youth had he abused himself with such frequency. And even that did not serve to send him to sleep some nights. But at least it freed his mind for a few hours to think. He’d begun bringing his work to his chambers and drawing up his plans and recommendations in the early hours of the day.

Declan had been gone a week now and Gareth still had no word from him. He had told himself that he was not allowed to begin fretting about his friend until after the rock moving, which would make Dec’s absence ten days. He would leave here the day after he’d completed the project and go to London first. He knew Declan’s habits almost as well as he knew his own. He would be in London, most likely in a whorehouse. Possibly even at the White House, although he tended toward earthier establishments. Wherever he was, Gareth would find him.

∞∞∞

It wasn’t until two days before Mr. Lockheart was to leave that Serena realized she was more than just infatuated with him.

As a special treat, Oliver had been allowed to stay up later than usual and join the adults in the dining room for dinner.