Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels 1)

“I’ve seen some of them. You’ve done impressive work.”

West shrugged nonchalantly.

They climbed into the coach and settled into the fine leather seats. “You seem to be thriving at Eversby Priory,” Devon remarked as their vehicle began to move.

“The devil knows why. There’s never a moment’s peace or privacy. A man can’t sit and think without being jumped on by some overexcited dog, or harassed by gabby females. There’s always an emergency: something breaking, exploding, or collapsing —”

“Exploding?”

“One explosion. The laundry drying room stove wasn’t properly ventilated – no, don’t be alarmed – a brick wall absorbed most of the force. No one was injured. The point is that the house is perpetually topsy-turvy.”

“Why don’t you come back to London, then?”

“I can’t.”

“If it’s because of your plan to visit every tenant family on the estate, I don’t see the need —”

“No, it’s not that. The fact is… Eversby Priory suits me. Damned if I know why.”

“Have you developed an attachment for… someone?” Devon asked, his soul icing over with the suspicion that West wanted Kathleen.

“All of them,” West admitted readily.

“But not one in particular?”

West blinked. “A romantic interest in one of the girls, you mean? Good God, no. I know too much about them. They’re like sisters to me.”

“Even Kathleen?”

“Especially her.” An absent smile crossed West’s face. “I’ve come to like her,” he said frankly. “Theo chose well for himself. She would have improved him.”

“He didn’t deserve her,” Devon muttered.

West shrugged. “I can’t think of a man who would.”

Devon clenched his hand until the scab over his knuckle pulled stingingly tight. “Does she ever mention Theo?”

“Not often. I can’t imagine a more dedicated effort to mourn someone, but it’s obvious that her heart isn’t in it.” Noticing Devon’s sharp glance, West said, “She knew Theo for a mere matter of months and was married to him for three days. Three days! How long should a woman grieve for a man she scarcely knew? It’s absurd for society to insist upon a fixed mourning period without regard to circumstance. Can’t such things be allowed to happen naturally?”

“The purpose of society is to prevent natural behavior,” Devon said dryly.

West grinned. “Granted. But Kathleen isn’t suited to the role of drab little widow. She has too much spirit. It’s why she was attracted to a Ravenel in the first place.”

The amiable relationship between West and Kathleen was immediately obvious upon their return to Eversby Priory. Kathleen came to the entrance hall while the butler was still collecting their hats and coats, and propped her hands on her hips as she viewed West with mock suspicion. “Have you brought back any farm animals?” she asked.

“Not this time.” West smiled and went to kiss her forehead.

To Devon’s surprise, Kathleen accepted the affectionate gesture without protest. “Did you learn as much as you’d hoped?” she asked.

“Ten times more,” West said promptly. “On the subject of fertilizer alone, I could regale you for hours.”

Kathleen laughed, but her expression became remote as she turned to Devon. “My lord.”

Annoyed by the stilted acknowledgment, Devon nodded in return.

It appeared that she had decided to hold him at arm’s length and pretend the kiss had never happened.

“The earl claims that you sent for him, my lady,” West said. “Should I assume that you pined for his charming company, or was there another reason?”

“After you left, there was a crisis with the Wootens,” Kathleen told him. “I informed Trenear of the situation and asked what he knew about it. So far he’s insisted on being mysterious.”

“What happened to the Wootens?” West asked, looking from one of them to the other.

“We’ll discuss it in the library,” Devon said. “Lady Trenear, it’s unnecessary for you to be present, however —”

“I will be present.” Kathleen’s brows lowered. “I gave the Wootens my personal assurance that everything would be sorted out.”

“They shouldn’t have come to you,” Devon said bluntly. “They should have waited to speak to my brother or Mr. Carlow.”

“They went to Mr. Carlow first,” she retorted, “and he knew nothing about the situation. And Mr. Ravenel wasn’t here. I was the only person available.”

“From now on, I would prefer you not to make yourself available when it comes to discussing leaseholds. You should limit yourself to whatever it is the lady of the manor is supposed to do. Bring them baskets when people are ill, and so forth.”

“What smug, condescending —” Kathleen began.

“Are we to stand here squabbling in the entrance hall?” West interceded hastily. “Let’s pretend to be civilized and proceed to the library.” He pulled Kathleen’s arm over his and accompanied her from the entrance hall. “I wouldn’t mind sending for some tea and sandwiches,” he said. “I’m starved after riding on the train. You’re always telling me to eat, remember?”

Devon strode after them, only half listening to the conversation. Scowling, he focused on the sight of Kathleen’s arm tucked into West’s. Why was he touching her? Why was she allowing it? The unfamiliar poisonous jealousy returned, coiling thickly in his chest.

“… and Mrs. Wooten couldn’t speak for weeping,” Kathleen said indignantly. “They have four children, and Mrs. Wooten’s elderly aunt to look after, and if they were to lose the farm —”

“Don’t worry,” West interrupted with a soothing murmur. “We’ll sort it all out. I promise.”

“Yes, but if Trenear made such an important decision without saying anything —”

“Nothing’s been decided yet,” Devon said stonily, following the pair.

Kathleen glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “Then why were there railroad surveyors on the estate land?”

“I prefer not to discuss my business affairs in the hallway.”