That Despicable Rogue. Virginia Heath
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two very fresh-faced footmen. None of the old staff remained, apart from Cook. That was fortunate. The fewer people who knew her true identity the better—however, the village was still filled with familiar faces so she would have to avoid it at all costs. That would be a challenge, but not impossible.
It had grown too late for her to take a proper tour of the house, but Cook had painted a very grim picture as they had wandered around the ground floor. The gardens were decidedly unkempt and the pastures were long empty. All the tenants were now gone—largely because her brother had neglected the upkeep of their cottages and had then doubled their rents as a way to get more money.
George had also sold most of their valuable antiques, one by one, in a desperate attempt to keep the wolves from the door. However, any money he had raised had not been invested in the house but used to pay off his ever-rising gambling debts. Hannah had Jameson to thank for that. Now all that was left was a hotchpotch of old and dilapidated furniture that was barely fit for purpose and the shell of a once great house in bad need of some care.
The situation was dire. The way George had neglected the house was criminal and, had he still been alive, Hannah would have given him a piece of her mind—not that he would have listened.
Nobody apart from Cook and those few scattered maids and footmen had lived in the house since George’s death, so the decline had continued unabated. A sad fact that was hardly their fault. None of them had known what was going to happen. Everybody had assumed that the house would be sold by its new owner, and the servants had received no clear direction. Then, out of the blue, Jameson had turned up a month ago and declared that he intended to live in it after all. Since then, as Cook had acknowledged, there had been some improvement.
He had already procured labourers to fix the leaking roof, and hired a head gardener and a gamekeeper who were both due to start work within the week to fix the grounds. The fact that he had also employed her as his housekeeper suggested that he meant business.
Her biggest concern was how she would react around him without giving herself away. How, exactly, did one conceal so much hatred and disgust? When she had first met him she had wanted to slap his face. She still did. Her brother had always admonished her for her sharp words and forthright opinions. Now she was to all intents and purposes a servant, so she would have to watch her wayward tongue with Jameson or risk the sack.
With any luck they would have little to do with one another. Masters tended to stay well away from the help unless absolutely necessary. Surely she could manage under those circumstances? Especially as she was certain that it would not take long to find conclusive evidence of his crimes and take her rightful place as mistress of the house.
* * *
Ross tried to get some much-needed blood into his long legs by stretching them. This was no easy feat in the confines of the carriage, with Reggie taking up most of the space.
‘How much longer?’ the big man asked, without taking his eyes off the scenery rushing by. Poor Reggie was sometimes like a child, with the attention span of a puppy. He had asked the same question at least twenty times already and the journey from London was less than an hour.
‘We should be there in a few minutes, Reggie,’ he said, smiling. ‘When was the last time you visited the countryside?’
The big man screwed up his face as he gave the question some thought. ‘I can’t say I remember—but I’m sure that I have been.’
That sentence, in a nutshell, summed Reggie up. His memory was shot—thanks to far too many years in the boxing ring—so sometimes he recalled things and sometimes he didn’t.
‘Will there be food when we get there? I’m starving, Ross.’
Reggie’s entire life revolved around food, and he could get quite unreasonable when there wasn’t any, so Ross nodded. This appeared to placate the big man, who continued to watch the road as if his life depended on it. One of Ross’s first jobs upon arrival, he knew, would be to make sure that Reggie knew exactly where everything was and how far he could wander.
Aside from the fact that the sight of him would probably scare the locals, Reggie panicked when he was lost or confused, and when he panicked he could be difficult to handle. Ross would also have to make sure that the rest of his motley crew of staff were made aware of Reggie’s particular needs and peculiarities. He didn’t particularly want any of them to be frightened either.
Just thinking about the prospect of having staff made him smile. Apart from Reggie, he had never had a servant before—and Reggie hardly counted as one of those. Ross gave him things to do because it made him happy to do them. In reality, he was far too clumsy to do more than fetch and carry effectively, and Ross was used to doing things for himself anyway.
But now he had a gamekeeper, a gardener, a rotund and jolly cook and a sour-faced housekeeper. In truth, he was not entirely convinced that the housekeeper would turn up. She had certainly not appeared to be particularly enamoured of him. He had only given the frog-eyed woman the job because she had shown a modicum of kindness to Reggie. He had a sneaking suspicion that even if she did turn up he and she would part company quite quickly.
‘I can see a house!’ exclaimed Reggie.
‘That has to be Barchester Hall, then—we should arrive any minute now.’
Ross could not quite contain his own excitement. He was going to live in a proper house for the first time in his life, and as soon as it was in a fit state he would bring his mother and sister to live there with him. He had not told them about it yet. He was looking forward to seeing the looks on their faces when they entered such a grand house.
He owed them the security and safety of a proper home, where he would be able to keep a watchful eye on them. They had not lived together as a family in years. Ross had always taken care of them, but his business had demanded his full attention and he had neglected to find them all a home until he had accidentally found himself in possession of one. Even then he had not considered actually living in it, and still would not have unless his sister had declared an interest in leaving the quaint and quiet village he had moved them to in order to spend the season in London. And his mother was happy for that to happen. He still could not believe that.
After everything that had happened—all the years when they had both done their best to keep Sarah safe—his mother was now willingly going to let her loose in London again. The place was still filled with crooks, thieves and wealthy perverts who preyed on the vulnerable. His sister was a young woman, and despite her belief that she was all grown up she would need his protection now more than ever if she was to get through the season unscathed.
She was such a pretty thing. She always had been. He would never forgive himself if she was placed in danger again. The very thought made him feel sick to his stomach.
Therefore Barchester Hall was the perfect compromise. It was close enough to London for them to visit the place freely, but far enough away to keep his family out of harm’s way. If everything went as Ross hoped it would he would finally be able to wave goodbye to the necessity of being in the city for every waking hour, and to the guilt he felt at not being around for his family to oversee their safety personally. Now there would be no more excuses. He could keep a very close eye on his sister or—more importantly—on anybody who came near her.
* * *
Hannah saw the shiny black carriage approach and assembled the small staff on the poorly maintained gravel drive, ready to meet their new master. As it came closer into view she saw his huge bodyguard, Reggie. He was smiling, with his face pressed up against the window. Two of the maids sniggered at the sight and she shot them a pointed look before the carriage came to a stop. Regardless of the peculiarity of the situation, they had no right to be so rude. Both girls coloured under her stern glare and looked down at their feet, and Hannah made a mental note to speak to them both later. Discipline had clearly been in short supply for far too long.
Reggie had the carriage door open before the tiger could get to it, and bounded out onto the drive and stared up at the house in awe.
‘Blimey, it’s big!’ he exclaimed