Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Because we were,” Polk said.
“And the reason the two of you aren’t on the hunt today?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a stomach for the hunt,” Jonathan said.
Thomas tilted his head once more. That may be true for Jonathan. Thomas didn’t actually know. But Polk loved a good hunt.
“And you, Polk? I’ve seen you bag many a stag, often the best of the hunt.”
Polk did not meet Thomas’s gaze. “Just wasn’t in the mood today, I suppose. So I’ve been getting to know your cousin. He’s a great bloke, I have to say.”
Thomas still did not smile. Something didn’t make sense to him about all of this, but he didn’t have any more time to dwell on it. “Good enough,” he said. “Please excuse me. I’d be on the hunt myself today if I didn’t have so much business to attend to.”
“We shan’t keep you,” Polk said. “Jameson and I will be going back to the bachelor house for a smoke if you’d like to join us later.”
“I’ll probably join my mother for the luncheon.”
“The ladies’ luncheon?” Polk raised his eyebrows in a suggestive matter.
“Why not?” Thomas said. “What better way to get a good look at all the ladies of the season?”
“You seemed to dance with every one of them last night,” Polk said. “You rarely left the dance floor”—he furrowed his brow—“except when you went missing for a half hour or so.”
Ah, yes. The half hour where he found Tricia on the fourth floor and saved her from nearly falling from the parapet.
“There were a few I didn’t get to meet,” Thomas said.
“Do you think you’ll choose a wife this season?” his cousin asked.
Thomas looked away from Jonathan. “I honestly haven’t had the time to think about any of that. But I shall do my duty when the time comes.”
“You’ve got to get an heir in her, whoever she may turn out to be,” Jonathan said.
Thomas sighed. “Why in the world is everyone so concerned about my heir?”
“You’re a first son,” Polk reminded him. “Not only that, you’re an only son. If you don’t produce an heir, well…”
Jonathan looked at the hardwood floor.
Of course, he knew what would happen if Thomas didn’t produce an heir.
It probably was not something he’d given much thought to. Having been in the Americas for so long, Jonathan was woefully unprepared to take up the earldom.
“I shall do my duty when the time is right,” Thomas echoed. “Now, if the two of you would excuse me.”
They both nodded to him and walked the opposite way while Thomas continued to the large oak door that led to his study.
He pulled out his key, absently touched the doorknob, and—
He gasped quietly.
To his surprise, the door was unlocked.
Had he neglected to lock it yesterday when he finished his tasks?
That was not like him, but he hadn’t been in his right head lately. Of course, no one here at the estate would dare enter this suite uninvited.
No need to worry, but he did need to keep his faculties. His year of mourning was over, and the time had come to truly take his father’s place.
He walked into the study and took a moment to look out the window at the beauty of his estate. On the far lawn, the ladies were gathered. He tried to catch a glimpse of Tricia, but he didn’t see her.
He walked into his study and regarded the large mahogany desk, the blotter that sat upon it, the myriad bottles of ink, and the quills.
His ledger, his accounting books, and then of course the shelf filled with books on the management of the estate.
A new pile of bills sat on his desk, placed there no doubt by his secretary, Mr. Pendleton. Mr. Pendleton’s office was actually in London, but here on the estate, he had a small desk inside Thomas’s office.
But he had taken the day off today, as Thomas allowed him to join in the hunt. Pendleton was a fine hunter and enjoyed such things, and quite frankly, Thomas needed to be alone in his office to get his head where it needed to be.
With a heavy sigh, Thomas turned away from the window and approached his desk. The first bill on the stack was from the local florist for the countless roses, peonies, and ivy garlands that had transformed the ballroom last night. The sum made his eyebrows rise momentarily before he penned a swift approval for payment.
Next, he reviewed the account from the butcher. The feast had demanded an extraordinary quantity of fine cuts—venison, pheasant, and beef, all sourced from the finest purveyors. That expense, though substantial, was justified.
As he sifted through more invoices—linens from the finest weavers in England, candles that burned with a barely perceptible scent, and imported French wines that had flowed freely—the totals mounted.
The musicians’ tally was next. Each instrumentalist was paid separately, and each received a fee appropriate for his training and talent. The total fee was hefty, but the memories of the laughter and twirling gowns of the past evening’s festivities assured Thomas it was money well spent.