suppose.”
“And how old were you?”
“Sixteen?”
“What was the lie?”
“I really don’t recollect.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I need a bath and a nap. I’ll meet with you later. You can tell me about all the minor catastrophes that occurred while I was away and all the wonderful repairs you’ve implemented that will prove you’re stupendous.”
“You can’t go up to your room, Miles.”
“Why can’t I?” he sullenly pouted.
“Because Mr. Drummond has seized it for himself.”
“He what?”
“He’s moved in, and he’s moved you out.”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
“He has.”
“The man is mad as a hatter.”
“He says he foreclosed and Kirkwood is his now.”
Miles looked thunderous. He leaned forward and hissed, “He said that and you allowed him to stay on in my house?”
“We didn’t know what to do, Miles. We had no idea where you were, and he simply barged in and took over.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Why didn’t you stop him? It appears to me you’ve been sitting here, twiddling your thumbs and letting him gambol as he pleases.”
“Your mother and I—”
“My bloody mother can screw off!” he shouted. “I’m asking what you did to stop him.”
“I didn’t do anything, Miles. I couldn’t figure out how.”
“He’s a liar! He strutted in with his tall tales about Kirkwood, and you accepted him at his word! What is wrong with you?”
“Like I said, I didn’t know how to stop him.”
“Well, I will stop him, and after I’ve run him off, I’ll deal with you next.”
He stormed out, and for the slightest instant, she thought about jumping up and rushing after him. She thought about explaining what Mr. Drummond was like, how tough and commanding and dangerous he seemed. She thought about mentioning the cadre of clerks and guards he’d brought, how Miles couldn’t counter that virtual army.
But then she remembered how Miles had shouted at her, how he’d blamed her for what had happened. For once, she remained right where she was and kept her mouth shut.
Miles marched up the stairs, headed for his bedchamber. He was exhausted, hung over, and eager to fall into bed and sleep for a week. He was also furious that Georgina had accosted him with her nonsense.
He humored her by permitting her to manage the estate, and he’d be the first to admit she did a good job. She cared about the property and the people on it as he never could, but she’d overstepped her bounds.
Damian Drummond had returned? Georgina and his mother had let the little rat slither in and make himself at home? There would have to be consequences—after he’d chased the wretched boy away of course. The irksome child had an incredible amount of gall to show his face at Kirkwood.
When Miles and his father had initially sent old Walter Drummond scurrying away, Edward had often worried that the sorry pair might stagger back. But Miles had always assured his father that they wouldn’t. Walter had been an underling, a servant. He’d understood his lowly place in the world, had understood that his grandson had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
No one betrayed Miles and emerged unscathed.
He wondered what Damian could want. He was likely beggared, and Miles smirked. He would probably plead for money, which was a supplication Miles would be humored to hear, pretend to consider, then deny in the cruelest manner possible.
As he stomped down the hall to the end, he noted that the doors to his grand suite were open. There were armed men loitering who seemed to be guards.
He stumbled to a halt and frowned. Guards outside his bedchamber? Was he to be intimidated? By a former servant’s whelp? A former servant who’d been fired for insubordination? The notion didn’t bear contemplating.
He straightened and assumed his most regal, most haughty expression, then he approached as if he had every right to enter. Yet even though he was being particularly
“And how old were you?”
“Sixteen?”
“What was the lie?”
“I really don’t recollect.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I need a bath and a nap. I’ll meet with you later. You can tell me about all the minor catastrophes that occurred while I was away and all the wonderful repairs you’ve implemented that will prove you’re stupendous.”
“You can’t go up to your room, Miles.”
“Why can’t I?” he sullenly pouted.
“Because Mr. Drummond has seized it for himself.”
“He what?”
“He’s moved in, and he’s moved you out.”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
“He has.”
“The man is mad as a hatter.”
“He says he foreclosed and Kirkwood is his now.”
Miles looked thunderous. He leaned forward and hissed, “He said that and you allowed him to stay on in my house?”
“We didn’t know what to do, Miles. We had no idea where you were, and he simply barged in and took over.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Why didn’t you stop him? It appears to me you’ve been sitting here, twiddling your thumbs and letting him gambol as he pleases.”
“Your mother and I—”
“My bloody mother can screw off!” he shouted. “I’m asking what you did to stop him.”
“I didn’t do anything, Miles. I couldn’t figure out how.”
“He’s a liar! He strutted in with his tall tales about Kirkwood, and you accepted him at his word! What is wrong with you?”
“Like I said, I didn’t know how to stop him.”
“Well, I will stop him, and after I’ve run him off, I’ll deal with you next.”
He stormed out, and for the slightest instant, she thought about jumping up and rushing after him. She thought about explaining what Mr. Drummond was like, how tough and commanding and dangerous he seemed. She thought about mentioning the cadre of clerks and guards he’d brought, how Miles couldn’t counter that virtual army.
But then she remembered how Miles had shouted at her, how he’d blamed her for what had happened. For once, she remained right where she was and kept her mouth shut.
Miles marched up the stairs, headed for his bedchamber. He was exhausted, hung over, and eager to fall into bed and sleep for a week. He was also furious that Georgina had accosted him with her nonsense.
He humored her by permitting her to manage the estate, and he’d be the first to admit she did a good job. She cared about the property and the people on it as he never could, but she’d overstepped her bounds.
Damian Drummond had returned? Georgina and his mother had let the little rat slither in and make himself at home? There would have to be consequences—after he’d chased the wretched boy away of course. The irksome child had an incredible amount of gall to show his face at Kirkwood.
When Miles and his father had initially sent old Walter Drummond scurrying away, Edward had often worried that the sorry pair might stagger back. But Miles had always assured his father that they wouldn’t. Walter had been an underling, a servant. He’d understood his lowly place in the world, had understood that his grandson had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
No one betrayed Miles and emerged unscathed.
He wondered what Damian could want. He was likely beggared, and Miles smirked. He would probably plead for money, which was a supplication Miles would be humored to hear, pretend to consider, then deny in the cruelest manner possible.
As he stomped down the hall to the end, he noted that the doors to his grand suite were open. There were armed men loitering who seemed to be guards.
He stumbled to a halt and frowned. Guards outside his bedchamber? Was he to be intimidated? By a former servant’s whelp? A former servant who’d been fired for insubordination? The notion didn’t bear contemplating.
He straightened and assumed his most regal, most haughty expression, then he approached as if he had every right to enter. Yet even though he was being particularly
Similar Books
