Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman by Julia Justiss Page A

stimulating as he did.
    To his regret, she moved away, leaving his hands bereft. He turned to find Miss Holton staring at them curiously. ‘What would you know about smugglers, Miss Holton?’ he asked.
    To his relief, the query deflected her attention, just as he’d intended. With a tell-tale blush that would doubtless have struck fear in the heart of Lord Bronning, who was alreadyworried about his son’s possible involvement in the trade, she said quickly, ‘Oh, only what anyone hereabouts knows.’
    Miss Neville gave her cousin a sharp look, leading Greville to suspect she’d just been struck by the same disagreeable suspicion. He sent her a sympathetic glance over Miss Holton’s head, chuckling softly when she rolled her eyes heavenwards.
    Thank the Lord he was not responsible for trying to supervise the Holton chit!
    â€˜The remnants of the hill-fort ramparts are this way.’ Miss Holton turned back towards him, offering her hand. Obligingly he tucked it under his arm and let her lead him about the area, duly admiring the bits of stone and mounds of earth that excited her enthusiasm, Miss Neville trailing after them like a long-suffering chaperon.
    Although the idea of the delectable Miss Neville as anyone’s chaperon made his lips tremble with suppressed mirth.
    Their inspection complete, they returned to the gig. ‘What else shall we see on the way to Salters Bay?’ he asked Miss Neville.
    â€˜First we’ll pass the Trimmer, Smith and Mercer farms,’ Miss Neville replied, ‘all planted in grain. More pastures, and the cottages of Mrs Enders and the Hill family, lace-makers. Honiton is the centre of the trade, but the lace is actually made at home by a number of individual craftsmen. Papa assists those who occupy Ashton land, taking their products to Honiton in lieu of rent.’
    â€˜We’re still on Ashton land, then?’ he asked, surprised.
    â€˜Yes. We will be, almost all the way to Salters Bay.’
    â€˜I must say, the estate is vaster than I’d imagined,’ Greville said.
    â€˜It’s the largest landholding in this part of Devon,’ Miss Holton said proudly. ‘Nevilles have been here since the Conquest. The ruins of the original family dwelling, Neville Tour, sit on the cliffs just beyond where our road descends to SaltersBay. With its commanding view from the sea to the mouth of the Exe, it was constructed by the first Baron Bronning, who’d been charged with keeping the King’s peace from Exmouth to Exeter, from Honiton to Lyme Regis.’
    â€˜Vast acreage, grazing of cattle and sheep, fields of grain, tin mines to the north, lace-making to the south…Ashton Grove estate is a most impressive property!’
    â€˜It is indeed,’ Miss Neville replied, giving him a warm glance. ‘It’s a vast amount to handle and make profitable, too, especially these last few years since the war, with the price of corn so depressed. Papa is a very skilled manager.’
    â€˜You are quite knowledgeable as well,’ he said with sincere admiration.
    Miss Neville blushed and Greville suppressed a smile. Apparently she really was unused to compliments, whether about her beauty or her talents. Once again, he found her unexpected humility endearing.
    â€˜I suppose, having ridden about with Papa since I was big enough to hold on to his saddle bow, I’ve learned a few things.’
    â€˜Far more than just a few!’
    After his first two days of observation, Greville had concluded with chagrin that Lord Bronning’s daughter knew far more about estate management than he had learned in nearly two years as titular manager of Blenhem Hill.
    Even more surprising, he was finding himself actually interested in her observations about farming, flocks and fields.
    Travelling about Lord Bronning’s estate had opened his eyes to the truth he had somehow missed all the time he’d been Blenhem Hill’s