CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

Giff awoke to rain the next day, but it didn't matter. He would finally be able to have Lady Alice to himself this afternoon. His only problem was that he had nothing to do for the rest of the day. Perhaps he could find a book or visit a shop.

"Me lord, I laid out your kit," his valet said. "Cook agreed to make you breakfast. I'll fetch it when you're dressed."

"Thank you, Gunn." Had Mama given the order to Cook? Giff rose and completed his ablutions and just finished dressing when a knock came on the door.

His valet answered it and turned around with a tray of food and set it on the table. The scent of bacon filled the room. What else did he have? He lifted the lid. Eggs, porridge, bacon, and toast. The pot of tea had been set to the side. Next to it was a letter. Giff picked it up and opened it.

Dear Lord St. Albans,

The documents are ready to be signed. I will await your pleasure.

Yr. servant,

C. Throckmorton

"Have the town coach brought around in about forty-five minutes." Giff dug into his meal.

Gunn cleared his throat. "If yer going to take the coach, you'd best be right back. His grace has need of it later this morning. It's stoating out there. If ye want to wait, the weather will clear by the afternoon."

It might be prudent to buy his own coach now that he had the funds to do it. "Thank you for telling me, but I must go immediately."

"That's what I'm here for, me lord." His valet disappeared into the dressing room.

Giff arrived in the hall just as the coach was being brought around. His father's butler handed him an umbrella and opened the door. It was coming down hard. He sprinted to the carriage where a footman wearing an oiled coat and hat waited to open the door. Fortunately, the coach had a cover over the coachman's seat. Even the horses had oil skin covers.

The traffic was heavy as they made their way into the City. He'd have to sign the documents and go directly back home. The footman had taken the umbrella and held it out as he opened the door. "We'll wait here, my lord."

"Thank you, Peters, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord." Giff nodded and went inside.

The solicitor had anticipated his arrival. He bowed. "The documents are waiting, my lord."

"How long will this take?" Giff strode into the same room as before. "I must return soon."

"Signing them will not take long at all." Throckmorton handed Giff a pen. "However, the estate books for the past year have been sent as well along with the steward, Mr. William Kennedy." So much for not mentioning his inheritance to his father. The steward would expect to stay at the house. "He was instructed to stay at a hotel while he is here."

Giff let out a breath. "Please tell him to attend me in about two hours."

"As you wish, my lord." The solicitor signaled to one of the clerks, and the man donned a coat and departed. "I do not wish to appear forward, but do you have much experience with estate books?"

He leaned back in the chair. Giff didn't want to appear ignorant, but he was, and it wouldn't help him to pretend otherwise. "I do not."

"We have a young gentleman whose father sent him to us for legal training in preparation for him to take over his family's estate. His father is a client of ours, but lives in a remote area, and it is not always possible to quickly seek legal advice." Throckmorton studied Giff as if to assess his interest. "The gentleman, Mr. Quinney, does have significant experience running his father's estate. If you would like, he can attend your meeting with Mr. Kennedy." Throckmorton paused for a moment. "It is not that we do not trust Mr. Kennedy, but we are acting on behalf of the solicitor in Inverness who represented your late uncle's estate, and we do not know him."

The one thing Giff did not want was to appear ignorant in front of the steward. Having someone there who knew what he was doing might be helpful. At any rate, it couldn't hurt. "Yes please. I would appreciate Mr. Quinney's advice."

The solicitor seemed relieved. "Very good, my lord. I will ask him to arrive before Mr. Kennedy."

"About an hour earlier I would think. He can tell me what to expect, and I can ask him any questions I might have." Giff went back to the documents and finished signing them. "Here you are. I will expect to see Mr. Quinney in an hour." As he was a gentleman, no one would think twice about him visiting Giff.

Throckmorton picked up the documents. "The funds you requested will be in the bank by tomorrow."

Giff inclined his head. "Thank you."

It was still raining cats and dogs. He almost dashed to the coach, but not only would his valet be annoyed to have to deal with a wet jacket and boots, but his father would wonder why the seat was wet. Peters ran over to Giff and held the umbrella while he climbed into the coach. They arrived at Cleveland House none too soon. He'd just made the first landing of the staircase when he heard his father stride into the hall. He'd need to decide how long he wanted to keep his father unaware of his inheritance. But right now, he was having fun acting on his own. There was no doubt at all that Papa would try to take over once he found out, and that was something Giff could not allow. Everything had to be settled before then. He informed Gunn that he was expecting a friend.

The next several hours passed quickly. Young Mr. Quinney turned out to be only a year or two younger than Giff. The family was from Northumberland. By the time Kennedy arrived Quinney had given Giff an overview of how farming and animal husbandry worked. Kennedy arrived with his son, and Giff learned that the family had served as stewards for the Dewars for several generations. As they poured over the books, Giff was thankful for Quinney's earlier lesson.

Yet another book was set before him, and he began to read. "My uncle has a still?"

"No' just a still." William Kennedy shook his head slowly. "It's a legal venture. We make"—the man fixed Giff with a look—"ye make some of the finest whisky in the land. How much time do ye plan to spend at Dewar Hall?"

More than Giff originally thought he would. "As much time as I need to. I will also be responsible for an estate a few hours north of London that I'll receive when I wed. I hope to do that this Season."

"Yer uncle hoped ye'd be convinced to come up and marry some nice Scots girl, but I suppose yer da would have somewhat to say about that?"

Giff did not even want to imagine his father's response to him finding a local Inverness girl to wed. "That would be one way of putting it."

"That's what I told Angus." Kennedy went on to explain how the whisky business worked.

Then the discussion turned to sheep, Cheviot sheep in particular, that were raised for their wool. "Ye understand that the Dewar family did no' turn out their people. They moved some houses, but made it all work to benefit everyone," he said.

Giff had learned of the enclosures and the number of people who'd been made homeless as a result. He'd always felt that was the reason his maternal grandfather insisted he spend time with the family. He would, eventually, be in the Lords and responsible for governing the country. One thing had made him curious. "I would have expected you to stay here. What made you decide to get a hotel room?"

The older man rubbed his chin. "It's not so much a hotel as boarding house. It's run by a Scotswoman. Angus didn't want us bothering yer da."

"I understand." Someday that would change, Giff hoped.

They closed the books and put them in the bags. "What will be the protocol when I am in England?"

Kennedy slung the strap of a bag over his shoulder. "I'll send any correspondence ye need to sign or approve by express. I'd appreciate it if ye got it back as soon as ye can."

Giff nodded. "I'll keep you advised of where I am."

"Thank ye."

His son grabbed the rest of the bags and grinned. "It was a pleasure to meet ye."

"I'm glad to have met you too."

The father donned his hat. "Yer not nearly as ignorant as Angus thought ye'd be."

Before Giff followed the steward and his son out of his parlor, he glanced at Quinney, who grinned. It had been a very good idea to have him here. After the Kennedys left, Giff turned to Quinney. "Do you have any suggestions as to how I can acquire more information about the sheep and the whisky?"

"Other than speaking with other people involved in those businesses, there should be books about them. Hatchards will either have them or can order them for you."

"I'll stop by today. Thank you again for your help."

Quinney smiled. "It was my pleasure. I enjoyed seeing how other properties are run." He pulled a face. "Now back to the law."

Giff barked a laugh. "I take you're glad you didn't decide to be a barrister."

The other man's look changed to one of horror. "God forbid. Give me a horse and land to look after any day, even a cold and rainy one."

What would it have been like to have been able to learn about the estate instead of being left to his own devices? At least he'd never gone into debt or drank to excess. Well once each. That had been more than enough. His stomach growled. Gunn had kept them in sandwiches and tea, but Giff was still hungry. He'd have to eat something before he went to collect Alice. He supposed he should think of her as Lady Alice, but last night after a particularly erotic dream that involved her in his bed, he'd decided she'd be his wife, and he might as well get used to calling her by her name.

Gun brought him more sandwiches, some apples, and a newssheet devoted to the royal family. Now he'd have something to talk about that would interest her. An hour and a half later, he pulled up in front of Worthington House. After hopping down, he threw the ribbons to a groom, and strode the short way to the front door that opened for him.

The butler bowed. "My lord. Lady Alice will be down shortly. Indeed, as he looked up the main staircase, she was descending. She wore a pale green gown embroidered with small flowers, and a spencer that hugged her form. On her head was a medium crowned bonnet decorated with flowers that had a modest brim and a wide ribbon. He was glad he could see her golden curls beneath it. God, she took his breath away. To think he'd be spending the rest of his life with her.

Giff moved to the stairs and held out his hand. "My lady."

Her lips curved into a smile. "My lord."

Alice said a short prayer that Lord St. Albans would be as pleasant as he'd been the day before. He was so handsome it would be a shame if he was not. He escorted her to his glossy black curricle with gold trim and two beautiful, perfectly matched white horses. "They are beautiful! What made you decide to choose white instead of black horses?"

When he lifted her up into the seat, she had trouble breathing. He must be holding her too tightly. "It was by chance. I was going to purchase a pair of blacks, but I couldn't find any that would do. Most of them were purely for show. Then I saw these fellows."

Lord St. Albans went around to the other side and climbed in, took up the ribbons, and started the horses out of the square. "They are certainly a handsome pair."

He flashed her a smile that warmed her. "Did you hear the queen has decided to come to the coronation to be crowned? Word has it the king will not allow it, but she has a great deal of support from the people."

Alice had not heard about it, nor did she care. "I had not."

He appeared pleased and continued in the same vein. They reached the Park and fortunately, there were enough people they had to greet to stop his flow of royal information. He pulled up beside Lady Bellamny's carriage. "My lady." Alice smiled. "I am glad to see you."

Her ladyship gave her a wry look. "I am happy to see you as well, my dear. I trust your family is well."

"They are, thank you."

"St. Albans," her ladyship said. "I approve of your curricle. Shall I see you and the duchess at Lady Markham's ball this evening?"

"Indeed, my lady. We will be there."

"Excellent." Lady Bellamny waved them along, and he moved forward.

By the time they reached the gate, Lord St. Albans had finished with the royal family and started telling Alice about Lord Byron absconding with a young wife of an Italian count. Alice was fairly certain that was not proper conversation for a lady just making her come out. And she could not imagine running off with Lord Byron. The curricle finally came to a stop in front of Worthington House, and she almost jumped down by herself. But Lord St. Albans was there ready to help her. She held out her hand, but he wrapped his hands around her waist instead. Drat. There was that feeling again. The prickling. It must be because she was irritated with the man. And to think she had promised him the supper dance this evening.

Alice gave him a polite smile as he escorted her to the door, then curtseyed. "Thank you for the ride, my lord."

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. Thank goodness for gloves. "The pleasure was all mine."

The door opened, and she forced herself to keep a measured pace into the house. How could Georgie Turley have thought he was amusing? "Are either Eleanor or Madeine here?"

"No, my lady. They have not returned yet. And her ladyship is meeting with Mrs. Thorton."

"Thank you." Alice climbed the stairs to her room, took off her bonnet, and threw herself down on the bed. Between the ride and the dance this evening, this was going to be the longest day of her life.