What a Reckless Rogue Needs Part 7

"Eventually sounds rather vague."

"I'm a bachelor and intend to live in London until I decide to marry. What difference does it make?"

At least he'd been honest. "Are you set to inherit?"

"It was always understood," he said.

"You a.s.sume it will be yours." He was the sort of man who expected that everything would come easily, because no one had ever made him earn what he wanted. Then again, she could say the same about herself before this past year.

"I'm his only son. There is no one else to inherit. What else am I to think?"

"Perhaps you should turn that statement around. Given your reputation, what was your father supposed to think?"

He glared at her. "You imply I'm unworthy?"

"I did not mean-"

"Of course you did or else you would not have dared to question me."

"You requested my a.s.sistance. I have every right to know the circ.u.mstances before making a decision." If he truly cared about the property, he would have done something about it years ago. No doubt he'd not given a thought to Sommerall until he'd found out his father meant to sell it. Worse, he wasn't likely to occupy the house. It would remain empty, perhaps for years. After all, she'd heard plenty of stories about him.

"If I thought you were sincere, I would offer my a.s.sistance," she said. "But I have trouble believing you really mean to renovate Sommerall. You just don't want to lose it on principle."

His eyes narrowed. "You have missed an important point. The circ.u.mstances are clear. Unless I can prevent it, strangers will possess the land where my mother is buried."

"Colin, I understand-"

"No, you do not. Apparently, I'm the only one who cares."

Her heart beat rapidly. "Colin, I did not mean to insinuate-"

"I apologize for disturbing you. Rest a.s.sured I will not do so again." He made a curt bow and strode past her with fisted hands.

He could storm off for all she cared.

His words rang in her ears. Unless I can prevent it, strangers will possess the land where my mother is buried. She shut her eyes and told herself to keep her distance. She could not afford even the slightest transgression, and getting involved in his concerns could lead to trouble.

She mustn't fall for his emotional appeal. G.o.d help her, she'd done it once before. It had ruined her life and wounded her family. She clutched her sketchbook to her chest as if it were some sort of shield. Why was she even having second thoughts about helping him?

Apparently, I'm the only one who cares.

The truth dawned on her. He'd been embarra.s.sed to ask for her help. Because they had never gotten along, he'd probably figured she would turn him down.

His mother was buried at Sommerall, and so he'd made himself ask, because he had no other choice. She knew more than a little about having few choices.

He thought no one cared.

She turned and ran after him. "Colin, wait!"

He strode onward, but she pumped her legs faster. By the time she caught up to him, she was so winded she could hardly speak. "I-I'm s-sorry."

His nostrils flared. "I do not want your sympathy."

She knew how it felt to be the object of pity. When she finally caught her breath, she said, "Forgive me for my callous response. I do care for your sake. If you still wish it, I will a.s.sist you to the best of my ability."

"Why? You clearly are suspicious of me."

Something hot welled up inside her. She swallowed hard, knowing she'd treated him as if he were the man who had betrayed her. "I beg your pardon. My suspicions were unfounded."

She could feel him looking at her and hoped he would ask no questions, because she still couldn't speak about the events that made her grieve for her former carefree life.

"You are not obliged," he said, his voice rumbling. "No doubt you would prefer to occupy your time with something else."

"Such as tea and embroidery?" she said with a huff.

He clasped his hands behind his back. "I suppose those are things ladies enjoy."

"It's a dead bore if you want to know the truth."

He smiled a little. "Are you certain?"

She met his gaze. "Yes, I'm certain." She would much rather help him than st.i.tch for hours, but that wasn't the main reason. Regardless of what he'd done in the past, he deserved a second chance. G.o.d knew she'd give anything for one, but it was impossible.

He flexed his gloved hands twice. "Thank you."

The gruff tone of his voice said far more than his words.

While he did not return to the ancestral pile often, Colin knew his father's habits well. The marquess adhered to the old adage that the early bird got the worm. Colin usually adhered to the mattress and pillow until the sun rose high in the sky. Nevertheless, he had requested Horace, his valet, to awaken him at the unG.o.dly hour of six o'clock. Horace, being no more of a lark than his employer, grumbled as he shuffled into the room and opened the drapes. "G.o.d's toenails," Horace muttered as sunlight flooded the room.

Colin groaned. "Go away, Horace."

"My lord, you requested that I awaken you for an early meeting."

"You are mistaken," he mumbled as he flopped onto his stomach and pulled a pillow over his head.

"No, my lord. You were quite clear last night that I should not allow you to go back to sleep."

"I rescind my order," Colin muttered into the pillow.

Horace hovered over him. "My lord, you said it was imperative that you meet your father early before church."

It was Sunday, the Lord's day. Colin had forgotten. This was hardly a surprise, given that he had not set foot inside a church since his last visit home for Easter holiday. He knew if he did not catch his father early, he would have to wait until Monday. Colin did not want to delay. He must prove to his father that he was serious and worthy of the property.

Grumbling under his breath, Colin condescended to allow his valet to shave and dress him for the day. Upon reaching his father's study, Colin tapped the door lightly. "May I have a moment of your time?"

The marquess signed a paper and glanced up from his spectacles. "I am not working."

Colin blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It is the Lord's day. Margaret insists that the family rest on Sunday."

"Ah, I see."

"I am officially not working."

"Right. You are resting while sitting. It is a marvel your eyes are open."

The marquess narrowed his eyes. Then he signed a paper and set his pen aside. "Is this a special occasion?"

Colin frowned, wondering if this was a trick question. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are up before noon."

"I am dressed for church." So far, lightning hadn't struck.

The marquess broke the seal on another letter. "What is on your mind, besides Sommerall?"

"I wish to inspect the interior of Sommerall House."

"Have you found a bride?"

His father knew d.a.m.ned well he hadn't, so he ignored that question. "I wish to make an inventory of all needed repairs. Angeline has offered her a.s.sistance since she has experience with renovations and architectural...stuff." His ignorance was appalling. Thank G.o.d Angeline had agreed to help him.

"Well, that is generous on her part," the marquess said, "but I'm not altogether certain what you expect to gain from this expedition."

"I think you know," Colin said.

The marquess folded his hands on the desk. "Enlighten me."

"I wish to demonstrate to you that I'm concerned about the state of the property," he said, "and I am willing to finance the majority of the repairs."

"But you've no idea of the cost," his father said. "What if you do not have sufficient funds?"

"If I find more capital is needed, we can discuss the possibility of a loan."

"We?"

"Only in the event it becomes necessary," Colin said. Desperation made him wild to agree to just about anything, except to marry on a whim.

"You waste my time," the marquess said.

"Father, marriage is a sacred vow. It is not a step that a man should take lightly."

"I'm happy to hear you recognize the significance, but you've made no attempts to find a wife."

He gritted his teeth. "I will apply myself to the business of choosing a bride next spring during the London season."

"I'm not inclined to listen to promises you may or may not keep. The answer remains no."

He forced himself to stay calm. "I am more than willing to wait to occupy Sommerall until I wed, but meanwhile, I wish to see what needs to be done. Surely you cannot object."

"As a matter of fact, I can and I will," the marquess said.

"Give me three months to find a bride," Colin said. It galled him to think of having to make such an important decision so quickly-a lifetime one at that-but he couldn't let Sommerall pa.s.s out of his hands.

The marquess drummed his fingers on his desk. "Have you requested your stepmother's a.s.sistance to find a bride yet?"

"No, but-"

"You have not made any efforts to abide by my conditions for gaining the property. The answer is an unequivocal no."

Colin would not give up easily. "Very well, I will consult Margaret." How she would find him a bride mystified Colin, but he had to make the effort.

The marquess stared at him, his eyes piercing into Colin's. Colin wanted to shift and look away, but he refused to let his father win.

The clock chimed, and the marquess rose. "It is time for breakfast."

"Father, if you will give me a few more minutes, I will explain my long-term plans."

"I've made myself clear and have no intention of rescinding my decision." The marquess rounded his desk. "Shall we repair to the dining room?"

Colin thought about strangers trampling over his mother's grave, and it made him ill. He had nothing to remember her by except a grave, one that ought to be revered. All these years, he'd taken for granted that the property and his mother's resting place would be there when he was ready to face them. He'd thought he had all the time in the world. Now he was in danger of losing what little he had of his mother.

His hands fisted. There were things he needed to know, things that no one had ever spoken about since his mother's death. He would not give up, no matter what, because she deserved more than to be forgotten. She deserved to be remembered.

Colin made a point of walking alongside Angeline to church. His father had suggested they walk since the weather was clear. Colin slowed his pace so that he could speak to Angeline privately. "You will no doubt be delighted to know that my father refused," he said.

Angeline glanced at him. "Why?"

"The same reason," he said.

"Do not give up," she said. "We will think of some way to change his mind."

He wagged his brows. "You don't happen to know any respectable single lady friends who might wish to wed me?"

She'd not heard from any of her friends since her broken engagement, but she would not tell him that. "Do you think I would recommend a friend marry a notorious rake like you?"

"Perhaps I could reform."

She snorted.

Once they reached the church, both families filled the pews in the front, designated for the marquess, his family, and his ill.u.s.trious friends. Colin would have preferred sitting in the last row of pews where he could close his eyes and nap through the sermon. Alas, he was out of luck and found himself jerking to attention after Angeline thrust her elbow into his side.

He leaned closer to her and whispered, "I will exact revenge."

"You may try." She regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I would not advise it if you wish me to a.s.sist you."

Why was his only hope of help coming from the shrew?