“I am a noncommissioned officer.”
“That makes no sense.” Appertan shook his head. “I would never want to make things so hard on myself.”
No one answered that, and Michael guessed that Appertan made certain nothing was very difficult in his life. How could one not relish a good challenge? That thought momentarily changed the direction of his thoughts, and his gaze slid to his wife. Nowshewas a challenge.
After several minutes of silence while they continued to eat, Michael said to Appertan, “From what I could see of the grounds during the storm, they look well cared for. Your father would be pleased that you’ve continued his excellent management.”
He shrugged, lounging in his chair. “The servants know their duties. Whatever else comes up, Cecilia is perfectly capable of handling it. It’s not that difficult.”
Michael saw Lady Blackthorne inhale and briefly close her eyes, as if she was embarrassed that Appertan proved his own ignorance. Michael was more and more disturbed every time the young man opened his mouth. He kept remembering the pride with which the late Lord Appertan talked of his son—did he know Oliver at all? Sadness and frustration warred with each other in Michael’s mind, and he knew how disappointed his commander would be, how conflicted Lady Blackthorne must feel, torn between the gentle pursuits of a lady, and the practical concerns of her family estate. He’d begun to think she was a woman too used to controlling everyone around her—even himself—but now he wasn’t so certain.
“You must have an excellent steward yourself, Lord Blackthorne,” his wife said, “considering that you’re hardly ever home. Wait—now I remember that you wrote about your brother handling such duties.”
He couldn’t help the way his gaze swept over her. He was feeling possessive, and defensive on her behalf. “We keep in regular contact. But it is nowhere near the size of the earldom.”
Suddenly, he wondered if other people saw him in the same light as Appertan, both of them peers who allowed others to take control. Much as he knew their situations were vastly different, it bothered him, made him wish there was something he could do to help Appertan see the error of his ways.
“No wonder you agreed to this marriage,” Appertan said.
Michael felt the slur, saw Lady Blackthorne give a start and look away with embarrassment.
Michael regarded him impassively. “I did not accept your sister’s dowry, nor do I have access to her funds. You can be certain I will not abuse her finances.”
Appertan’s contempt seemed to fade into puzzlement, then he shrugged again and started a conversation with Miss Webster about a party they would be attending. Lady Blackthorne finished eating, keeping her eyes on her plate.
At last, Appertan rose and tossed his napkin down. “I’m off to Enfield for the evening.”
Michael was relieved his new brother-in-law didn’t ask him to accompany him. Michael might have to call him on his behavior, not a way to win the young man over.
Miss Webster smiled at her fiancé. “I’m sure Papa has already sent the carriage for me.” She looked back at Lady Blackthorne, and said, “But if you’d like me to stay ...”
His wife smiled. “You mustn’t keep your parents waiting, my dear. Have a good evening.”
When Miss Webster and Appertan had gone, Michael sat back down.
Lady Blackthorne, hands on her armrests as if she meant to rise, paused to ask, “Is there something you wish to discuss, my lord?”
“I have no business asking personal questions of Lord Appertan, but I have some for you if you would humor me.”
She dismissed the footmen, and they closed the doors as they departed, leaving the two of them alone again. She carefully drew her gloves back on. Did she wear them all the time, or did she choose this moment to bow to propriety?
After folding her hands in her lap, she spoke calmly. “I’ll answer what I can.”
“You married me for access to your funds, but from what I’ve been able to see, you aren’t in London enjoying your freedom.”
“I’m grateful for the favor you did me, and I’m using my financial freedom as I see fit.”
“Taking care of your brother and his estate,” he pointed out.
Her shoulders were stiff with tension, and he guessed she wanted to tell him to go to hell—in a ladylike manner, of course.
“My brother is very young, only twenty years of age. He inherited the title at eighteen, while all of his friends were—and still are—enjoying their youth. He needs to experience the same, just like any other young man.”
“So does his steward report to him?”
“He reports to me.”
“And the lawyers and bankers for such a vast estate?”
