Caitlin wasn’t sure “exciting” was the word she would have used. Challenging, confronting—potentially disastrous—seemed much nearer the mark.
They’d assumed Gregory Cynster wouldn’t stay long—that he’d look over the estate, comprehend its value, and leave them to it and go. She was starting to believe that the sooner he reached the “go” stage, the better it would be for everyone at the Hall, most definitely including her.
That’s what I need to do. Give him all the information and then, if necessary, actively encourage him to leave.
With her armor donned, she straightened her spine, raised her head, and with a nod to Mary, swept out to do battle.
Gregory descended the stairs as the house’s clocks struck for six o’clock.
While he’d changed his clothes and brushed his hair, by the simple expedient of paying attention to all that reached his ears, he’d confirmed there were several others occupying various chambers in the gargantuan house.
He’d tasked Snibbs with learning all he could via the servants’ hall, but suspected that over the next hours, he would be meeting those who resided in the house.
Descending the last flight, he saw a gloriously feminine figure clothed in violet silk hovering just beyond the stairs. Caitlin Fergusson was an undeniably attractive woman…lady.
There was that oddity, again.
Her shoulders rose white and smooth above the gown’s modest neckline, and she’d redone her hair. Previously restrained in a severe bun at her nape, the lustrous black tresses had been pulled into a knot on the top of her head, with curls and tendrils artfully hanging about her ears, some long enough to caress her slender throat.
She heard his footsteps and looked up, and inside him, something distinctly primitive stirred.
Ruthlessly reining in his impossible-to-deny interest, he inclined his head and continued down, joining her on the hall tiles.
She gestured to the open doorway behind her. “Before we go into the drawing room, I wanted to mention the Bellamy Hall Fund.”
Her gown was of excellent quality, the material expensive and the cut flattering, and if the style was no longer the height of fashion, the gown nevertheless showcased her lush breasts and tiny waist—
“I wondered if you were aware of it.”
Her sharply pointed tone struck through the fog of incipient lust. He raised his gaze to her face while his brain replayed her words… He frowned and met her gaze. “No. I haven’t heard of any such a thing. What is it?”
She nodded as if she’d expected that. “It’s a fund originally set up by the late Lady Bellamy and continued under Timms. The Fund receives regular payments from each of the various enterprises based on the Hall estate. Each business contributes a percentage of their profits, on a sliding scale from fifty to seventy percent, depending on each business’s circumstances. As most of the businesses are successful and mature, the majority are paying seventy percent.”
She turned toward the drawing room. “In return, the Fund pays for everything connected to the upkeep of the Hall—the staff’s wages plus all repairs, not just to the Hall but to every building on the estate. Of course, most food is estate grown, but whatever is bought is paid for out of the Fund.”
She glided forward. Mentally reeling, he fell in beside her as she continued, “The Fund also occasionally loans capital to individual businesses to enable larger outlays, such as buying machinery or equipment necessary or desirable to enable the business to prosper or grow.”
Halting in the doorway, she arched a brow at him, patently expecting a question or comment.
He was still mentally scrambling.Why did the Hall’s solicitor not mention this?“That’s…astonishing,” he managed.
She didn’t look impressed. “The Fund has worked well for over a decade, partly because, through it, everyone here is invested in the well-being of the estate as a whole.”
He could see how that would work. The fact went some way toward explaining what he’d encountered of people and enterprises thus far.
But what about the monies left for the estate’s upkeep?
Before his death, Sir Humphrey Bellamy had set aside a significant sum that had been wisely invested and, to this day, produced considerable income. That had been the source of Minnie’s wealth; there had never been any shortage of funds at the Hall.
Those monies had passed to Timms and, subsequently, to Gregory. He’d assumed that, over the years, the capital would have eroded, courtesy of the depredations from maintaining the massive house and sizeable estate in good order, but…possibly not. He would have to check with the estate’s solicitor.
She started forward again, and side by side, they walked into the drawing room.
He managed not to blink at the size of the gathering. Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies were gathered in small groups, some sipping sherry and everyone amiably chatting; the scene wouldn’t have looked out of place in a tonnish London house.
Everyone turned to regard him. He nodded to those he’d met earlier, and with easy smiles, they nodded back. While most returned to their conversations, two older men he hadn’t met previously came forward.
Miss Fergusson halted and, as the men joined them, said, “Mr. Cynster, allow me to present Mr. Vernon Trowbridge and Mr. Percy Hillside.”
