Her eyes sparked before her lids fell, and she inclined her head and walked toward the steps. Her stiff posture screamed that she didn’t trust their visitor any more than Gregory did.
He returned his attention to Ecton, who was watching Caitlin climb the steps. As she crossed the porch to the front door, Ecton looked at Gregory, and his smile brightened. “As you say, the day’s a fine one. Come—let’s walk while we talk.”
Gregory suspected that Ecton’s unlikely appreciation of bucolic delights had more to do with ensuring there was no possibility of others overhearing them, but consented with a tilt of his head and walked beside Ecton onto the front lawn.
With his gaze on the lawn ahead of them, in genial vein, Ecton commenced, “Now you’ve spent more time in this ramshackle place, in the dubious company of its many and varied inmates, you must be itching to bolt back to the capital and…shall we say, more sophisticated entertainments.”
Gregory was tempted to correct him, but in the interests of getting Ecton to his point in the shortest possible time, let the assumption stand unchallenged.
Ecton glanced up, briefly studied Gregory’s face, then smiled and, with growing confidence, stated, “I’m sure you won’t have forgotten my offer to buy the place—lock, stock, and barrel, as they say. And given you might feel a certain connection to the place, I’m willing to sweeten my offer. Quite considerably, as a matter of fact. I’ve taken a look at the situation, and I believe I can take the plunge to the tune of twenty thousand pounds.”
From what Gregory had gathered of Ecton’s finances, there was little likelihood the man could afford such a sum. He halted. “Ecton—”
“Of course, I would need to stagger the payments, but I’m sure you and I could come to some arrangement—”
“No.” Gregory waited until Ecton halted and his gaze reached Gregory’s face before evenly and very definitely stating, “I have not changed and will not change my mind. The Hall was entrusted to me, and I will remain its owner. I have no intention of selling the estate, either in whole or in part, now or at any time in the foreseeable future.”
Ecton looked mulish, still unwilling to believe, so Gregory rolled on, “It might not suit you, but I like it here. Indeed, I’ve decided to spend the rest of my life here.” He gestured at the gothic monstrosity behind them. “In this ramshackle place with its many and varied and, frankly, interesting and engaging inmates. They are worthy people, and I value their friendship. They don’t just grow on one…” His voice trailed away as he realized the truth, and it found its way to his tongue. “I’ve become one with them. One of them. My place is here, with them.”
What he’d intended as a revelation to Ecton had become, in truth, a revelation to himself as well. Not in substance—he’d gradually been shifting to that position over the past weeks—but in the certainty with which the statement now resonated within him.
All the way to his soul.
His place was there. He’d come to Bellamy Hall hoping to discover the right sort of life for him to live, and he’d found it, living there with Minnie and Timms’s esoteric collection of people. People those two old ladies had reached out to and helped, and who now honored their memories in helping each other and, indeed, all those about.
This was his new life, and he wanted it and intended to hold on to it.
Ecton blinked. Quite aside from Gregory’s words, he’d heard the conviction, the ironclad decision in his tone.
Gregory watched as, slowly, Ecton accepted Gregory’s rejection of his offer and the resolution behind it, and a pronounced degree of grim peevishness overtook Ecton’s until-then-determinedly-pleasant expression.
Ecton’s eyes narrowed to dark shards.
Despite the tension, Gregory had to fight a smile; the man looked every inch the spoilt child Loxton had labeled him. Evenly, Gregory said, “No hard feelings, I hope.”
Ecton drew in a long breath, and his features settled into a frankly grim mask. “I had plans, but if they’re not to be…?” He slanted a glance at Gregory as if imagining that, after all, he might change his mind.
Gregory felt his features harden. “Sorry, old man. I’m happy here.”
That was the simple truth.
Almost curiously, Ecton frowningly studied Gregory’s face, then his gaze flitted to the house. His eyes narrowed again, then he curtly nodded and turned toward his curricle. “In that case, I’ll say no more about it.”
Gregory walked with him to the forecourt and waited at the bottom of the steps as Ecton took the reins from the groom, climbed up to the box, and with the barest of nods to Gregory, flicked the reins and drove his horses—again, too fast—down the drive.
The groom snorted. “An ill-matched pair, that. Nothing like yours, sir.”
“No, indeed.” Gregory watched Ecton tool down the avenue. The same could be said for Ecton’s life. “Nothing like mine at all.”
When Ecton had vanished from sight, Gregory dismissed the groom with an absentminded nod and climbed the front steps.
His inner self didn’t like Ecton at all; there was something about the man that abraded his instincts and left him uneasy in a way he couldn’t immediately explain.
What unsettled him most of all was that he still had no idea why Ecton wanted to buy the Hall.
There had to be a reason, a big and compelling reason, and until he knew what it was, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—rest easy.
Lips firming, he reached for the front door latch. At this point, all he could do was hope that his usually reliable correspondents-cum-informants would write back soon.
