As before, Harris seated himself without being invited to. His breeches were even tighter, his waistcoat more garishly embroidered, and even from the bed, Nash could smell the man’s scented pomade.
Maddy placed a pot of tea and some cups and saucers on the table. “Did you inform Mr. Renfrew or his brother, the earl, that Sir Jasper promised me we could stay here, in exchange for honey, until John turns twenty-one?” Her tone was mild, conversational.
“I told you, no record of that promise exists in the estate records.” He leaned back, balanced on two legs of the chair, looking smug and totally in command.
Nash prayed for the chair to break.
Maddy said pleasantly, “I didn’t ask if you’d found evidence of the promise, I asked whether you told Mr. Renfrew or his brother about it.”
“Of course I didn’t.” Harris picked his nails in a show of supreme indifference. “The Honorable Mr. Renfrew has better things to do than worry about a claim that can’t be proven. And he made it very clear that he wants you out of this cottage at once.”
The devil he did, Nash thought. To his best recollection he’d never exchanged a word with this fellow. All immediate estate questions had been referred to Marcus.
Then again his memory hadn’t been the most reliable lately. But it didn’t make sense to be making decisions about an estate when he’d never inspected it. Neither he nor Marcus would do such a thing. Their father had drilled them both in the principles of estate management.
And to throw a woman and children out of their home? He didn’t need a memory to tell him he’d never do such a thing, and nor would Marcus, so what the devil was Harris up to?
Maddy said, “I thought that might be the case, which is why I wrote to Lord Alverleigh himself and explained the whole situation. Tea?” She picked up the teapot and gave him a bright, false smile.
With a scowl, Harris pushed the cup aside. “Not for me.” He glanced around the room. “So where’s the letter? I’ll forward it for you.”
Maddy poured herself a tea, added a little honey, and stirred it thoroughly before answering. “Oh, I posted it myself. Rev. Matheson had a copy of Debrett’sPeerage, you know, the book that lists all the peers of the kingdom and—”
“I know what Debrett’s is.”
“Such an interesting volume, is it not? And so I found the address of the Earl of Alverleigh and sent the letter off myself.”
Harris glared at her. Maddy sipped her tea, apparently oblivious of his annoyance.
He grunted. “Well, I’m not here to talk about letters. I’m here to collect the rent. Five pounds now, and no excuses.”
“Of course.” She fetched the tin.
Harris blinked in surprise. “You’ve got five pounds?”
“Not exactly.” She struggled with the lid of the tin, which appeared stuck. “I still say it’s an exorbitant rent and I intend to take it up with Mr. Renfrew when he gets here—”
“I’m warning you—”
She placed the ten pound banknote on the table between them. “I assume you can give me change?”
Harris stared at the banknote in disbelief, then picked it up and examined it carefully. He went to put it in his pocket but she twitched it nimbly from his fingers. “My change first, if you please,” she said in a firm but pleasant voice.
Grudgingly Harris fished in his coat pocket and pulled out a fistful of change. “Where the hell did the likes of you get a sum like this?” he growled as he picked through the coins.
Her brows rose and she said crisply, “Where I got it is not your concern, Mr. Harris. All that should interest you is that I can pay.”
With a bad grace, he tossed onto the table two sovereigns, three half sovereigns, a crown, six half crowns, and five florins. As Maddy counted up the coins, Harris reached for the ten-pound note.
In an instant, she slid it back across the table. “The receipt first, if you would be so good?” She stacked up the five pounds in coins he’d given her beside it.
“Receipt?” His face reddened. “Receipt?”
She kept her tone mild. “I believe it’s standard business practice.”
“Standard business practice!” He snorted. “What would you know of standard business practice? Or did Sir Jasper issue a receipt each time he dipped his wick in your honey pot?”
There was a sudden silence, then a loud slap echoed through the cottage.
