would suit him, especially when it promised passionate nights of mutual satisfaction. He couldn’t embrace the married state with the enthusiasm Rob demonstrated, but he’d be an attentive and faithful husband to Miss Roxanne Courland until death did them part, whether she liked it or not!
Roxanne had gone to bed very late after packing the first of her belongings and got up early to begin the task of despatching them to Mulberry House and starting on the rest. She supposed she should be grateful to Sir Charles for provoking her into moving house so quickly, for if she’d been left to linger over each old letter and beloved childhood book it might have taken weeks, if not months. As it was, she’d set herself a mere day of frantic activity to remove all she held most dear, and already the farm dray was setting off, laden with a quantity of trunks and boxes of books that astonished her. Her lips tightened as she contemplated what the arrogant baronet would say about the half-empty shelves in Uncle Granger’s personal library, but she wasn’t having a stranger selling or disregarding what it had taken him a lifetime to collect.
Having seen the lord-of-the-feast side of her great-uncle, she wondered if Charles Afforde knew about Uncle Granger’s quieter interests: his love of fine music and his patronage of poets and artists once thought obscure and outlandish. She must make sure someone packed the fine collection of watercolours from her own room as she shuddered at the thought of coming back to beg for anything left behind. Among them was an exquisite painting of Hollowhurst Castle by Mr Turner that she’d no intention of leaving for the Castle’s new owner. Considering he was rich enough to buy Davy’s heritage, he’d just have to commission one for himself if he wanted one.
Like an automaton that had wound down in mid-dance, she suddenly sank into a chair and let the truth sink in. Hollowhurst and all it meant to her had a new owner, and what had once seemed set in stone was now as fugitive as a house of cards. How could Davy do such a thing? she raged silently. Surely he trusted her to run the estate and keep the castle in good order? And one day his son might feel very different about the impressive heritage he should have had. She felt angry tears threaten the rigid composure she’d imposed on herself since she realised just why Charles Afforde had returned and barely managed to fight them back.
‘It was never meant to be like this, you know.’ Charles Afforde’s deep voice interrupted from the doorway, and she was so startled she looked up with fury and grief naked in her dark gaze.
‘I can’t see how you expected me to feel otherwise,’ she said and tried to freeze her sorrow until later, when he wasn’t by to watch.
‘I expected Davy to prepare you for this, if nothing else,’ he said rather cryptically, and she wondered what on earth he meant.
What other disaster could there be, given her home was now his and her whole world was rocking on its axis? She shivered at the very thought of more unwelcome revelations and dismissed the idea; nothing could be worse than the bombshell he’d already dropped, after all.
‘Well, he didn’t,’ she replied flatly.
Surely the end result was the same? Possession, she decided furiously and once more wished futilely that she’d been born a man. Not that it would have done her any good since Davy was older and the heir, but he might have reconsidered if he’d a brother devoted to the estate he found a burden. Yet a mere woman must stand by and watch the lords of the earth dispossess her of all she held dear, she railed silently.
‘Obviously not, and I suppose the mail boats between here and America are unreliable at this time of year,’ he replied with a hint of impatience at her truism, ‘but I never intended driving you from your home at a moment’s notice, Miss Courland. Take as long as you like over the business, I have time since I left the sea and can spare as long as you need and more.’
‘I’ll be ready today; I always knew I’d have to leave when Davy married. I can’t see how two women could rule the same roost and stay friends.’
‘Such is the unfairness of English law, is it not? The eldest male heir gets the best plums and the others scrabble for what’s left.’
Chapter Four
Roxanne wondered fleetingly if Sir Charles resented not being Lord Samphire’s heir, then dismissed it as a silly idea. If ever she’d met a man capable of forging his own destiny, it was Sir Charles Afforde. No doubt he’d been able to buy Hollowhurst by his own efforts after such a successful career, even without that very substantial trust fund from his mother that Davy had told her of long ago, when she was still eager for every snippet of information she could garner about this stranger.
Naval captains with a reputation like his must have been turning crew away instead of having to press-gang them, eager as they’d be for a share of his prizes. None of which meant she had to like him, she reassured herself stalwartly and managed to recover her barely suppressed fury at him. If she didn’t, she’d break down in front of him, and such weakness was intolerable.
‘I’ve no need to “scrabble”, sir,’ she assured him stiffly. ‘My uncle left me a fine house in Hollowhurst village and his personal property. Didn’t my brother inform you of the terms of his will when he sold you Hollowhurst?’
‘He said there was a fine line to tread between his great-uncle’s personal property and the goods and chattels that came with the castle. One you must have expected to walk if he brought a bride home.’
‘I might feel more generous towards my brother,’ she snapped, because she saw pity in his blue eyes and she’d prefer anything to that, even a cold fury she sensed would freeze her to the marrow if he ever unleashed it.
‘Yet I’ve no intention of arguing about a few court cupboards and worm-eaten refectory tables, Miss Courland, so pray take what you like,’ he countered coolly.
‘And I won’t ransack the place in search of my inheritance, Sir Charles. My house is already furnished and all I require will fit on the farm dray when it returns. You’ll find your bookshelves a little empty and one or two walls bare, but I’m no magpie to be going about the place gathering everything I can.’
‘I suspect you’d rather leave much of what’s yours behind out of sheer pride, lest you be thought grasping. I give you fair warning I’ll send it after you if you’re foolish enough to do that.’
‘Then I’ll send it back. I already told you I’ve no room.’
‘Perhaps we should place the excess in a field halfway between our houses and fight a duel for it one morning?’ he said as if their argument was mildly amusing, but in danger of becoming tedious.
Well, it didn’t amuse her; she set her teeth and wondered why she’d got into this unproductive dispute in the first place. Of course she’d intended to be gone before he arrived, but he’d outmanoeuvred her and she suddenly knew how all those French captains felt when the famous, or infamous, Condottiere’s sails appeared on the horizon.
‘Do you intend to fill the castle with daybeds in the Egyptian style and chairs and tables with alligator feet, then?’ she asked sweetly.
‘No,’ he replied shortly. ‘I prefer comfort to fashion.’
‘Then you’ll just have to accept that most of the furniture was built to fit a castle and would look ridiculous in a house less than fifty years old.’
‘And you’ll have to accept I’m here to stay and have no intention of being cut by half the neighbourhood for throwing you out of your home at half a day’s
