The Marquess of Cake by Heather Hiestand

Author:Heather Hiestand
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: eKensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Michael knew where Redcake Manor was, since Sir Bartley had mentioned it during their business dealings over the tea shop and emporium. Resolving to visit, he arrived in Polegate the next day, getting off there instead of taking the six-year-old Cuckoo Line up to Heathfield, near his farm. He swayed on his feet as he exited the train.

Far too muzzy-feeling to descend on the sisters right now. He went to find a pub so he could have something to eat.

His mother had refused to come down to the Farm, or to allow Beth to come with him. She’d have remembered to bring a hamper and force a sandwich into his hand, but quite a bit of society was still in town, thanks to the filthy weather, and parties were abundant, though not with the best people. Poor Beth would be left to her own devices, not being out. Quite selfish of Mother, but no surprise on that account. At any rate, he’d told her he just meant to pop down for a few days then come back again. A week of visits and labor and he’d be fit for London again.

At least this meant he didn’t have to go all the way to his farm first. He might have managed a womanish faint if he’d had to stay on the train any longer.

He checked through blurred vision for the sight of a pub on the street. Churches, a grocer, but no pub. Not a tea shop in sight, of course. He stumbled on a rock and would have gone down if he hadn’t been caught under the arm by a firm hand.

“My lord! Are you drunk?” A familiar pair of nutmeg eyes peered under his hat.

Of all the people to meet on the street.

“No, ill,” she mused, squeezing his arm. “But you don’t look feverish.”

“Haven’t eaten since breakfast. I was coming to see you, Alys,” he said thickly, hoping he wasn’t hallucinating her.

“Robbie!” she called.

A man jumped down from a rundown hired carriage. “Yes, miss?”

“My excursion has been cancelled. Please help his lordship into the carriage. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Michael watched Alys dash into the greengrocer’s while a large man dressed in coarse brown took his elbow as if he were an elderly aunt.

“Were we expecting you, my lord?”

He shook off the hand gently. “No, friend of the family.”

Robbie shook his head. “Don’t know where they’ll put you. That house isn’t fit for Quality. Don’t know what Morris was thinking.

He’s a bloody pirate, taking money for that place.”

“Morris?”

“The purveyor of property what sold that tumbledown house to Sir Bartley. That land is fine, sure, but to claim the house was hospitable? Just not right.”

Michael closed his eyes as he stepped into the swaying carriage.

Robbie stuck his head in, bringing with him the odor of onions.

“Do you have a bit of bread and cheese about your person, my lad?” He reached into his pocket and inspected what dropped onto his palm. “I’ll give you three shillings for it.

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