The man would like nothing better than to see her cast out of house and home. Luckily for Elinor, the only way he could get his wish was if he sold off the estate; finding somebody willing to purchase the dilapidated house and estate would be next to impossible in the current environment.
Elinor pushed the matter from her mind as she dropped into her chair and began to tidy the clutter that seemed to accrete on her desk no matter how hard she tried to be neat.
She’d just finished re-shelving a pile of books when the library door swung open.
“The Earl of Trentham and Mr. Stephen Worth,” Beth announced, flinging out the names with enough pomp to satisfy a prince.
Charles strode into the library as if he owned it. Which he did, of course. Behind him came the most striking man Elinor had ever seen. His hair was the burnished hue of copper and his eyes were the vivid green of emeralds. If that wasn’t enough, his features and person were the stuff of mythic heroes. It was hard work dragging her eyes back to the earl’s less-than-appealing figure.
Charles gave her a perfunctory bow. “Good afternoon, Elinor. You are looking lovely today.” He smirked at his own lie. “Mr. Worth, may I present to you my aunt, Lady Trentham. Elinor, this is Mr. Stephen Worth.”
The paragon towered several inches above Charles, his broad shoulders, buckskin-clad thighs, and highly polished boots dominating the room. He fixed his beautiful eyes on her face and his full lips curved in a way that resurrected her long-slumbering heart and set it hammering against her ribs like a lunatic pounding on a cell door.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His accent was unusual and Elinor struggled to place it as he took her hand and bowed over it. She refused to wear gloves, much to Beth’s chagrin, and her hands were not those of a lady. For the first time in memory, Elinor felt the urge to hide her calloused, chapped fingers from this perfect, elegant creature. She settled for removing her hand as quickly as politely possible.
“You are not from England, Mr. Worth?” She was pleased to hear her voice sounded normal, no matter how strangely the rest of her body was behaving.
His teeth were a flash of white in his tanned face. “No, my lady, I’m from England’s prior upstart colony.” His cocky smile belied his humble words.
“One could hardly call the United States an upstart.”
His smile turned wry. “I thought the same thing until I spent a Season in London.”
Elinor couldn’t help smiling. What a shock the burnished, gorgeous creature must have given the pale aristocrats who dominated the ton.
“Mr. Worth is here on business, Elinor,” Charles broke in, clearly in no mood for social banter. “He represents Siddons Bank of Boston.” His pale blue eyes, so like those of Elinor’s dead husband, watched her with the cold intensity of a snake.
“Naturally I’ve heard of Siddons,” Elinor murmured. Did Charles mean the man was in England for business? Or in Trentham for business? Just what was Charles up to?
The door opened and Beth entered bearing a large tea tray.
Elinor gestured to her desk and Beth’s frown told Elinor what her servant thought of such a barbaric notion, but Elinor ignored her. For some reason, she was not inclined to leave the safety of her desk to serve tea today.
“Mr. Worth recently assisted the Duke of Coventry with his, er, entail issue,” Charles said the instant the door closed behind Beth.
Elinor’s hand shook at the word ‘entail’ and tea sloshed over the rim of the cup and pooled in the saucer.
“How clumsy of me,” she murmured, her hand trembling as she lowered the teapot. She looked up to find two sets of eyes on her. One pair was, predictably, malicious and the other? Well, she didn’t know what she saw in the American’s eyes. Curiosity? Boredom? Thirst?
“Do you take milk or sugar, Mr. Worth?”
“Milk and two sugars, please.”
Elinor fixed his tea, filled a plate with an assortment from the tray, and looked up. The American rose and came to take the cup. He was tall and well-formed and moved with the grace of an athlete.
“Much obliged, my lady,” he said, his unusual accent pleasing to her ear. Indeed, there was nothing about him that did not appear pleasing; except perhaps his reasons for coming to Trentham.
Elinor turned away from his disturbingly appealing person and prepared Charles’s tea. She was relieved to have something to busy her hands with as she asked her next question.
“But Blackfriars is not entailed.” She lifted the cup and saucer toward him, grateful her hand was no longer shaking.
Charles took the proffered cup and waved away the plate of food.
“No, it is not. But that is not the only service Mr. Worth’s bank offers.”
A sick feeling began to expand in her stomach. “Oh?”
“I need to consider my options,” Charles said with a smirk. “You, more than anyone, should know the property is a horrific drain on my purse, Elinor. You watched for almost a decade as it drained my uncle of his resources. It will hardly get better as crop prices continue to fall. We beat the French in battle but they will have their revenge with the plow. We simply cannot compete with them when it comes to agriculture and it is foolish to try.”
Elinor ignored his self-serving argument.
“The property is vastly underutilized, Charles. Blackfriars would provide far more revenue if you made the necessary repairs to attract more tenants. Easily half the land goes un-worked and many of the cottages are—”
Charles waved his hand, his thin lips twisting into a condescending smile. “Things are
