If He's Noble (Wherlocke #7)

“It is why I never told him about the beatings. Then there were the times she told me that he was the one who had ordered my punishment and how sorry she was to have to do it.”


Primrose muttered a curse, causing Simeon to laugh. “That was particularly cruel of her, the bitch. We were not only too trusting, but, I think, we live in our own heads too much. It was easy for her to fool us, smart though we are. And we are. But we just never learned enough about people to see the signs of her sickness.”

Simon nodded. “We are. Papa was. You could become lost in studying your plants and herbs. Papa and I could be lost as we tried to sort out some invention or thought through some problem. We should have looked around now and then. Should have learned how to deal with and understand people.” He straightened up. “Best to go down there. Our companions must wonder why we linger here so long.”

“I was wondering why you were taking so long to move,” said Lilybet as she rode up next to Simeon. “’Tis a very fine view but I assumed you had seen it before.”

Primrose bit back a grin as she watched her brother scowl at the woman. Lilybet appeared to delight in irritating a man well known for his calm, amiable nature. The woman played the game so very well, too, Primrose thought. Simeon never failed to snap at the bait. For such a brilliant man, he was being especially obtuse in his dealings with Lilybet.

“We were just about to go down,” Simeon said.

Simeon nudged his horse onto the path that led them out of the hills. Men were coming out of the stables before he even reached the flat area that led up to the doors of the manor. Primrose shook her head. Her father had made the house efficient; hiring people who did their jobs well and never wavered in their work. Except that bills needed to be paid, stock and crops sold, and papers needed to be signed, but her father had also made sure that he and his family were little troubled by the simple routines of the running of the estate. It had been smart, making life pleasant, but it had also made the perfect hunting ground for a predator like Augusta. It had opened the door to her thievery as well.

Bened studied Willow Hill carefully and sighed. A tasteful elegance could be seen in every inch of the building. Lawns and gardens were beautiful, lush, and as close to perfect as any he had ever seen. He had the sinking feeling that the inside of the manor would be equally as perfect.

The men from the stables greeted the Woottens with quiet respect and all of their belongings were swiftly collected by the servants from the house, all of them dressed in pristine blue and white uniforms appropriate to their positions in the household. Mixed in with the proper greetings and introductions, he could hear both Simeon and Primrose asking various servants about some health problem or a family member, revealing that they knew the people who worked for them very well.

He had his hereditary title, his knighthood, and his big manor house with several acres of good land but it would all look like a ruin if compared to Willow Hill. Despite the money he had put into the house, he doubted Primrose would see more than the hulk of a stone building it was. He had not brought his manor back to its former state but even that would never match the beauty of Willow Hill. It had none of this quiet elegance or softness.

Seeing the inside only depressed him more as an aging butler took his coat. The place was so clean it shone. Wealth was evident in the paintings and furniture but nothing was too ostentatious. In truth, the care taken to not appear too proud of one’s history and wealth, to not be ostentatious and vain in the display of what one had or could have, was just a little too obvious to Bened, nearly ruining the attempt.

He felt someone move up beside him and looked down into Lilybet’s face. The awed yet uneasy look she wore probably mirrored his own, he thought. One could almost feel the weight of a long history and smell the wealth. It did not intimidate but it did impress. It also made Bened painfully aware of his place in such a world. That place was certainly not standing next to Primrose.

Bevan came up on his other side and slapped him on the back. “It is all so very precise, is it not?”

It was, but Bened frowned at the hint of criticism in Bevan’s tone. “You think that is bad?” he asked in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the servants to hear what could sound like a complaint, and knowing that his brother had a similar need for such precision and cleanliness, but not so much that he could not be comfortable in the chaos that was real life.

“Odd, mostly. I got the impression from stories told by Simeon and Primrose that the baron was intelligent, affable, and even a little silly at times. The house does not match the man unless he learned at a young age to have his servants keep it so while he did as he pleased.”