Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,246

had been fought over the imposing Norman fortress. It was said that the castle’s outer walls, which had once been twelve feet thick, had not been built to withstand invaders—rather they had been designed to keep out the bitter Welsh wind.

“All jests aside, what are you going to do?” asked Deri.

Now there is the question I have been asking myself just about every waking moment for the past few weeks. What am I going to do?

“Well, I could put another advertisement in The Times and see if I can get someone new. Though The Cambrian in Swansea might at least get me a valet from Wales—someone who will stay for more than a few months,” he replied.

Deri huffed. “I meant about Kington House. I would have thought a near-bankrupt estate would be higher on your list of priorities than getting that fur removed from your face.”

Kington House. Now there was a whole other hairy problem. What was he to do with the sudden and unexpected inheritance which had recently landed in his lap? His father’s second cousin, somewhat removed, had passed away a few months ago, leaving Rhys as the new owner of an estate just over the border in Herefordshire, England.

Rhys’s initial glee at this supposed windfall had soon turned to disappointment. His man of business had ventured to Kington to look over matters, and quickly returned bearing news of a badly rundown estate and empty coffers.

Now he had two millstones around his neck. One a mismanaged English property, the other his family’s semi-ruined ancient castle. He would likely never have enough money to rebuild Carno Castle, but a substantial country house in England might just give him a place where he could reestablish the Morgan family fortunes. Or at the very least it would be something which he could sell to allow him to live out his days somewhere warmer, like London.

“I’m thinking of making the trip over to Kington before Christmas to see just how bad things are. If the estate cannot be salvaged without a large injection of funds, I may just as well be rid of it,” he replied.

Deri frowned. “That’s not like you to walk away from a challenge. I would have thought you would relish saving a rundown place. Lord knows you have performed enough financial miracles to keep this one going.”

And I am tired of praying constantly for divine intervention.

The land around Carno barely managed to support a few small herds of Welsh mountain sheep. The castle’s long-suffering tenants paid but a token amount of rent to their lord. “Truth be told, I just want a quiet life. It’s lonely out here. If I could find a way to make one of the estates pay for themselves, I might be in a better financial position to take on a wife.”

As things currently stood, other than an ancient title and a rundown castle, he had little to offer to a prospective bride.

“It’s funny, you know. I have been having similar thoughts myself. We are both not seeing another birthday in our twenties again and the idea of having a family has become more appealing to me over the past year,” replied Deri.

Rhys was grateful that his cousin didn’t bother to mention that Ruthin Castle was a fully functioning estate, one which would hold some attraction to a potential wife. Any woman who came to reside at Carno would find herself living in the cramped small rooms of the old gatehouse—the only part of the castle which remained inhabitable.

Rhys crossed to the small stone fireplace and using the edge of his boot, lifted a log which had fallen out of the grate, placing it back into the flames. It was a pointless exercise at best. The fire gave out little heat. At this time of the year, he didn’t bother to take off his heavy woolen coat even when inside. “Is the thought of a wife the reason why you have been keeping a steady stream of secret correspondence with Miss Sophie Gerald these past few months?”

Deri had the good grace to blush. “I was not aware that you were aware, but yes, we have been writing to one another.”

Rhys wagged a finger at his cousin. “If you get your mail directed to my home, there is a good chance that it will cross my desk at some point. And Miss Gerald uses the family seal on the wax, so it was easy enough for me to put two and two together.”

He couldn’t begrudge