Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,249

the nearby village. Wister broke the seal and opened the dreaded missive. Her heart sank as she read Baron Carno’s letter.

“He is coming here for a visit. That is all I need,” she whispered.

How long would it take for this Welsh baron to decide that she was not up to the task of managing the estate and give her formal notice? And then where would she be?

On her own. No money, and with nowhere to go.

Wister stuffed the letter into her pocket. She swallowed deeply, fighting back tears. This day had always been coming. The minute Lord Kington drew his last breath, the clock had begun to tick down.

She toyed with the silver ring on her right hand. The green garnet glistened in the midmorning sunlight. It had been a gift from her late parents, one of the few things she had managed to hold onto over the years, and it was her most precious possession.

But if Baron Carno did have in mind to rid himself of her from Kington House, the ring would be one of the first things Wister would have to sell. Food and a roof over her head had to be more of a priority than keeping a cherished family jewel.

With all thoughts of apple hunting now gone, Wister wandered off down the long walk between the trees and into the nearby wood.

I may as well enjoy the last of my rambles through Kington Wood. Who knows where I will be this time next month?

In a matter of days, the new lord of the manor would be arriving. And no doubt after having taken one look at the financial mess of his estate, she would be given her marching orders.

Chapter Three

Rhys climbed slowly down from the travel coach, hesitant to set foot on the stone drive of Kington House. If the view out the window on the approach from Kington village was anything to go by, he was in for a long day of disappointment.

The fields were devoid of livestock, and apart from a small patch of ground close to the main house, there didn’t appear to be any crops in the ground.

Just what I need—another estate that sucks my purse dry.

Deri climbed down after him, then leaned in close. “Just look for the positive signs, Rhys. The land is well drained and while those fields are now fallow, from the look of them, at some point in the recent enough past they supported crops. And it isn’t raining.”

Thank god he had brought his cousin with him. Deri Hughes could always be relied upon to find the good in any situation. Rhys had a sinking feeling he was going to need every cheerful comment from him to get through the next day or so.

“Let’s stick to the basics. Remember to cover the fundamentals. If the estate has solid feet, I can rebuild,” muttered Rhys.

His father’s old mantra played in his head. The last Baron Carno had been a pragmatic Welshman to his bones.

I miss you every day.

He missed both his parents, and never more than today—the third anniversary of their deaths. Their absence weighed heavily on his shoulders this morning.

Rhys puffed out his cheeks and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. That being Kington House and what he was going to do with it.

The main house appeared to date from the early Georgian period, not particularly old but most certainly badly maintained. From its peeling paint and general dilapidated state, it was clear he was going to have to make some hard decisions—the first of those being what to do with the clearly incompetent estate manager. No respectable servant would have allowed the property to fall into such obvious disrepair.

He took a step back and, shielding his eyes from the glare of the morning sun, surveyed the roof. Even from where he stood, the signs of broken guttering and missing roof tiles could not go unnoticed.

If the roof is not protected, I dread to think what damage the rains have caused inside. How can anyone, have let things go to such an extent?

He huffed. A woman—that was who. She was probably too busy worrying about stitching samplers to notice the place falling down around her ears.

“Lord Carno?”

Rhys dropped his gaze and spun ’round on his heel. From out the front of the house a woman had appeared and was making her way over to him. Deri let out a low, appreciative whistle, which Rhys did his best to ignore. He was not in