Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,265

so much trouble.

If Deri didn’t hurry up and put him out of his misery, he might have to abandon his cousin and retreat to his room.

“Lord Kington kept that poor girl here and made certain that she couldn’t ever leave. The story in town is that she applied for many positions over the past year or so, but that she was rejected due to her loose morals. She was considered unsuitable for any good homes to employ,” said Deri.

Rhys shot to his feet. Whisky sloshed onto the carpet. “What?!”

This didn’t sound the least like the Wister he knew. His Wister had fled after he had kissed her.

“It all sounded a little odd to me, but then Mama showed me a letter. Apparently, Wister applied for a position in her household a little while back. Mama would have considered her for the role except for the fact that she had already received a letter from Lord Kington informing her that Miss Wister York was not of good character.”

Rhys was stunned. Now things made clearer sense. Wister had been doing everything she could to leave Kington House, and his distant cousin had done his all to scupper her plans. Right now, he would dearly love to go out to the family burial plot and kick Lord Kington’s headstone over.

All that time, she had been given no other choice than to do her best to manage the estate and go unpaid. Rhys took in a long, deep breath, hoping it would calm his burning temper. It didn’t.

“There is a final, bitter piece to all this. Something that explains the condition of the estate and house. Remember when you said estates failed over three things—women, wagering, and waste?” said Deri.

A chill slid down Rhys’s back. Whatever Deri was about to tell him, was not going to be good. “Go on.”

“Well, I did a little digging around in the ton, and it transpires that Lord Kington not only had a serious gambling habit, but that he kept not one but two money-hungry mistresses. Little wonder the coffers are almost empty.”

Rhys downed the remainder of his whisky in one go, then stood slowly shaking his head. He now knew where all the missing money had gone. Lord Kington had spent it. And poor Wister hadn’t done a terrible job in trying to keep Kington House afloat—she had performed a bloody miracle.

Regret and self-loathing now took the place of his rage. Wister had been a virtual prisoner here. She had worked her fingers to the bone in an endless, thankless job. And what had he done? Accused her of everything from gross mismanagement to outright theft.

And don’t forget you kissed her. You are not much better than Lord Kington in taking advantage of a vulnerable young woman.

He had to set things to right. To reframe his relationship with Wister. To make her understand that she meant more to him than just an advisor.

You should be thanking her for everything she has done to keep this place going.

And he would do just that, but first, he had to find her.

Then I need to make her want to stay.

Chapter Thirteen

Lord Kington had written to prospective employers and warned them off taking Wister into their homes. Rhys could understand that by doing so, the blackguard had managed to effectively keep her as his own personal serf. Without money or means, she would never be able to leave Kington House.

But what occupied Rhys’s mind later that morning as he walked into Kington village, was how Lord Kington had known which families he should write to in order to stop Wister leaving. His aunt had received one of Lord Kington’s warning letters, and from what Deri had told him, his mother hadn’t known either Lord or Lady Kington.

The sight of the mail coach pulling away from the whitewashed Royal Oak Inn had Rhys frowning. Any letter which went to London would have had to be handled by the owner of the inn. He hurried to the front door, slipping his hat off as he stepped inside. Rhys closed the door behind him. If his suspicions were proven correct, someone was going to pay.

The inn’s owner appeared from a side room and bowed low in greeting. “Lord Carno, good morning. You just missed the mail coach if you were planning on sending something to town. If you like, I can hold onto your mail until Thursday when the next coach is due.”

Rhys gave a quick check of the place. It was early and