Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,269

Weld?”

“Yes, Lord Carno.”

After George had disappeared into the house, Rhys opened the letter.

“Bollocks.”

When he had written to his bank instructing them to prepare a bank note made payable to Wister York for wages owed, it had been with the idea of seeing her off the estate and her debt settled. Now the note represented something else—the certain and worrying knowledge that she would soon be leaving Kington House.

He lingered in the garden, not wishing to disturb the difficult conversation Wister was likely having with George somewhere in the house. When Wister herself appeared only a few minutes later and began to make her way over to him, Rhys steeled himself. Her face was as black as thunder.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“It was brief and to the point. Suffice to say I won’t be spending any coin at the Royal Oak in the next month or so,” she said.

“But George did offer up a groveling apology?”

“Yes, and in return I assured him that the matter shall remain a secret between the three of us. He doesn’t need the villagers turning against him because he did something at the behest of Lord Kington. While he finds you intimidating, he does seem to respect you—something which few people did with your predecessor.”

As far as Rhys was concerned, she would have been well within her rights to yell at George. He had helped ruin her life. But Wister was the bigger person here. The Weld family had to live in the village and be able to face their neighbors.

As he searched her face, Rhys’s heart was filled with pride. Wister had shown George Weld a degree of good grace of which he was not deserving, and which Rhys suspected he did not have within himself.

Her eyes were clear and bright. There was not a hint of tears. This woman was strong. She was a true survivor.

He could only hope she didn’t decide she wanted to stand completely on her own. The letter in his hand now tested his resolve. He had to give her the money, but he also wanted her to stay.

I am not bloody Lord Kington. This woman has the right to decide her own life’s path.

She pointed to the letter in his hand. “Is that another notice of demand? I can add it to the pile in the study if you like.”

He held it out to her. “Actually, it’s a bank note payable to you. It covers the money you were owed for your time under the previous owner of Kington House.”

Wister took the letter and briefly read it before tucking it into her pocket. “Thank you, Rhys. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

It means you have the money to be able to leave Kington House, to leave me. Bloody hell, I am going to lose this woman if I don’t do something.

“It gives you options,” he replied.

The second she began to fiddle nervously with the green stone ring on her hand, Rhys knew he hadn’t put things as eloquently as he should have done. His mind had an unfortunate tendency to go blank in moments of social awkwardness. “I mean, you could stay here. With me, after your advisor role is complete,” he added.

Is that clear enough, or am I still making a hash of this?

“So, it would be some sort of arrangement?” she replied.

That wasn’t quite how he would have phrased it. Rhys was still searching for the right words when Deri appeared from out of the nearby wood and hailed them.

Blast. Deri, your timing couldn’t be worse. Can’t you see I am trying to woo her?

Wister raised a hand in greeting. Rhys could have sworn he caught the edge of a sigh of relief from her as she stepped past him.

“Lord Ruthin, how lovely to see you once more.”

Oh hell. I don’t think she understood what I really meant. Of course, she didn’t. You just offered Wister her old job back. What did you expect?

Rhys gritted his teeth. Yet again he had proven himself to be hopeless when it came to women. He found it difficult to ask them to dance. Found it even harder to conduct a conversation which held their interest for more than a minute. How on earth was he expected to make Wister understand that he was falling in love with her?

Chapter Sixteen

It wasn’t exactly the sort of offer Wister had been longing to receive from Rhys. At the least she was looking for a declaration involving some kind