The Indebted Earl

kept a firm hand on the shoulder of one of the smaller boys, who scowled but stood still. Sophie was taken aback at his commanding tone, though she supposed he’d had years to perfect it. In his naval jacket with the gold braid and brass buttons, he looked impressive.
“Perhaps it is you who misunderstood.” The strange man puffed out his chest. “I’ll have you know you’re addressing the new Baron Richardson and that I own this house and property. This cottage, the farm, and the mill now belong to me. If I choose to perform a clean sweep of the contents and start fresh, that’s my business. I can burn the place to a pile of cinders if that is my choice. And my children are welcome to behave how I see fit within my own domicile.”
“Perry, is that you?” Mamie asked from halfway up the steps. She gripped the ends of her shawl around her shoulders with one hand and the banister with her other. “And Millicent?”
“That’s right, Aunt Mamie. I’m sorry about Rich and all. I thought you might invite us to the funeral. We waited what we felt was a decent amount of time, and now we’re here to inspect the property.”
Mamie descended the stairs carefully, and when she reached the bottom, she went to Sophie’s side, tucking her hand into Sophie’s elbow. “My dear, this is Perry. Peregrine Richardson, Rich’s second cousin, and his wife, Millicent.”
Rich’s second cousin. And he claimed to be the new Baron Richardson?
A decent amount of time? The man had to be joking. It had been barely any time at all since the memorial service. If he was indeed the new baron—and why hadn’t she considered that possibility?—then his haste in coming to Primrose seemed more like the behavior of carrion birds than a compassionate relative.
“And you are, sir?” Perry asked, turning from the women as if they were of no account.
The captain removed his hand from the boy and bowed slightly. “Captain Charles Wyvern, Royal Navy. Guest of Lady Richardson and Lady Sophia.”
A coachman entered the front hall, bowed under the trunk on his shoulder. “Your pardon, sir. The baggage coach is ’ere. Where ya want us to put yer things?”
Another man followed, laden with bags. Sophie’s eyes met the captain’s. This was a proper invasion. How long would they stay?
“Mamie, would you like me to sort rooms? It appears Mr. and Mrs. Richardson and their children will be our guests for a day or two,” Sophie said. Pray it won’t be any longer than that.
“That’s Lord and Lady Richardson,” Millicent snapped. “We’re not the guests. As my husband said, since he has inherited the title and the property, you are our guests.” She handed her parasol to the coachman, who grappled with it and the trunk. “I will sort out the rooms myself when I go upstairs. For now, I’m perishing for a cup of tea.” She sent Sophie a pointed stare, as if challenging her to disagree.
Bristling, Sophie inhaled, ready to hoe in, but Mamie put her hand on Sophie’s arm. “Perhaps you might inform Mrs. Chapman?”
The captain cleared his throat. “My belongings are packed. I shall remove them to make space for the …” He stopped and then waved his hand at the new arrivals. He edged past Sophie on his way to the stairs, and as he brushed by, he reached out and squeezed her elbow.
The contact surprised Sophie. Her eyes clashed with his, and he looked hard into her face, as if bracing her up before this new onslaught.
“I want my own room. I’m not sharing with Geoffrey.” The boys went pelting upstairs, streaming around the captain, who marched up with dignity and a straight back.
Millicent Richardson followed, a sneer marring her face as she observed the paintings on the stairwell wall. She spoke over her shoulder as she went. “Conducting this conversation in the hall is hardly appropriate, Perry. Go into the drawing room. I’ll do a quick inspection of the upstairs and be with you soon.”
Sophie didn’t want to leave poor Mamie alone long with the pompous Perry, so the minute they went into the drawing room, she dashed into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Chapman, company has arrived. Actually, they don’t wish to be called company. It’s a relative of Mamie’s, and he says he’s the new baron and that he owns Primrose now. They intend to stay on, at least for a little while.” She paused for breath. “There are four children—boys who don’t seem to know the difference between a front hall and a gymnasium—and I fear the lady of the family will be difficult to please …” Sophie stopped as several expressions crossed the housekeeper’s face, mirroring her own feelings on the subject.
“Six people? A new baron? Where will they stay? Primrose doesn’t run to that many bedchambers.” Mrs. Chapman wiped her hands on her apron. “Where’s Miss Mamie?”
“She’s in the drawing room with the new baron, and I must get back there. I know it’s still early, but will you prepare a tea tray for five adults, and I suppose another for those boys. Perhaps some bread and butter for them, since we’ve nothing much prepared in the way of a sweet. As to the bedrooms, I’ll move in with Mamie for the duration of the stay. That will leave my room free.” She was rambling. Her mind skittered like a sheep on ice.
“What about the captain?” Mrs. Chapman asked as she checked the kettle and swung it over the fire.
Sophie’s hand came up to cover the spot where he’d squeezed her arm. She could still feel his slender fingers and the strength they conveyed. “He’s gone upstairs to retrieve his belongings. That will leave another room free.”
The housekeeper sighed, her keys jingling as she searched for the one that unlocked the tea chest. “Too bad. It was nice having a gentleman around the place again.”
In spite of herself, Sophie agreed. Though it hadn’t been easy to hear what Captain Wyvern had