An Unusual Courtship by Katherine Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page A

ancient and noble bloodline?”
    “Oh, not at all!” Percival exclaimed. “I do confess, there are times when I permit myself some phantasy upon what it would be like to be Baron Lindsay of Linston Grange, but, to be sure, I feel no resentment on the topic. It should be noted that I am in no way Lord Barham’s vassal. The Manor is not a part of the Marquisate of Linston, and—unlike the majority of the lands and village—I am not my Lord Barham’s tenant. My management of the estates is not a duty of either birth or position, but rather a courtesy rendered in the recognition of a friendship between our houses. The first Marquess of Barham, in my grandmother’s time, allowed my grandmother—Alexandra Valentine, née Lindsay—and her husband the management of the estates out of respect for the house of Lindsay. I manage my own family’s estate, which is the Manor and some smaller portions of the village and surrounding land, and I receive some percentage of the proceeds from managing the Grange and the lands under the Marquisate, which is an allowance of a non-binding agreement which I or my heirs may dissolve at any time. Or, I suppose, might Lord Barham, but it would be very discourteous of him to do so. And since it does not please Lord Barham to make use of the Grange, or has not for these past twenty years, we are all best suited with this arrangement.”
    “I understand much better now.” Mr. Everett smiled in his direction, as they passed through the open gates toward the manor.
    It was a much smaller estate than the Grange, but very pleasant. Sheep grazed upon the lawn, keeping it trimmed quite close so that it spread out across the meadow like an emerald carpet. The Manor itself stood atop a little hill backed by thick forest. Built of the pale, yellow stone that was local to the region, the Manor crumbled modestly at the edges like a beautiful old dowager trying to hide her age.
    Percival loved it all the more for its age and wear. His Manor was eccentrically lovely, although his affection for it was certainly helped along by the fact that he was never personally required to repair the roof.
    “How charming it is,” said Mr. Everett. “Is it of Gothic construction?”
    “Yes, indeed,” said Percival. “It was built by the fourth Baron Lindsay. There was a manor house on the site before it, which dated to the eleventh century, but I know nothing more about it and there were no drawings made of the former house. I am quite fond of my Gothic old pile.” He hesitated at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Manor. “Do you wish to see the gardens now, or shall we go in and take refreshment?”
    “I would very much like to see the gardens, unless you require refreshment.” Mr. Everett’s smile warmed his eyes, making the blue of them seem warm and summery.
    “We shall see the gardens, and then take refreshment,” proposed Percival. He led the way around the side of the house to where the Italian-style garden was laid out in an attractive maze of symmetrical pathways around a central, rectangular pool.
    As they walked along the side of the lily-filled pool, Mr. Everett inquired about the various botanical elements of the garden.
    “I’m afraid I am not at all certain of the varietal of that rose,” Percival admitted. “If you please, I can fetch my gardener. Mr. Jeremy is very knowledgeable, and I am inclined to give him free reign in the gardens. I feel that I am not at all a green thumb, and were I ever myself required to make decisions regarding the garden, I fear we should end up with a group of sticks in a pot.”
    Mr. Everett laughed. “I suspect that you do not give yourself enough credit. The gardens are lovely, as is everything around Linston. You are most remarkably competent.”
    “Why, Mr. Everett,” Percival said, “I do believe you are an unrepentant flatterer.”
    “Entirely unrepentant,” Mr. Everett agreed.
    Percival turned toward him, intending to indicate that they