bring in enough capital to make several necessary improvements, Lady Clythebrook would agree without hesitation.
Ross smiled. It would be worth it to see the frustration on Miss Foley’s face when she realized Lady Clythebrook supported him. Even more worth it to watch her torn between her determination to keep him as far away from her and the orphanage as possible, and her desperation to provide for the children.
He wanted to smile at his sudden sense of satisfaction, but the reality of what he intended sliced through him as a double edged sword. For some reason he couldn’t explain, she affected him like no other woman ever had. She appeared to him at the most unlikely moments and infiltrating her world would only make it that much more difficult to banish her from his thoughts. That was already happening. He’d had a devil of a time trying to do just that since the night he’d found her running through the woods.
For six sleepless nights he’d tried to pretend the heat that had seared his body when he’d pressed himself against her hadn’t really happened. But he knew it had.
He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and pushed his mount toward Clythebrook Manor. He knew what his problem was. He’d been without a woman too long. That was the only logical explanation for the turmoil caused by just thinking about her. A turmoil he was determined to ignore—which was why he’d chosen this time of day to pay a call on Lady Clythebrook.
If Josie Foley kept to her schedule, she would be at the foundling home now like she was every afternoon, and he could discuss his idea with Lady Clythebrook without her there to put down every item he proposed. Because somehow he knew she would. At first, at least. Until she found out about the added income for the orphanage.
Ross turned his mount down the long tree-lined lane that led to Clythebrook Manor. The ancient, three-story stone country house still stood majestically on the top of a small rise, but the once carefully-tended lawns and gardens were now threatened with weeds and scraggly bushes. A double row of spreading linden trees flanked the manor house on two sides, yet beneath the lush branches, dozens of saplings sprouted in wild abandon. Ross looked, but there wasn’t a single gardener tending what must have once been a well-landscaped lawn.
He rode his horse to the apex of the semi-circular drive and dismounted. At Rainforth Park, where he’d spent a month or so during every summer in a life he seldom let himself remember, one of a dozen or more stable hands would have been standing ready to take charge of a horse or carriage before any guest could even dismount. The lack of even one servant to care for his horse sent a distinct message. Ross looped his reins through a ringed brass pole and made his way to the front door and lifted the ornate knocker.
After several long minutes, a very distinguished-looking elderly gentleman in faded maroon and black livery greeted him. Although well past his prime, the butler exhibited an austere demeanor Ross was accustomed to from the well-trained, professional staff his father had employed.
“Good day,” Ross said, remaining on the pillared portico. “I’d like to speak with Lady Clythebrook.”
“And who may I say is calling?”
“The Marquess of Rainforth, from St. Stephen’s Hollow.”
The butler gave a curt nod and stepped back to allow Ross to enter the circular foyer. “Won’t you please come in?” he said, taking Ross’s hat and placing it on a table beside the door. “I’ll see if Lady Clythebrook is receiving.”
Ross watched the butler climb the winding staircase, then let his gaze move over the interior of Lady Clythebrook’s home. The vestibule was bright and cheery with radiant streams of sunlight that poured in from the four wide, floor-to-ceiling windows that bracketed the entrance. Ross could imagine Josephine Foley standing in this hall, her golden hair bathed in sunlight. An uncomfortable