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did really owe him. She sighed and
drew to a stop. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the two
attackers Tom and Charlie were both now sitting; one rubbing his
jaw and the other his sore stomach. She had no doubt once the shock
and consternation had worn off, they would be looking for
vengeance. With a shiver, she turned away, flicking the man beside
her a quick glance.
    “ It isn’t safe around here,” she whispered softly. “This isn’t
the place for strangers such as yourself to stay. If you have any
sense, you will turn around and just leave.”
    “ Why? I am sure I have proven that I am more than capable of
taking care of myself.”
    “ I am sure you are, but there is more going on that you
understand,” Francesca frowned, aware that Simon had shifted
closer. She could feel the sheer masculinity emanating from him and
it battered her senses, making her thoughts cloudy and
jumbled.
    “ Like what?”
    It was
on the tip of her tongue to tell him everything. It was so far out
of her character to confide in a total stranger that she had to
give herself a mental shake to keep quiet. Instead, because she
didn’t know him and ergo, couldn’t entirely trust him, she simply
looked at him.
    “ There are a lot of unusual things going on, and have been for
some time. It isn’t safe for you to stay here. Please, keep
yourself safe, and go and stay in Brostock.”
    “ I’m staying here,” Simon declared firmly. “I’m not afraid of
those two, are you?” He knew she was by the lingering fear in her
eyes and the brief, worried look she threw at him. “Come on, I’ll
walk you home.” He didn’t wait for her to follow, simply continued
to walk down the path in the direction they had been headed. That
is, until he rounded the bend in the road, and saw where she was
heading.
    “ Good Lord.” His jaw dropped, and he stared at the sight that
before him with a mixture of horrified dread and awe. He was only
vaguely aware of the woman moving to stand beside him but couldn’t
tear his gaze away from the huge monstrosity that sat in the valley
below.
    Slowly,
his gaze around and stared almost accusingly at her. He felt the
matrimonial shackles being slapped onto his ankles and suddenly
felt extremely angry. If she was a lady, she had almost certainly
been compromised and not by the two thugs now lying in the gutter
where they belonged, but by him. A lord of the realm and the third
Earl of Marlbrook, and entitled gent who had to do right by a lady
he had spent some not inconsiderable time alone with.
    Francesca refused to apologise for the house and misread the
horror on his face for disgust of the aristocracy. She hadn’t been
raised in the ballrooms of the Ton and, until recently, hadn’t expected to inherit
any title or estates but, as events in her life had unfolded, she
had been handed everything; everything that she was now struggling
to know how to deal with.
    “ Thistledown House,” Francesca mumbled, studying the yellow
stone mansion sitting below them. From a distance it sat in golden
splendour, nestled amongst the moor, fitted as intrinsically as
though placed there by Mother Nature herself. Long rows of windows
lined all three floors of the huge house, and were bracketed by
large towers capped with battlements. The drive they were standing
on swept down in a large ribbon toward the huge portico entrance
that sat overlooking a water feature that had not seen use for some
time.
    Now that
the initial shock had worn off, Simon was able to study the facade
more carefully and realised that things were not as they at first
appeared. Everything was worn and unkempt, as though lost and
abandoned. Frowning carefully, he began to walk as he studied the
edifice.
    Aware of
his surprise, Francesca continued to walk down the path, giving him
the time to absorb the mess Thistledown House was in. If she was
honest, she had no idea how she was going to go about restoring the
place, or even if she wanted to. It was such