Read The Rake for Free Online Page B

good job.” Over the years, Reggie had learned the value of an appreciative word, and Mrs. Herald beamed at the compliment.
    â€œI’m glad you think so, sir. We’ve done our best.” She hesitated a moment, then blurted out, “We’re all ever so glad to have a Stanton here again. It’s not right, the way Wargrave ignored this place for so many years. The old earl never once set foot here, just took money out and put naught back in.”
    She blushed then, remembering that the old earl had been her new master’s uncle and guardian, but Reggie only said mildly, “I’m a Davenport, not a Stanton.”
    â€œYour mother was a Stanton, that’s what counts in Dorset,” she said with a firm nod. “There have always been Stantons at Strickland.”
    Her words reminded Reggie of the way a judge pronounced a sentence. After a moment’s reflection he asked, “You’ll think this a foolish question, but do I have any Stanton relations?”
    â€œThe closest would be Mr. Jeremy Stanton at Fenton Hall. He was your mother’s cousin, and he and your father were good friends. He’s getting along in years now, but a fine gentleman.” Mrs. Herald shook her head with regret. “Your mother, Miss Anne, was an only child. Pity that her branch of the family had dwindled down to just her. If there had been any nearer relations, they never would have let the earl take you away after ...” She stopped, then decided not to continue that sentence. She finished with, “The Stantons always took care of their own.”
    Perhaps that’s why they died out, Reggie thought cynically, but he kept the words unsaid in the face of Mrs. Herald’s vicarious family pride. Aloud he said, “My man will be along in a day or so with my baggage, but I came by myself.”
    â€œShall I be putting your things in the master bedchamber?”
    A vivid image of the room flashed in front of Reggie. His parents had unfashionably shared it, sleeping together in the carved oak four-poster. It seemed wrong to sleep in their bed. “No, I’ll take the room above this one. The blue room it was called, I think.”
    â€œVery well, sir. Would you like something to eat? The house is all at sixes and sevenses, but my sister-in-law Molly Barlow is down in the kitchen, cleaning and stocking the pantry. She could do a cold collation quick enough.”
    â€œLater, perhaps. Now I’d rather see Mr. Weston. Do you know if he’s in the estate office, or is he out on the property somewhere?”
    Mrs. Herald paused, her normal garrulity temporarily deserting her. “It’s hard to say, sir. The steward is very active. Could be most anywhere.”
    â€œI’m told Weston is very good.”
    â€œOh, yes, Mr. Davenport. There isn’t a better steward anywhere,” she said with an odd, guilty expression.
    Reggie eyed her curiously, wondering why mentioning Weston had such an effect. Maybe the housekeeper was having an affair with the steward? Or didn’t country folk have such vices? If they didn’t, Dorset would prove dull indeed.
    He left the morning room. As he made his way through the house, he caught sight of two girls polishing wood and scrubbing floors. They stared with open curiosity, giggling bashfully and bobbing their heads when he nodded at them. An odd feeling, being lord of the manor.
    The side door led to a wide cobbled yard surrounded by buildings of the same golden-gray stone as the manor house. It was all so familiar. He glanced up, and remembered the day he’d climbed the ladder left by a man repairing the roof. He’d skittered happily around on the slates, having a wonderful time, until his mother appeared and ordered him to come down right now. Having no conception of what a fall to the cobbles would do to his life expectancy, he had been surprised by her alarm, but he’d come down readily enough.
    He had been