Regina Scott Read Online Free PDF

independence. He had come north to learn what Blackcliff Hall could do for him, not what he could do for it.
    Mrs. Dennison licked her lips. “And while you’re making plans for the place, sir, I hope you’ll see fit to reopen the mine.”
    Silence fell, stretched. They were all watching him. He wouldn’t have been surprised had they been holding their breaths. But this was one question he felt perfectly comfortable answering.
    He smiled at the woman. “If there’s a producing mine on my land, you can be sure I’ll have it opened.”
    Another cheer went up. Hats were launched into the air. Couples embraced. Mrs. Dennison was openly crying now.
    Gwen Allbridge grabbed his arm and yanked him toward Icarus.
    “Now you’ve done it,” she said, dark eyes narrowed. “If I were you, I’d ride hard for the Hall and not look back.”

Chapter Four
    O f course, Sir Trevor ignored her advice. In fact, Gwen was beginning to think the baronet was not going to be an easy gentleman to manage.
    He kept his head high as his horse stepped away from the inn, the crowd cavorting along behind him as he made his stately way up the winding, tree-shaded lane. He must know the hope he’d given them—their faces glowed and their praises rang to the fells. Walking beside him, she could look up at his face—calm, dignified, with the barest hint of a smile lingering about the curve of his lips. He obviously had no idea that what he’d promised was impossible.
    Oh, Lord, please keep them from hating him when he has to tell them the truth!
    At least he wasn’t gloating, she thought as they approached the wrought-iron gates of Blackcliff Hall. However much of a challenge he offered her inkeeping the estate going, he had to be a better owner than Colonel Umbrey. The colonel had always been capricious—the house too warm one day, too cold the next; salmon his favorite and least favorite meal by turns. He’d only grown more strange as the years had passed. Look at how he’d cast off his faithful valet, discharged her father and holed up in his bedchamber.
    But even he had understood that the mine was closed.
    The villagers stopped respectfully outside the gates, their rousing cheers following Gwen and Trevor up the curving gravel drive. The trees edging the estate boundary quickly hid them from view. From the direction of the gatehouse came a single, questioning bark: Dolly, protesting being left behind. She hated it when Gwen locked her in the kennel behind the stone gatehouse. Gwen would have liked nothing better than to lean against Dolly’s warm side, particularly as Gwen was a bit sore from the night’s exertions.
    But she knew the mastiff had no place in the morning’s activities. This morning was all for Sir Trevor.
    As they continued up the drive, other noises faded until the loudest sound was the crunch of Icarus’s hooves against rough gravel. The autumn breeze brushed Gwen’s cheek, set the trees along the drive to rustling. Leaves of bright red and deep russet drifted down across the emerald lawn.
    “How long has Blackcliff been sitting?” Sir Trevor asked.
    Did it look so terrible to him, even in the daylight? True, the stone fountain below the sweep of the drive stood empty and clogged with fallen leaves, but that was easily fixed. “About six months,” Gwen replied. “Colonel Umbrey refused all callers the last three months of his life, and he wouldn’t allow any changes to the estate. But the mine’s been closed for over a year. The surveyors said it was too dangerous to work.”
    There—she’d said it. She cast him a quick glance to see how he might be taking it. The smile on his handsome face was even more noticeable.
    “Surveyors can be mistaken,” he said.
    So could he, but Gwen was suddenly very glad his education was one thing she could leave to her father.
    Rob Winslow was waiting in front of the gray stone manor to take Icarus. She’d picked Rob purposely. He was tall, his strapping frame showed well