The Importance of Love Read Online Free PDF

meant to be sold and the profit given to me?”
    â€œI am afraid that his Lordship was quite definite, my Lord. I witnessed the will myself. Torr House goes to your son, David.”
    â€œOutrageous!” screamed the Earl, waving his cane at the poor man. “Not only does my mother have to suffer the humiliation of having my father’s grubby little secret aired to all and sundry at the funeral, but now his whore’s house goes to my son. It should be sold, I say. And the memory wiped off from our family’s slate.”
    â€œNot possible, my Lord. Unless, of course, Lord Kennington wishes to sell it. Although I must emphasise that should he do so, he will not inherit the money and, as the place is almost uninhabitable, he would not make much from it.”
    The Earl’s eyes bulged with fury.
    â€œCome along, Mother. We have heard enough,” he fumed. “Brownlow, I shall contest this farce of a will. It has brought shame to our name and should be disposed of, along with that damned house.”
    He hoisted his tearful mother up from her chair and bundled her out of the door without so much as a backward look or a goodbye to Mr. Brownlow.
    As the door slammed shut, the Viscount let out a sigh.
    â€œI am sorry for my father’s outburst. He is deeply upset, as we all are.”
    Mr. Brownlow nodded sagely and pursed his lips.
    â€œDeath does not bring out the best in people,” he remarked. “But your grandfather was very definite about leaving the house to you. I know that he hoped you would make something brilliant out of it and resume your passion for architecture. That is why he left you this particular bequest.”
    The Viscount arose and shook Mr. Brownlow’s hand. As he went to leave, the Solicitor called him back.
    â€œMy Lord, you will need these,” he said, handing him a large bunch of keys. “You will find two servants in residence who keep the house open and they will be very glad to see you. Do not let them or your grandfather down.”
    Extending his gnarled hand, the Viscount shook it warmly.
    Several moments later, he found himself standing on the pavement still clutching the heavy bunch of keys.
    He turned them over in his hand. There were two large ones with ornate handles and several smaller ones. Their thick black iron was tinged with red rust that stained his pigskin gloves.
    â€˜Torr House,’ he murmured, wondering what it looked like. ‘Grandpapa, I shall not let you down . Even if the place is a ruin, I shall do your bidding.’
    With one look up to Heaven, he choked back his emotions before walking purposefully towards his waiting carriage.

CHAPTER THREE
    Once back home the Viscount sank into a mild depression that took several days to shake off.
    He would sit for hours at a time, twirling the keys from Torr House in his hand and pondering his grandfather’s bequest as he regarded the ageing metal.
    Mr. Brownlow had sent him some correspondence after the reading of the will, giving him some more details of the house.
    There were two servants, a butler, Cork, and a housekeeper, Mrs. Cork, who kept the place open, although he emphasised that they lived in a cottage in the grounds as the main house was in such desperate need of renovation.
    â€œYour grandfather abandoned the house once Madame Le Fevre died and said he could not bear to visit it and be reminded of her,” he wrote. “As a result, only minimal repairs were carried out. The roof was patched five years ago after a storm caused damage, but that is all. You are to be given the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds initially with an annual income of five thousand pounds, subject to you taking up residence in the house for a period of no less than three months per year.”
    â€˜He must have loved this French woman very much,’ thought the Viscount, as he ruminated on his grandfather’s extra-marital domestic arrangements.
    â€˜But then again,