Saving Percival (The Cousins Book 3)

Chapter Five

Mentally and physically exhausted, Percival trudged back to the village. Just as he had when he set off, he ignored the curious and suspicious looks that were directed at him. He hadn't known what to expect when he rang the bell of Blossom Place, but having a middle-aged woman tell him to get off the property immediately wasn't it.

Poole had warned him that the enigmatic Miss Steit was an introvert, but Percival hadn't expected such a rude and hasty dismissal! Despite the woman's curt instruction, he had been tempted to remain despite the woman's command to remove himself. There must be someone else in the house. She hadn't been old enough to be the owner of Blossom Place.

His cousin, Lady Evan, had mentioned a companion, hadn't she? Percival couldn't remember clearly. It had been several months since his last conversation with his cousin. Would it be worth it to write to her and ask what she remembered? Would she have any new information to add?

Percival didn't like the idea of being beholden to his cousin for something, so he set the question aside and returned to the encounter at the door. If it turned out that he needed Lady Evan's help, he could always arrange to write a letter to her later.

The woman who had ordered him away hadn't been familiar. Of course, Percival rarely remembered faces, and names were even harder to keep in his memory. And when she spoke, her voice had sparked no recognition either.

Besides, a polite woman wouldn't have voiced such scolding words. Percival couldn't remember a time when anyone, regardless of gender, had addressed him with such intensity.

"Get off this property, sir!" she had said. "Your kind is not wanted here."

What did she mean by 'his kind'? He'd been careful to introduce himself as Sir Percival Ormund, Baronet, so that he wouldn't alarm her. Did she think he had made up the name? And if so, why?

Shaking his head, Percival forwent the tap room. He could hear the sound of voices talking and guessed that some locals had gathered for an evening pint. Being the source of more comments or stares was the last thing he wanted, so he climbed the stairs to his room.

It was a relief to remove his boots and long coat. Instead of earning him some clues or information, Percival's walk had left him with more questions. Stretching out on the bed, he closed his eyes and mulled over his first sight of the place.

Why did Blossom Place look as though it had been abandoned? A good ninety percent of the house was covered with ivy. The gate was rusted open, with prickly shrubs growing around it. The trees alongside the driveway had not been touched in ages and the lawn was unkempt.

Had he been passing by, Percival would have assumed it was unoccupied. But, with Poole's information to guide him, he'd made his way to the front door. When he'd drawn closer, he had seen smoke from a chimney, though there was no other sign of life.

Heaving a sigh, Percival opened his eyes. What a place to live! Why would anyone choose to remain there? Was there any staff, or was Miss Cooper doing every task for her elderly relative that a servant would normally do?

It would be a cruel and unusual punishment.

A distant shout caught his attention. Groaning at the thought that he would have another sleepless night, Percival rolled off the bed and went to the dirty window. He peered through and caught sight of a cart in the yard. There was a woman, standing next to the cart, and she was gesturing wildly.

"Indignity!" Percival thought he heard the woman say, muffled though it was. "Be careful with that!"

That tone. Could it be? Percival rubbed his arm against the glass in an attempt to see clearer who stood below. It sounded very much like the furious woman who had ordered him away from Blossom Place.