His uncle had apparently paid as little attention to maintenance at the mines as he had at his house. Instead, he had focused on safety at the estate’s mines. He had easily looked past the peeling wall coverings and the definite stench of mildew. Until last night, he had not been bothered by the sorry condition of the house he had inherited from his uncle, along with the title of Lord Warrick. Servants moved in an easy, efficient rhythm through the home, doing tasks needed to keep the Trelawney family in comfort.Įverything was exactly as the manor belonging to the Earl of Launceston should be.Įverything was the complete opposite of Warrick Hall, his estate. No dust or wet stains created strange scents in the corridor. The walls were not pocked with chipped paint.
In Cothaire, the great house overlooking Porthlowen Cove, elegant furniture and artwork filled the hallway. Not that his surroundings were not pleasant.
Jacob Warrick pushed his spectacles up on his nose as he followed a footman and wished he could be anywhere else. Chapter One Porthlowen, North Cornwall November 1812
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