![]() ![]() No wonder poor Albert had wanted to escape to a mission in the jungle he had not been cut out to be a landlord. Even the gravel was thin on the ground and the drive in worse shape than the country lane leading up from Keynsham. ‘What now, Captain?’ His groom tilted his head to inspect the clouds and Alan handed him the reins and jumped down, avoiding a muddy rut. ![]() The news that Albert Curtis had dropped dead in church in the middle of his sermon after recovering from a bout of fever was doubly unwelcome-now Alan would have to renegotiate the purchase with whoever inherited the house. The only problem was that he had no idea from whom. The estate had seen better days and with any luck would see them again, but first he would have to buy the place. It suited his mood and it certainly suited the gloom of the sooty stone and unkempt lawn of Hollywell House. It was fitting that each mile passed on the road from Bath had added a shade of grey to the clouds. Alan Rothwell, Lord Ravenscar, drew his team of black purebreds to a stop on the uneven drive of Hollywell House. ![]()
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