Page 83 of Why Do Rogues Fall in Love?

Cordelia smiled. “I can readily imagine it.”

“My father was considerably less delighted.”

“Oh?”

George gave a quiet laugh, though there was little amusement in his expression. “He believed my affection for animals was an eccentricity I ought to outgrow. A gentleman, he maintained, might keep fine horses and sporting dogs, but he had no business turning his home into a refuge for every miserable creature he encountered.”

Cordelia frowned. “He disapproved?”

“Profoundly.”

“But why?”

“Young gentlemen of my station should distinguish themselves at boxing and fencing, to prove their mettle in pursuits their fathers could admire. I had little interest in such accomplishments beyond what was expected of me, and far too much interest in tending injured animals. My father could not comprehend why his son should prefer nursing a wounded dog to cultivating the accomplishments of a gentleman.”

Cordelia studied him, aghast. “But surely he could not have objected to your showing compassion?”

“I was the son of an earl, and he expected me to conduct myself accordingly. In his opinion, I was wasting my time, my resources, and whatever prospects I possessed of becoming a respectable member of society.”

“That is absurd.”

“I quite agree.”

She could scarcely imagine anyone looking upon this beautiful estate and regarding it as a disgrace. “What did you do?”

George’s mouth quirked in a cynical smile. “I decided that if I wished to pursue something my father considered foolish, I ought to possess the means to do so without requiring his permission.”

She studied him. “You became financially independent?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Investments, primarily. Shipping, manufacturing, and a few ventures that proved rather more profitable than I anticipated.”

“And you used your fortune to create this place?”

“Seaview Manor required considerable restoration when I acquired it, but the land was extensive, and the buildings were sound enough. It seemed an ideal place to begin.”

Cordelia glanced toward the distant manor house. “You purchased this estate yourself? It is not part of your father’s entailed properties?”

“It is not. Everything here was paid for from my own fortune.”

She was astonished. Most gentlemen of his station would have been content to await their inheritance, yet George had established his independence to pursue a passion his father considered foolish and society regarded as eccentric. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Several years.”

A lump grew in her throat as she stared at him. “You never mentioned any of it during our many conversations over chess.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He regarded her for a moment. “It is not a part of myself I readily share. You would be surprised how many people consider compassion for animals a foolish indulgence.”

“Then they are fools,” she said softly.

His mouth curved. “An opinion I have occasionally entertained myself. When I observed you with Sir Charles, I suspected you might be one of those rare creatures who would understand.”