7
Several months ago, the first time Peregrine came to the Cotswolds, he had to keep reminding himself he was not actually a visitor, but a resident. Ashbridge Heath, the ancestral estate of the Earls of Rutland, was one of many fine properties in the area. Peregrine stepped into the foyer of his new home, still feeling like a stranger, but a welcomed one.
“We’re so glad to have you back, my lord,” his butler, Mr. Burton, said with a thin but honest smile.
Two butlers—one for London and one for the country.
Peregrine nearly laughed at the decadent absurdity of it all. But he was glad to be here too. He’d discovered on his first visit that the Cotswolds seemed to have a living spirit all its own, both in the people who lived and worked the land. On market days, the little village street
