to bother you, knowing you were needed in London. But, after Mr. Blake attended a local art exhibit last autumn, his disinterest in managing your estate affairs has magnified at an alarming rate.”
He waved his arm toward Bellamere’s vast gardens. “Everything here seems to be in order.”
She peered over the grounds below. “Yes, your steward likes his comforts.”
“And the tenants? How have they fared?” He suspected he knew the answer already, given the conversation he had overheard.
“They grow increasingly disgruntled, my lord.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’ve placed you in an untenable situation?”
“I don’t mind confronting Mr. Blake,” she said. “I actually look forward to our tête-à-têtes. My household all but runs itself these days, so addressing your tenants’ concerns has given me something else to focus my mind on.”
“How do I respond to such a statement?” he asked. “You’re welcome doesn’t seem quite right.”
“What I have done is of little concern,” she said. “Grayson, on the other hand, has to work with the man and try to keep the peace within the household.”
Sebastian had a deep affection for the old retainer and did not like hearing about the butler’s undue frustration. “I take it Mr. Blake not only absconded with my study but a suite of rooms as well.”
“How did you know?”
“It’s obvious the steward’s cottage would not be sufficient for his needs.” He released a sigh. “It appears I have much to rectify in my short visit.”
“A man in your position should be able to trust those in his employ to see to his interests.”
Her defense caught him off guard, and his grip tightened on the balustrade. “You are much too kind, I assure you, Mrs. Ashcroft. We both know I have a duty to the sound management of this estate, one of which is placing qualified individuals into positions of importance.” He paused a moment. “But I thank you for the encouragement, all the same. And I appreciate your intervention with Mr. Blake.”
“You’re welcome, my lord.”
She took a step back, and that’s when Sebastian realized the gap between their bodies was achingly small. He straightened.
“I’ve been keeping a list of items needing your steward’s attention.” She retrieved a folded piece of paper from the depths of her beaded reticule. “You might find this of use as you move forward.”
Taken aback, Sebastian peered at her offering with a mix of wariness and wonder.
“My lord?”
He reached for the list. “Thank you.”
He studied her neat writing and counted twenty-seven items. “You are quite organized, Mrs. Ashcroft. An admirable trait.” She had structured the information into a series of columns, noting the item in need of repair, the tenant’s name, when Mr. Blake was notified, dates she’d checked on the projects’ progress—
His gaze narrowed on the last column labeled Date Completed. The column that held not a single date. “Mr. Blake has failed to address all of these repairs?”
“I’m afraid so, my lord.”
“Some of these date back to a year ago.”
She held his gaze, her silence ringing louder than a death knell. Then she said, “Thankfully the older repairs are more aesthetic in nature. As you can see, the bridge repair occupies the first slot. The farther you go down the list, the less priority the repairs hold.”
Frustration coiled inside his muscles. Damn his steward’s incompetence. The relaxation he’d experienced upon seeing his estate was nothing more than a vague memory. “I’m grateful for your attention to my tenants’ needs, Mrs. Ashcroft. Is there anything I might do for you in return?”
A look of bewilderment crossed her face. “N-no, sir. Attending to those items is more than enough.”
“You are rather easy to please, Mrs. Ashcroft.”
She chuckled low, but the sound held little humor. “On the contrary, my lord. I’m told I’m quite difficult to please.”
“Then it is their failure, not yours, madam.” Sebastian experienced an ungovernable need to ask for the name of anyone who had made such a callous statement, so he could drag him back here by the scruff of his miserable neck to apologize.
She sent him an appreciative smile before fixing her gaze on the horizon, toward her home. “I must be off. I promised my daughter a stroll to the lake before dinner.”
Mention of her daughter had the same effect as sleet rolling down his spine. Somehow he had to find a way to honor Ashcroft’s request of watching over his family without becoming personally involved. For their safety and his sanity.
“She fares well, too, I hope.”
“More than well, my lord.” The somber edges of her