warn his staff of his arrival. Waiting for his chambers to be aired and linens to be laid seemed like an eternity to his crumbling strength.
By the time his foot hit the top step, though, his aging butler materialized. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Grayson.” Sebastian smiled at his former accomplice to unspoken crimes, taking in the stooped quality of his shoulders and the deep grooves in his forehead. The man appeared to have aged a score of years since his last visit. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“Indeed not, sir. Rucker sent word ahead.”
“Of course he did.” Sebastian must remember to give his London butler an extra day off for his welcome, albeit insubordinate, forethought. “Then you know Parker is following behind with my luggage.”
“Indeed, sir. We’ll be on the watch for your valet.” Grayson waved his age-spotted hand toward the open door. “Per your preference, my lord, I did not assemble the staff.” His butler did an admirable job of keeping his displeasure out of his tone. “However, they are ready to serve you as needed.”
Nodding, Sebastian said, “Well done, Grayson.” He had never favored the custom of pulling the servants from their duties to line up in neat rows to bow and dip toward their employer as he majestically strolled down their center. A bunch of useless rot, as Danforth would say.
Entering the spacious Great Hall, Sebastian found it as much unchanged as the exterior of the manor. Built during the virgin queen’s reign, the Great Hall was designed to leave its visitors speechless. And it did. Whether in awe or horror depended on one’s fondness for ostentatious trimmings.
Even though he’d spent much of his childhood here, his gaze still roamed over the twin marble columns stretching three stories high. Wide Flemish tapestries lined both sides of the room, covering the upper portion of the walls, and a twenty-foot trellis table sat center-stage before a fireplace large enough to harbor an average-sized man.
His ancestors had a flair for the extravagant—not really to his taste, but he held fond memories of Bellamere Park and would always consider this his true home. He’d been away far too long, he realized with some regret.
Raised, muffled voices down the corridor drew his attention.
“That would be Mr. Blake, my lord,” Grayson said.
“In my study?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is he with a tenant?”
“No, my lord.” Grayson’s pale blue gaze shifted to the distant closed door. “Mr. Blake is speaking with your neighbor.”
Sebastian’s heart jolted. “Jeffrey Ashcroft’s widow?”
“Yes, sir.”
Removing his gloves, Sebastian strove for calm. Thoughts of his fatigue evaporated. He hadn’t expected to see her this soon, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to be covered in road dust at their first meeting. “What business does Mrs. Ashcroft have with my steward?”
“More of the same, I suspect.”
He stared at his butler, wondering how he was supposed to decipher the man’s remark when he hadn’t set foot on his estate in years. Pulling in a fortifying breath, he turned to find out and did his damnedest to keep his pace even, unhurried. “Thank you, Grayson. That will be all.”
As he neared his study, he noted the door was ajar. The agitated conversation from within wafted through the opening, reaching him.
“The railing is completely missing, Mr. Blake,” a female voice said. “Garry Lucas came close to tumbling through the small opening and falling into the river.”
“But he didn’t, Mrs. Ashcroft,” the steward said. “Had Garry’s mother kept a better eye on her son, we would not be having this conversation.”
“Mr. Blake, you know as well as I that the northern bridge is a favorite thoroughfare to the village for the children.”
Sebastian recognized Mrs. Ashcroft’s voice. He leaned closer to the opening.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“You said the bridge railing would be fixed a fortnight ago.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“When might we expect its repair, Mr. Blake?”
“Mmm… soon.”
“Could you please put down your brush and honor me with your full attention, sir?” Her voice held a warning edge.
The steward answered with a deep sigh, followed by the clattering sound of wood against wood. “I have heard your every word, Mrs. Ashcroft, and have responded accordingly. What else do you want from me?”
“Action, Mr. Blake. I want you to care for his lordship’s tenants as is your responsibility.”
“I know my responsibility.”
“Then why do you ignore it?”
Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. The side of his cheek pressed against the door frame, bringing his ear closer to the conversation. He hoped Grayson or one of the other servants didn’t happen by and see him eavesdropping in his own home.
“I do not ignore my duties,