When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,29
scullery maid.”
“The housekeeper is apparently on bedrest recovering from an illness, else I’m sure the staff would have been less inclined to gossip. What has you in a swither?”
For all his charm, Stephen had also inherited a Wentworth’s portion of tenacity.
“This place.” And that woman. “You’re in time for dinner, and the fire in the family parlor is kept lit. Let’s leave Their Graces for the nonce and you can interrogate me in private.” Until Miss Maddie joined them, not that Stephen would exercise much discretion before a lady.
“Have you missed me?” Stephen asked, leading the way into the corridor. “I’ve missed you. Nobody to lecture me about the history of every village I pass through or every vintage I have sent up from the wine cellar. Nobody to cast a pall of gloom over every weather report. Your dour nature is soothingly predictable.”
“While your company is a circle of purgatory not even the denizens of Newgate would choose over incarceration.”
To appearances, Stephen was merry, irreverent, and thick-skinned. Closer acquaintance, which had taken Duncan years to achieve, revealed a brilliant young man plagued by bouts of melancholia and in constant physical pain.
“You have missed me,” Stephen observed, as they processed down the hallway. “You might have sent a fellow a note: Dear Lord Purgatory: In over my head with this estate management nonsense. Plato’s wisdom unavailing. Make haste to my side. My love to your horse, Cousin Dunderpate.”
“When I walk beside you, I am forced by the decorous pace you set to notice my surroundings,” Duncan said. “That deal table, for example, is probably three hundred years old. Some wealthy merchant lusting for acceptance among the squires will pay good money for it.”
Stephen thumped past the table in question. “We can make an inventory in order of ugliness. You should be glad Quinn and Jane didn’t come with me. I had a devil of a time convincing them not to break out the traveling coach.”
Duncan waited at the top of the steps while Stephen got his cane organized into his right hand so he could grasp the bannister with his left. If Stephen’s physical progress through life was slower than that of other men, his mental progress outpaced a swift on the wing.
“Quinn and Jane would never travel this time of year with the baby,” Duncan said. “I trust Artemis is in good health?” The question was carefully timed for when Stephen had to watch every step, the better to spare Duncan’s dignity.
“Little bugger is fat and jolly. Jane has to instruct Quinn on the need to maintain some dignity in the nursery, or our duke would spend all his time singing lullabies and reading fairy tales. Could this house be any colder, Duncan?”
“This is balmy compared to three days ago. How’s the leg?” Another question timed to preserve the dignity of all concerned.
“It reaches the floor,” Stephen said. “No better, no worse. I’ll not be leaving you until the weather has cleared up. Snow and ice are the very devil, and mud is no improvement.”
Even rain made Stephen’s life more difficult. “You are welcome for as long as you care to remain. I honestly have no idea how to go on with the estate business, which Quinn ought to have realized before he devised my penance.”
“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Stephen said, rounding the landing. “Money comes in, money goes out. The object of the game is to bring more in than you send out.”
“Thank you for that penetrating insight. Though how do you determine whether the sums reported by your stewards, tenants, farmers, and factors are accurate, and not the result of some creative accounting which they’ve had ten years to put in place?”
“You suspect fraud?”
“For God’s sake, Stephen. Brightwell was a lamb to slaughter when the old duke’s faculties failed. The house staff is trustworthy, but I can smell the speculation from my land steward. Everybody from the dairyman to the gamekeeper to the swineherd is waiting to see whether I’m wise to their schemes.”
Stephen started down the next flight. “You apparently are. What will you do about it?”
“Shovel snow, groom my horse, wrestle portraits.” Fret about Miss Maddie.
“And your efforts to date have solved nothing.”
“If I sack the swindlers working for me now, a new lot of swindlers will take their places. I need only make this place profitable for one year, and I’m free to go about my business.”
The stairwell became colder as they descended, and because the sun was setting, the