Chapter Eleven
Three days later
Daventry
Christopher stood in his empty library and stared out the window.
It was obvious that his new estate had once been very prosperous.
Unfortunately, it no longer was. The back gardens had been left to overgrow for years and the tenants were on the brink of starvation.
Winter made the circumstances even worse.
He’d let most of the servants go at Mr. Riley’s advice and was happy to turn over the new staffing to the older man.
Mr. Riley had grown up on the estate from a child and loved it openly, which was an advantage.
The other advantage Christopher had was his solicitor. Mr. Morton had brought him three capable stewards, none of whom were also named Mr. Morton. The wily man must have had his younger brother use a different name so as not to influence the selection.
Christopher was most impressed with Mr. Wood and felt at ease with him immediately, but he was quite sure Mr. Wood wasn’t his solicitor’s brother.
Another candidate had the same lean build and narrow face as his solicitor, only with a smaller nose.
Now Christopher waited to let his solicitor know who would have the position.
He just hoped he wouldn’t lose Mr. Morton over it.
Lately, every step forward he made in reaching his goal ended in a step backward, and he was anxious to be done with backward steps.
He turned back to look at the room he’d spent the entire morning in.
The walls were covered in empty bookcases.
On the mantel sat a broken bust of Cicero, and an empty vase decorated an ornate wooden stand in the corner.
The only furniture in the room was the large, immovable desk, and two chairs that Morton had brought in from the dining room.
Not only would Christopher have to get the estate running again, but he’d need to furnish most of the house.
The only rooms upstairs that had any furniture were the former lady’s rooms, and since the last owner wasn’t married, the décor was from the former generation.
At least there was a bed, not that he’d have time to sleep in it on this visit.
His quandary was that he hadn’t expected the expenses that were adding up in his head just to make the place function again.
If it weren’t for the quick thinking of Mr. Morton, he wouldn’t even have had the funds to hire new staff.
Even as he thought of the man, Mr. Morton walked in. “You wished to speak with me, my lord?”
“I do. I have made up my mind on the steward I wish to hire. Please, have a seat.”
As Mr. Morton crossed the room and sat in one of the two chairs, Christopher strode toward the desk and leaned against the front, not willing to put the large piece of furniture between himself and his valued steward.
“I gave each man serious consideration and I commend you on finding me three superb candidates.”
“I’m pleased they were to your liking, sir.”
When Mr. Morton didn’t say any more, Christopher steeled himself for the man’s reaction, hoping he wouldn’t have to find a new solicitor next.
“Though all three would do very well, there was one man that I felt most comfortable with. This is something I was advised was important in hiring a new steward.”
Mr. Morton didn’t move an inch at that.
“I’ve decided to hire Mr. Wood.”
Mr. Morton’s lips lifted in a knowing smile. “A good choice, my lord.”
Surprised by the man’s reaction, Christopher frowned. “You appear pleased.”
“I am. Mr. Wood is my brother.”
“I thought the taller man was your brother. He resembles you in some aspects.”
Mr. Morton grinned. “My brother and I do not look alike, as my mother was widowed shortly after I was born. In fact, Mr. Wood is indeed my brother.”
Pleased that he had both the best steward for his estate and was able to keep his solicitor, Christopher pushed away from the desk. “I’d offer you a drink to celebrate, but I fear there are no spirits that I could find.”
Mr. Morton rose. “Perhaps next time. Right now, I wish to give my brother the news. I know he will be anxious to start. Do you wish him to meet with you now or in Bedford?”
“We already discussed the first steps, so he’s aware of his duties.” Christopher grinned. “Let him celebrate tonight and start fresh tomorrow. I need to get back to Bedford and attend to my responsibilities there.”
Mr. Morton held out his hand. “Thank you, my lord. You will not regret your choice.”
Christopher gripped the man’s hand before waving him out.
No sooner had Mr. Morton left the room than Mr. Riley stepped in. “Would you like me to have your coach brought around, sir?”
“Do I have a groomsman already to do that?”
The older man smiled. “Indeed, you do.”
Now feeling like a lord of his rather dilapidated domain, Christopher nodded. “Then please do.”
“Very good. And might I suggest a stop at the Loose Goose Inn for a pleasant meal on your way back to Bedford?”
“Riley, that is an excellent suggestion.”
Riley gave a short nod and left the room.
Christopher smiled. He’d made only forward steps toward his future, which pleased him.
He couldn’t wait to get back to the school so he could tell Lady Sophie about his progress.
In his mind, he envisioned her green eyes twinkling with delight as her soft lips lifted in a smile, genuinely happy for him.
What would she think of his estate? Would she be able to see its potential or would she find it sad?
His instinct told him it would be the former.
Anxious to have his belief confirmed, he strode out of the library, down the corridor, and into the entryway.
After Riley helped him on with his coat, he walked outside into the cold, sunny afternoon and entered the Silver Meadows coach.
As much as he’d like to stop and have a meal, he wished to get back before everyone retired, if possible.
Despite the brisk pace of the coach, a change of horses took longer than expected. As Christopher descended from the conveyance, he could tell the school’s occupants had retired for the night. Disappointed, he climbed the grand steps to the front doors, which opened before him.
“Lord Tamworth, it is good to have you back.”
Christopher shrugged out of his greatcoat and let Harrison take it. “Has everyone retired, then?”
“Mostly, my lord. Mr. Billings and Mrs. Evans are in the instructor study, but Lord and Lady Sommerset have gone to their rooms, as have the students.”
Swallowing his disappointment, he nodded.
“Thank you, Harrison.” He climbed up the stairs to his room, trying to convince himself that a few hours’ wait was not so long after all.
It wasn’t so easy to meet with Lady Sophie in a way that kept her reputation and allowed them to talk freely.
He needed time to figure out how to manage a conversation with her.
As he reached his door, his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in hours.
If he waited for a tray, he could well be beyond hungry.
Making his decision, he turned on his heel and headed back down to the entryway, but Harrison was nowhere in sight.
Not too worried, as he knew where the servant corridor was, he headed that way and down the stairs, where he smelled the remnants of cooked meat, but he wasn’t sure what kind.
His stomach growled, obviously not happy with the delay.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and followed his nose. As he stepped into the main kitchen, he halted. Lady Sophie sat at a wooden table for six across from what appeared to be a servant. The servant had her hand over the lady’s.
The servant spotted him, causing Lady Sophie to look over her shoulder, her eyes widening in alarm. “Lord Tamworth.”
“Lady Sophie, how fortunate to find you here.”
Immediately, she rose, a blush filling her cheeks. “I should go to my room.”
The servant looked at him. She was more mature than he’d first thought. He brought his gaze back to Sophie. “Please don’t. I wish to tell you of my trip.”
The servant rose as well, a secretive smile on her face. “My lord, I am Mrs. Boyd, the cook. Did you wish something to eat?”
At the sight of Sophie, he’d forgotten his reason for coming to the kitchens, but a pain in his stomach reminded him. “I would. Nothing elaborate. Some bread and cheese would be fine.”
“Then please take my chair and keep Lady Sophie company while I get you a plate.”
He raised his brows, surprised by the woman’s offer. The cook back at his family’s home would rouse at least three people with such a request. “I would be happy to.”
Mrs. Boyd quickly headed to the fireplace and stoked the coals. He held his hand out to Sophie, indicating her chair. “Please, sit. I would very much like to talk to you about my progress.”
She looked at Mrs. Boyd, who bustled about the warm room, before finally retaking her seat. “As long as Mrs. Boyd is here, I suppose it would be acceptable.”
He was about to promise to be a gentleman, but around her, he was never sure what he would do. “Thank you.”
“It was successful, then, your trip?”
He sat opposite her, in the chair vacated by the cook, the table much narrower than any formal dining table. From where he sat, he could smell her vanilla scent, which played havoc with his thoughts. “It was.”
As she looked expectantly at him, he couldn’t help noticing how dark her green eyes looked in the lantern light.
“Lord Tamworth? How was it successful?”
He blinked to get his mind back on track. “In many ways. As we discussed, I had spoken with my brother and Lord Hopton on the best and worst qualities of their stewards. The first was much more forthcoming, though far too curious about why I wished to know.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The same that I told Lord Hopton, that I had a student who needed advice on hiring one.”
Her shapely brown eyebrows lowered. “You lied.”