Chapter 1 #4
She saw the calculation in the pause. He could dismiss her. He could claim family privacy, ducal prerogative, or simple ignorance. All three would leave her with twenty-six beds and fourteen days.
“There are rumors,” he said. “Nothing more has been put before me.”
“Rumors that you are not the duke?”
A kitchen maid drew in breath at the rear arch.
The duke did not look away. “Rumors that someone may benefit from making every action I take appear disputed.”
“And Sir Reginald has placed them in a notice before anyone has placed them before you.”
“Yes.”
His answer was clipped enough to end sympathy and honest enough to invite none.
Margaret glanced at his wet coat, the water on the marble, and the hand holding the notice without tremor. He had concealed the effort of standing after helping Thomas. He concealed this as well.
She disliked concealed weakness because it frequently became another person’s emergency.
She respected restraint when it spared the vulnerable man rather than the powerful one.
At present, she could not tell which kind his was.
The duke folded the notice along its existing crease.
“I came to make a courtesy inspection of my aunt’s trust.”
“A courtesy inspection.”
“Yes.”
“Sir Reginald has saved you the courtesy.”
“So it appears.”
“And the inspection?”
His gaze traveled beyond her to the store corridor, where Joseph’s slate remained visible beneath his arm. To the timber being carried east. To the men along the gallery, who had not dispersed merely because a duke might prefer privacy.
When he looked back at Margaret, his expression had altered less than his purpose.
“The inspection begins now.”
“With the accounts?”
“With the House.”
“Those are not always the same thing.”
“I have gathered as much.”
He handed the notice back. “I require the founding deed, every general account for the past year, the subscription book, repair estimates, current workshop contracts, and a room in which to examine them.”
“The resident histories are private.”
“I did not ask for them.”
“You asked for every account.”
“Then I amend the request. Every financial account within the trust’s proper authority.”
Margaret studied him.
A duke had entered without notice and asked permission after crossing the threshold.
A colonel had gathered a clerk’s papers from the floor without pretending the act conferred intimacy.
The duke named in the trust instrument had been handed evidence that his authority might be challenged and had not yet ordered anyone to reassure him.
None of that made him safe.
It made him worth observing.
“The former map room is dry except during an east wind,” she said. “Today’s wind is from the north.”
“It will serve.”
“It has a desk, one sound chair, and no fire laid.”
“I shall need a fire.”
“We have three days of coal.”
His gaze flicked toward the darkened sconce and back to her. “Then no fire until the day’s work requires one.”
“The room is cold.”
“So is the hall.”
“The hall is not expected to understand a deed.”
Something almost moved at the corner of his mouth. “You consider warmth an aid to legal interpretation?”
“I consider frozen ink an impediment.”
“Lay the fire, then. Small.”
Margaret folded her arms. “You do not yet direct the household, Your Grace.”
The hall seemed to listen.
His footman became fascinated by the fastening of a travelling case.
The duke’s public face settled into something spare and formal. “No. I do not.”
Margaret had expected argument. Agreement was more inconvenient.
He continued, “Will you permit my servant to bring dry clothes to the map room?”
“Yes.”
“Will you provide the deed and accounts?”
“The deed, if it is in Sir Reginald’s deed box, cannot be provided by me. I have a clerk’s copy.”
“That will begin.”
“The general ledgers and subscription book may be inspected. The workshop contracts may be inspected in Mr. Hales’s presence until he agrees otherwise.”
Joseph gave a grunt that might have signified approval or the expectation of disappointment.
“And the repair estimates?” the duke asked.
“I shall bring them.”
“Mrs. Ellison.”
“Your Grace.”
“I am not asking you to surrender management.”
“Not yet.”
“No.”
The directness of it pressed harder than reassurance.
Margaret moved aside from the entrance to the store corridor.
“You may inspect Waterloo House,” she said. “You may ask questions of anyone willing to answer them. You may read every account you have a lawful right to read.”
“And if I give an instruction?”
“I shall consider whether it is useful.”
The duke glanced at the men watching from the gallery, then at Joseph, Sarah in the rear arch, Thomas with his ordered papers, and finally Margaret.
“You have been doing so for eleven months?”
“I have been doing considerably more than considering.”
He inclined his head.
“Then I had better learn what.”
Margaret turned toward the map room with the closure notice in her pocket and a duke following at a measured pace behind her.
Fourteen days remained.
It was not enough time to trust him.
It was sufficient time to put him to work.