James, Earl of Crofton

by Rebecca Cohen

  “You intimated you knew more earlier.”

  “True. However, I thought it a useful exaggeration if it might persuade Lady Crofton she would be better off being away for a while.”

  James had to admit it had worked. Although his mother had not agreed yet, he expected her to do so in the morning. Adam’s presence was another important factor, he was sure of it. “My mother was taken with you, though it helped she knew your father. Seems that many people do.”

  “He was a good man. We may not always have seen eye to eye—especially in matters of matrimony—but I am proud to be his son.”

  “You did mention that the plague had saved you from an ill-matched marriage. General Dowson must have been very keen to see you married if he insisted. It is not uncommon to have a bride chosen for you, but usually you should be able to stomach being in the same room as them. My parents tried to find me a willing wife, although not successfully, but they have never suggested someone I would have found abhorrent.”

  Adam wore a rueful smile. “I am sure your parents turned a blind eye to your activities at court because they knew your gaze could fall as easily upon a young lady as a young man. My father became aware his son had no taste for women and he wanted me attached to one quickly to avoid any scandal.”

  “I see.”

  “No you don’t. Your escapades at court are considered exciting and enchanting. Your rank protects you. I am not a noble.”

  “There may be some truth in your words.” James hadn’t thought too much about Adam’s past, well not in the sense of the lovers he’d taken being male or female. But he’d suspected Adam had not rebuffed his advances because he was a man.

  “Some truth? Come now.”

  “Very well. There are many men like me at court, but I am by no means the most outrageous. My family love a grand tale, the more unbelievable the better.”

  “You intrigue me. What hides in the dark corners of the Redbourn family?”

  There were many stories, but one came readily to mind. “I do not know if it is really true or not, my father never mentioned it, so perhaps the details are buried in the mounds of letters and diaries squirreled away in the hall, or it was made up to give me the encouragement I needed. But my grandfather told me a story about his father, the first earl, Anthony. He’d caught me in a state of despair at a time I believed David did not want me, the added problem of my love being a man made me coy when asked of my troubles.”

  “I did not think you capable of being coy.”

  James ignored him and continued. “My grandfather was a shrewd man. He knew where my eyes had landed and told me I should follow my heart like his father had done. I scoffed at the idea, because Anthony Redbourn had three wives, so he was hardly in the situation I found myself in.”

  “Clearly not.”

  “Then he proceeded to tell me that Anthony’s second wife, Bronwyn, was really a man called Sebastian. The twin brother masquerading as his sister. After a while ‘Bronwyn’ died and Sebastian remained close to his brother-in-law until his death.”

  Adam laughed outright. “And you believed him?”

  “I don’t know.” James had thought about the story many times; he wanted it to be true. “There is a picture of the Hewel twins in the long gallery, and Sebastian Hewel was a member of the King’s Men and by all accounts a very gifted actor. Anthony carried a reputation of not caring what others thought of him, so if anyone could have made it happen, it would’ve been him.”

  “It is a lovely fairy tale. It seems the Redbourn men have a good tradition of forging their own path.”

  “That is a polite way of saying we do not care as long as we get our own way.”

  “Like every other noble family.”

  James leaned forwards. “But you haven’t let me have my own way—yet.”

  Adam licked his lips and his nostrils flared, before he took a deep breath and steepled his fingers. “I understood you asked me here to discuss your household. Perhaps we could begin with Clement the steward. Then I can speak to Lady Crofton before supper.”

  James wouldn’t push, but he was thrilled to see Adam’s reaction, clearly tempted and trying to maintain his decorum. It wouldn’t be too long before Adam would relent. Working in close proximity, James was sure their mutual attraction would burn through in the end. James retrieved a piece of paper and pen from the unlocked top drawer of his desk, then gave Adam what he hoped was his most beguiling smile. “Let us begin.”

  Chapter 17

  James hadn’t slept well, his mind too busy to settle into a deep slumber. By the time Remembrance brought breakfast he’d been awake for several hours, unable to stop his overwhelming thoughts. Dressed, he headed to his study, sending Remembrance to collect Adam. He saw no need to delay further. He was up and ready to go, so now was the time to introduce Adam to Clement and then let Adam go to work on his light-fingered steward.

  He spent a few minutes writing letters—the earldom came with far more tedious administration than he could stomach and he would need to engage a secretary. When Adam arrived he looked far more refreshed than James felt.

  “Good morning,” said Adam, taking a seat. “Early start I see. It is a good strategy. Your steward will probably think you will be idling your mornings away; it will misdirect him.”

  “I take exception to the idling. A man of my activities needs his sleep.” He yawned.

  “It is a pity, then, that you are not getting enough.”

  “I did not think you were concerned with my sleeping arrangements.”

  Adam laughed and shook his head. “You know that not to be the case. Now, tell me about Clement.”

  “I do admire a man dedicated to his duty,” James drawled. “As I told you, my dealings with Clement have been limited. My father took care of the estate while I was more involved in the family’s London business, but he did approach me before I left for London.”

  “So you must have an impression of the man.”

  James took a few moments to think, but he doubted Adam would be impressed with his conclusion. “He is a servant, polite enough when it matters, and when he came to me he said all the correct things and offered help of the type that would be expected of a man in his position.”

  “It was still a bold move to come to you, rather than wait to be called.”

  James hadn’t thought of it like that, but Adam was right. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

  “If I were in his position, I would also try to ingratiate myself with the new earl. It shows a certain level of cunning.”

  “True.”

  “Your mother was no more forthcoming about him,” Adam said with an air of exasperation. “Her opinion of the man was generally positive, but nothing that would help me. This means I need to engage him on a different level. He may not trust me at first, but there are ways and means.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked James, intrigued by Adam’s plan. There was something undeniably attractive about an intelligent man.

  “If I were to befriend him, intimate how he could make more money by misleading a young inexperienced master, especially one I already have some influence over…. I will need to gauge if it is possible once I meet him.”

  “Then call for the man of the hour.”

  They didn’t have to wait long for Clement to arrive. Adam sprang to his feet as the door opened, but James remained seated.

  “You sent for me, my lord?”

  “Evidently so.” James did not offer him the option to sit. “I wish to thank you for the lists you provided. They have gone some way in helping me understand the running of the estate. However, I also realise I still have much to cover, and to that end, I expect your full cooperation with my advisor, Mr Dowson.”

  Adam inclined his head in greeting. “Mr Clement.”

  Clement glanced at Adam. “As I said, I am at your service. But, with respect, my lord, as steward I would be the man who could advise you and give guidance on estate matters.”

 
The response was only to be expected. Adam would be considered an interloper, with ideas that could challenge Clement. “Please do not concern yourself, it is merely an opportunity to have someone look upon the estate with fresh eyes.”

  Adam stepped forwards. “Indeed, the estate is profitable under your watch, Mr Clement. I only wish to make it even more so. There are so many ways an estate can profit from the correct management. And I hope we can remove the burden of worry from his lordship, working together to deliver the best outcome for all involved.”

  Adam had deliberately spoken so that the meaning could be construed in different ways. He was trying to make an ally in Clement from the start, and from Clement’s expression it looked to be working.

  “You are well-versed in the running of a large house?”

  “There is little I have not seen. But while I have not known his lordship for long, I believe I have his trust.”

  Another carefully weighted sentence. James willingly played along. “Oh indeed. I have been known to defer to Mr Dowson in many areas. I, after all, still have much to learn. Mr Dowson is the son of General Dowson, who was a great ally to my father and grandfather. It is only natural I would trust him.”

  He needed to be careful not to overplay his naivety. While Clement would know he had taken little interest in the running of the estate, he might be aware of his business in London. James was not known to be a stupid man, and he needed to be careful not to act too dull-witted.

  “I think it a marvellous idea to appraise the running of the hall from time to time and, as you say, Mr Dowson has an esteemed heritage to call upon,” Clement said, sounding sincere. “Of course you can call on me to support all your future plans for the estate.”

  His skin itched as Clement stood in front of him, wearing a smile so false it made James’s teeth ache. Clement was acting as chief sycophant, but it did appear he had taken the bait Adam had begun to lay.

  “Your cooperation will be rewarded. I appreciate your dedication to the Redbourn family.”

  “Perhaps,” began Adam, “we could excuse ourselves and let his lordship spend his time in a more suitable way. I would be keen to begin to get to know the estate better. I also have a number of contacts in both St Albans and Hertford that may be of interest.”

  James waved his hand in an act of dismissal. “Very good. I will expect a daily report from you over supper.”

  Left alone, James once more found himself at a loose end. In London he would have headed to court or South Bank to find amusement, but Crofton Hall didn’t have that sort of entertainment at hand. He wrote several more letters, including one to Marchent, asking if he would honour him with a visit, but he needed to do more to entertain himself.

  A ride out would be good. It had been too long since he had traversed the borders of the estate, and refreshing his knowledge of his lands would be a valuable use of his time. Once changed into suitable riding attire, he made his way to the stables. His mind wandered to thoughts of arranging a hunt for the local nobles in the coming weeks. There was an expectation he would be a welcoming host, but until now he’d had little appetite for it. He chose a chestnut mare. She’d been his father’s favourite horse, and he, too, had enjoyed riding her when he’d had the opportunity. Her temperament and build were suitable for what he had in mind.

  The lands surrounding the hall had required significant attention when they’d returned from the continent, boundaries reaffirmed, arable pastures re-sown and labourers employed, and his father’s perseverance had returned the estate to the prosperity it had enjoyed before they’d left.

  He picked his way around the east border where the woodland was at its densest, enjoying the sunshine and wrapped up against the slight chill in the air. The going was firm and the horse had no issues with the terrain, but as the light began to fade, he thought it time to return to the house.

  Something not quite right in the undergrowth caught his eye. He dismounted and approached a large pile of leaves that couldn’t have naturally arranged themselves in such a fashion. He pushed farther in, surprised after only a few steps to come across a small area that had been cleared. Even with the fading light, the patches of scorched ground were an obvious sign of a campsite, the area big enough for several men to have made camp there. James had nothing against the odd traveller using his lands to pass a night, but he couldn’t shake the idea this was no lone wanderer needing shelter. He scuffed his boot against the raised, blackened earth, disturbing the contents. A few animal bones had been carefully buried, along with what looked like the remains of an old coat. Whoever had camped there had tried to cover their tracks, and James could only think it was for a nefarious purpose.

  A crack of twigs behind him made him spin, but there was no one there, the shadows and his uncertainty playing tricks on him. He retreated to his horse, keen to get back to the hall. He wanted to discuss his findings with Adam and learn what Adam had found out from Clement.

  Since his mother had retired to bed early, citing a headache and having to make plans to visit her close friends on the morrow, James decided to have supper in his room. It afforded the privacy he needed to talk to Adam without the servants listening. Remembrance was tidying away his clothes when he entered. “Ah, good. I don’t need to send for you.”

  “My lord?”

  “I’ll have supper here tonight. Inform Mr Dowson of the arrangements. He is already aware that I expect him to dine with me.”

  Remembrance wrinkled his nose. “I’ll bring up the tray myself.”

  Bringing him his supper would have been one of Remembrance’s duties, but there was something about the way he said it that caught James by surprise. “Is there something bothering you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”

  “Come now. You’ve never held your tongue before. I’d rather hear your grievances.”

  Remembrance huffed and averted his eyes. “The servants here aren’t like the ones in London.”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t know. They’re different somehow. Most of them look at me as if I’m up to something, and I don’t like it.” Remembrance glanced up at him. “Then there’s the thing with the maids and the trays.”

  James had no idea Remembrance felt so isolated here, or what he meant about the maids. “What about them?”

  Once again Remembrance looked away. “Well, when the lasses in London bring you your food, you know you’re going to get everything that came from the kitchen. Here it seems they feel it’s their right to sneak things off the tray. It ain’t right, my lord.”

  Remembrance hadn’t been in service as long as some of his servants, and it was his honesty and openness that had endeared James to him, but Remembrance was not as experienced as others who could have filled the role and he guessed some of the other servants might not approve of James’s choice. “You should not take such things to heart. A few crumbs here or there will not harm me.”

  “It is a slippery slope. First an apple, what next? Your purse or one of your watches?”

  James couldn’t stop the soft chuckle escaping. “You are a good man, and I appreciate your concern, but it not something to dwell on.”

  “Then why is Mr Dowson here?”

  Remembrance was not daft, but James hadn’t reckoned on him being shrewd enough to question Adam’s presence. Any other servant wouldn’t have dared ask, but then they weren’t Remembrance. “That also is not your concern.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He sounded doubtful, but he was at least learning some decorum. “But if there is something, I would avail myself to help.”

  “I know you would. If something were to arise where you could help, I assure you, I would not hesitate to involve you.” He smiled as Remembrance stood a little taller. “But for now, all I really need is my supper.”

  For a moment he thought Remembrance might argue, but he seemed satisfied. “I’ll be right back, my lord. Supper for two is on its way.”

  Once alone, James loosen
ed his neckerchief and slipped off his jacket, enough to be more comfortable but still dressed correctly given the privacy of his room. He had just settled into a chair with a glass of claret and the notes he’d made on his return from his ride out when Adam arrived, entering the room as if to be as unnoticed as possible.

  “Your manservant is certainly an interesting character. Refreshing in a way, but you might want to make sure he knows the correct decorum.” Adam chuckled. “I don’t mind being told to get to your rooms with colourful language, but I doubt some of your other acquaintances would find it as refreshing.”

  “Believe it or not, what you have witnessed is a marked improvement.”

  “Good Lord, then he should be thankful he’s lasted this long. I’m surprised you keep him about.”

  “As you say, Remembrance’s ways are refreshing. His loyalty is unwavering and given the others in this house, I’ll take him over polite but untrustworthy.”

  “There is something to be said for that,” Adam said, sitting in the neighbouring chair.

  “Enough of my manservant choices. Let me hear what you thought of the rest of my household. What have you uncovered?”

  “I have had only one day—I am not a miracle worker.”

  James snorted. “I am not asking for a miracle. You are a shrewd man, Adam. I do not doubt for a minute that you’ve started to form opinions.”

  Adam sniffed and shifted in his seat. “I suppose it would be fair to say that Clement is one of the most odious little men I’ve come across in a long time. Thinks himself clever, but he let slip a few morsels once I dropped a subtle hint or two that my devotion was more to my purse than the young earl.”

  “That seems too easy.”

  “He was not that stupid, but he has let his guard down too early. It makes me think he is not necessarily the master of these crimes.”

  James hadn’t thought Clement dull-witted, but then he was not in the position to act as Adam could. Still, he struggled to think who else in his household would have the brains or the position to do so. “If it is not him, then who?”