“BLOODY HELL, ANDREWS! I nearly drowned myself!” Brendon shouted as he came up for air. “For God’s sake announce yourself another time.” He glared at the screen that fortunately separated him from his valet’s eyes.
Andrews answered dryly.
“I did knock. Twice, in fact. Perhaps you were napping. It was a long ride, my Lord. And after last night.” The man gave a derisory sniff. “If your bed was anywhere near as comfortable as mine, you must be exhausted.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Brendon. “I swear Bilton fared better in the stables. Fortunately I managed to nap in the carriage.” He stepped around the screen and shook out the bath-sheet. “Are we finished, my Lord, or do we require longer for your ablutions?”
Brendon slid upright, sloshing even more water, as he regained his equilibrium. Bloody man! He considered firing him on the spot. But the screen had been a fortunate barrier and there was no chance of embarrassing himself now. His erection had withered so fast it would be a wonder he ever found the blasted thing again.
“I’m done, thank you, Andrews. I’ll let you unpack while I dry off. Nothing fancy for this evening. I fear I will be dining alone.”
Andrews left him the drying cloth.
“I can ask for your dinner to be sent up here if you would prefer.”
Brendon shook his head even though his valet couldn’t see.
“No, I think Mrs. Lawson has enough to contend with without pandering to me, and Alfred looks so old, I doubt he can make the stairs before the food becomes stone cold. I’ll eat in the dining room if it is usable.”
Andrews peered into the corners of the wardrobe checking for moths before he began hanging his master’s shirts.
“There might be but few staff but these rooms are impeccable, and the stable lad seems competent enough. Bilton said he appeared to be good with the horses.”
Brendon grabbed his robe and fastened it about his waist before stepping into view.
“Yes, I thought so too. I am meeting with James in less than twenty minutes to discuss matters of the estate. My father appears to have left things to...” He stopped and scratched his head. His father hadn’t left anything except orders not to employ more staff, thereby letting the place go to ruin. Brendon glanced about the room. This was not his father’s master bedroom, but one just along the corridor. The furnishings were opulent and well looked after despite the house’s apparent outward neglect. He wondered if his father’s room was in the same condition. Knowing his father’s particular taste and the state of this lesser apartment, there was no doubt that Mrs. Lawson would keep the master suite immaculate. And there were two other staff, though one was ancient. With stabling for the two horses he had seen earlier, animals that weren’t strictly necessary to the current household, things obviously weren’t as dire as they initially appeared.
Andrews looked at him expectantly, brows raised as he waited for Brendon to finish.
“Left things to... my Lord?” He queried as he held out fresh clothes.
Brendon narrowed his eyes as some things fell into place.
“Left things to me. That’s what my father has done. He’s left things to me. Crafty bugger is giving me responsibility for this place without actually doing it formally and telling me I have to do it. It’s a pity he had to go and get himself shot before he plucked up courage to ask me directly.” He recalled all the times his father had hinted at responsibility as he pulled on his breeches and lugged his shirt over his still damp shoulders. Waving away the proffered cravat, he added, “I won’t be needing that, Andrews, but I do need to get to the bottom of all of this. I’ll not be led about like a dog after a bone.” He stalked out of the room.
Chapter Seven
A New Beginning
James Lawson leaned over the desk in the study and pointed to a change of handwriting in the ledger. The new bookkeeper had a much neater cursive and the entries became far clearer. Brendon compared the two hands.
“I see. An obvious improvement. I thought for a moment that a spider must have been keeping the records for us.” He tried to raise a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. What had his father been thinking when he employed Mr. Briggs?
James nodded.
“He was all right at first, but became worse the more he drank and unfortunately that was most days in the end. He changed again in his last two weeks here and we soon discovered why. He met Lady Gwendolyn Pitt while out viewing the estate one day. She was out in her carriage. They hadn’t known each other more than a fortnight and I have no idea what she saw in him, but she was giggling like a delighted child as they took off for Gretna Green. Her previous husband died falling from his mount while out hunting years ago and I think she was very lonely, but her inheritance wasn’t enough to tempt a younger, more handsome, or well connected man. Briggs wasn’t much to look at, but I had heard that he took care of his women in certain departments, if you know what I mean.” His eyes drifted towards his crotch.
Brendon wasn’t sure he should be discussing Lady Gwendolyn Pitt’s new paramour’s expertise in the bedroom. He actually didn’t want to think about it at all. The very idea made him feel as if he might be sick.
“Ugh! Some things one doesn’t need to know.”
James let out a harsh laugh.
“Indeed, I am sorry I brought the details up, but it was only two weeks after we let his Lordship know of Brigg’s sudden departure that he sent this letter.” He pulled a folded sheet from the back of the accounts book and laid it on the desk in front of Brendon. Lord Spencer’s familiar handwriting flowed over the page.
‘James,
I know that I can leave you in charge of Fallows until I can find a suitable replacement. You will probably make a far better job of it than Briggs. My business and personal commitments make it impossible for me to leave London at present, but I will send someone to take responsibility for the estate as soon as I am able. Rest assured that your own and your mother’s positions are not in question. Neither should old Alfred or Molly be afraid, but I must forbid you to employ any other staff other than those presently at Fallows. I also require that you send any and all receipts to me here in London.
Sincerely,
Spencer.
Brendon’s eyebrows came together. Was his father short of money? It hadn’t appeared so, but Brendon knew of more than one person who lived like a king but had the pockets of a pauper. The mystery became murkier with every moment that passed.
“So how has he paid you? Surely there was some residual income he allowed you to keep for expenses or is the lack of funds how the house has gone to ruin so quickly?”
James shrugged.
“I negotiated with your father and kept back enough for us to live after Briggs left, but there wasn’t enough money to keep the house in good order in the first place. It is the same with all these big houses. You build them, then furnish them at the same time. Everything wears out at the same time too. Especially when you are not allowed to use the income received on general repairs and upkeep. Briggs’ drinking habits didn’t help either. He spent the little the estate receives on filling the cellars rather than filling the holes in the roof.” He leafed backwards in the book and pointed to some figures further down the page. Unfortunately the spidery writing became suddenly all too clear.
“Good grief! Twenty pounds on brandy! How much was the man drinking every day?” His finger drifted further down the page as he took in the figures. It was a few minutes before Brendon reached the last entries again and realized something was missing. He looked up at the young man standing beside him. Several stems of hay clung to his waistcoat, the odd grain sat around the welt of his boot, and suspicion grew in Brendon’s mind. “I see no expenditure on feed for the horses, or farrier’s bills.”
James shifted awkwardly but his shoulders slumped under Brendon’s steady gaze.
“Briggs preferred his liquid refreshment. There was nothing left for the upkeep of the horses, and it is not as though I want for anything. We couldn’t sell the ani
mals without your father’s consent and, even if he had given it, who would we have sold them too around here? There are not landed gentry on every corner, and the nearest one with any money had already upped sticks and left with our steward. Your father’s mounts are fine stud horses and I didn’t want them to be sold merely to work on a farm. I could have used them myself for that, but they aren’t built for it or accustomed to that kind of treatment and would have suffered appallingly. Mother has made sure that there is always enough food on the table from the income selling her ointments and perfumes, and I am quite comfortable in my room above the stables.”
Brendon ground his teeth.
“So you have spent your own wages on my father’s horses; part of my inheritance.” It wasn’t a question. “I feel like a complete heel! All the while I have been living in luxury, you have been reduced to living in a stable.” His chest heaved as his anger rose. He looked back over the last year’s accounts, drew out his own purse as he found the sum his father should have paid his groom, and counted out the coins.
James took a step back from the desk, holding up his hands in protest.
“What are you doing? It was my choice to forego my wages. You owe me nothing.”
Brendon frowned at him.
“I owe you everything. And I refuse to take no for an answer. As it was your choice to feed our animals, it is my choice to spend my allowance on paying you back. Why didn’t you tell my father of this situation? He would have sent funds if you were short, or at least let you keep enough back for the animals. He is not a cruel man. He would hardly see the beasts starve.” He could still scarce believe his father’s attitude.
James glowered at Brendon.
“Do you think I did not ask? I sent several letters telling him of the difficulties we faced, but he always sent the same answer. Either he would be down soon to rectify the matter or we would have a new master to sort the place out. He sent a man to check the place over last month. I assumed he meant that he was trying to sell Fallows.”
If he had been drinking, he would have choked. As it was, Brendon merely spluttered in shock.
“He can’t sell Fallows. It is entailed. To me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration growing by the minute as he realized the depth of responsibility that could be thrust upon him at any moment. Especially now that his father had proven exactly how fragile his life was.
But something was off. He couldn’t believe that his father would let animals suffer. There was clearly more to this, and Brendon vowed to dig until he discovered what had prompted his father into such action.
God’s bones! Beads of perspiration broke out on his brow. If that shot had been three inches lower, he might be struggling with the problems of six properties like this. The enormity of the situation finally dawned on him. He was lucky that his father was only injured. Brendon had never had to do this kind of thing before. Wasn’t even sure he knew where to start. No wonder Algernon had left his responsibilities to his uncle when they had gone to war. Fighting on the battlefields suddenly felt a lot easier than taking on this weight of work.
He remembered his father carrying on about duty and obligation, but Brendon had never taken the man’s words particularly seriously. His father maintained exceptional good health and didn’t appear to be in any financial straits. Brendon didn’t expect to inherit for years.
But now he wondered if there was actually something physically wrong. The time had passed quickly since coming home from battle. Apart from a month or two spent with Algernon while the man recovered from his gunshot wounds, Brendon had squandered his time either at his clubs, visiting his friends in town, or in the company of the lovely, but frivolous Angelique. Trivial, unimportant pursuits that came with no particular ties, or consequences. The guilt of his own indolence weighed heavily on him.
“That’s partly what this is all about, why he has sent me now. He is gearing me up for my future responsibilities. I’m not saying that he is wrong in making provision, or even wanting me to shoulder some of the strain, but he could have explained before things became this dire. He’s barely past fifty and obviously beginning to worry.”
James looked down at the letter again.
“I’m not surprised he’s worried if he’s going to go about getting shot at, though I confess that I am not unhappy about you being here.”
Brendon glanced up again. Concern etched the younger man’s face. Brendon stood up and clapped him on his broad shoulder
“My father has been lucky that you are here, and I am eternally grateful too. Given the lack of funds and my father’s orders to employ no more staff, you have done an excellent job so far. I see no reason why you shouldn’t take over as steward permanently. That means taking the proper salary.” He held up his finger as James appeared about to protest. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop you taking charge of the stables if you would like to, but now I am in charge we’ll find the funds for a stable hand or two.”
James’ shoulders relaxed and the first hint of a smile reached his lips.
“If you do take charge permanently, that will free up my time no end. I can then run the stables as I have always wanted. That’s where the estate could make some extra money to pay for its upkeep. If you are ever away, I already know enough to take over again, but it won’t be such burden. We are due the rents from your tenants. I can begin making some repairs about the place if you can release some of the money for supplies.”
Brendon nodded.
“Of course. Though I am going to need to hire professionals for some of the work. I wouldn’t fancy tackling that roof with no experience. I’ll look into employing suitable people over the next few weeks.” So this was his father’s plan. He was going to be at Fallows for far longer than he had originally envisaged. If he were honest with himself, he had assumed that he would be back in town within a fortnight, but given the amount of work to be done, he probably wouldn’t be able to leave before the autumn. If then.
But was this what he wanted from his life? It didn’t feel as though he had much choice. He could return to London and leave Fallows to crumble. That probably wouldn’t take long given the state of the roof, leaving four people without a home and no work either. Or he could take on the project and make Fallows great again.
He sighed as he realized that his father had backed him neatly into a corner. One that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be put in, but there really was no other decision to make. Fallows had been lovely once. It could be made so again.
He squared his shoulders and drew in a deep breath as he made the only choice his honour would allow him. He would rise to the occasion and make Fallows a home once again. His home. It seemed to be the only decent plan.
Chapter Eight
Double Trouble
Sophia jumped from the carriage and rushed to meet her friend, who stood looking radiant on Sommersford’s wide front steps, surrounded by an assortment of staff and children.
“Felicity! You are positively glowing! How much longer is it going to be?” She would have embraced her friend but her brother elbowed her out of the way.
“My darling! I have missed you so much.” Algernon swept the pregnant woman into his arms and, ignoring the giggles of the gathered orphaned children, carried her back inside the house.
Sophia rolled her eyes as Felicity thumped the man’s broad shoulder.
“Put me down, Algernon. You have been gone for less than a week and I want to see your sister, whom I haven’t seen for months!” She protested.
Algernon leaned down and kissed his wife’s forehead.
“Not until I have seen you first. It has been hell without you.”
Sophia followed her brother and his burden into the drawing room. She cast her eyes about taking in the many improvements. The window frames looked new, the curtains fresh and fashionable. There were bright covers on the old furniture and a splendidly thick rug on the floor.
Algernon placed his wife on the settee and sat beside her, ta
king her hand and kissing it tenderly.
“You have been well, my love? The baby isn’t causing you too much discomfort?” He enquired with genuine concern on his brow.
Felicity shifted a little and brought her hand to her husband’s cheek.
“I am well, if a little tired. You have no reason to worry. The doctor came yesterday and said things were progressing satisfactorily.”
Algernon frowned and lay his hand on Felicity’s swollen stomach.
“Only satisfactory? Is there something wrong? You should be doing splendidly at the very least.” His indignation made Sophia laugh.
“Oh Algernon, if you could see your face right now. You would think you had lost a diamond and found a lump of coal instead. Move over, you great oaf and let me see my friend.” She wriggled between the couple and turned her back on her brother.
He made a half hearted grumble as he shifted to give her more room.
“Typical. I might as well leave you both to it as it is obvious I am not wanted here.” He gave a playful pout as he stood up and bent over his wife. “I’ll send in tea for the two of you. We can catch up later.” He rested his hand possessively on Felicity’s swollen stomach again, smiling as his child moved beneath his palm. Unable to hide the longing to be alone with her, he brushed her lips with his own before leaving the room.
Sophia laughed at his retreating back.
“I never would have thought it of him. He is positively ardent in his admiration of you.” She couldn’t help the twinge of envy that rippled though her.
Felicity smiled serenely and smoothed her skirts over her bump.
“I’ve missed him too, even if it has only been a few days.” She reached out and took her friend’s hands. “But I am so glad you have finally arrived. We shall have such fun now you are here.” She bit her lip as tears suddenly came to her eyes.
Seeing her friend’s distress, Sophia instantly moved closer.
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