Chapter 11

Ada had only been gone half a day, and it was as if there was no light at all. Though she’d often sat working quietly next door in the library, the house seemed eerily silent. He didn’t like it, which made no sense. This was how it had been before her unwanted visit, and he’d enjoyed the silence. He’d hated that she’d come to Stonehill.

Until he didn’t.

He frowned at his desk and the neat stack of ledgers she’d left. He’d grown used to her energy and persistence, the very things he’d found so annoying at the start. Now he was annoyed that she was gone. There was, apparently, no pleasing him.

Except he’d been plenty pleased last night. Or pleasured, anyhow.

He’d never expected she’d invite him to her bed. He’d planned to say goodbye, to tell her he hoped she would visit again sometime. Instead, they’d spent the night learning each other’s bodies until he’d crept back to his room just before dawn. Then he’d slept like the dead, completely missing her departure.

She likely thought him a beast. Wasn’t he? She may have prompted him to change somewhat, but he was still the same monster who’d returned from Spain.

Mrs. Bundle pushed open his door, which had been ajar. “Mrs. Tallent is here. Do you want to receive her here or elsewhere?”

He’d completely forgotten he was meeting with his new steward today. Ada had left a note about it on his desk, which he’d found earlier. “Here is fine.”

“You sound aggravated,” Mrs. Bundle said, her eyes narrowing. “Do not drive Mrs. Tallent away.”

He glowered at her. “Don’t pester me.”

“Here I hoped your gentler nature would remain,” she murmured as she left.

Max sat up straighter behind his desk. What on earth was he going to discuss with the woman?

A few moments later, Mrs. Tallent entered. She’d removed her hat so he could fully see her dark hair pinned neatly atop her head. Her green eyes assessed him, and her hands were clasped before her. She appeared nervous.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Please sit.”

She perched on a chair near his desk—the small one Ada sat in on the few occasions she’d come to his study.

They stared at each other, both expectant, and Max wondered if she knew what they were supposed to discuss. “These are the ledgers Miss Treadway organized and brought up to date.” He indicated the stack on the corner of the desk.

Mrs. Tallent edged forward on the chair. “Excellent. Should I just take them?”

“I suppose.”

Silence stole over them again, and this time, she broke it. “Do I need to find a tenant for my farm?”

“Isn’t that what a steward does?”

“I believe so.”

He clasped his hands atop the desk. “Perhaps you should visit with Sir George’s steward for guidance.” Sir George was Max’s neighbor to the north.

She pursed her lips. “I will do that. And what of my family’s living arrangements?”

“What of them?” Had she asked for this meeting to barrage him with questions he didn’t know the answers to?

“It is my understanding that once a new tenant arrives for our farm, I and my children will move to the steward’s house.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

“May I look at it?” she asked politely. “I should like to ascertain its condition and whether there are furnishings.”

“Talk to Mrs. Bundle about that.” He wasn’t sure if Mrs. Bundle could help her, but in the absence of a steward and a butler, she was the ranking retainer in his employ, so she seemed the likeliest to provide assistance.

“It seems I have bothered you, my lord,” she said tightly, rising to her feet. “I thought you wanted to meet with me today.”

“No, I didn’t ask to meet with you. Miss Treadway left a note.” A disappointingly short and impersonal missive in which she’d said he had a meeting with his new steward this afternoon.

“I see. She also sent me a note. It seems she neglected to tell either of us why we were meeting.”

“She should have stayed to help with this transition,” he said darkly, angry that she was gone, that she’d left him with what he now saw as a mess. How he hadn’t seen it before, he didn’t know.

“I’ll learn quickly, my lord,” Mrs. Tallent said with confidence. Max only grunted in response. “Do you wish me to check in with you regularly?”

“I suppose you should.” Max knew enough from his youth that his father met with the steward at least weekly, if not more often. Indeed, the steward had typically been present at their dinner table. He tried to imagine dining with Mrs. Tallent and perhaps her children and immediately chucked the idea.

“Are you entirely certain this arrangement is acceptable?” she asked.

No.“It will be fine. You need time to learn and become acclimated. I shall be patient.”

“How magnanimous of you.” She gave him what he suspected was a fake smile. “You also need time to learn and become acclimated. I am also patient. I’ll visit Sir George’s estate and I’ll secure a new tenant. In the meantime, I’ll acquaint myself with these ledgers.” She picked up the stack and departed before he could say another word.

Or help her. He should have carried the bloody books. He also could have been more pleasant. At least he hadn’t been outright rude, like he’d been before Ada had visited.

A moment later, Mrs. Bundle came back to the study. “What did you do?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

The housekeeper put her hands on her hips. “Mrs. Tallent said she hoped this arrangement would work, but did not appear or sound optimistic. I’ll ask again, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. Ada—Miss Treadway—apparently set this meeting and didn’t inform either of us what we were to discuss. If you want to be irritated with someone, it should be her.”

Mrs. Bundle relaxed slightly and dropped her hands to her sides. “I see. You’re angry with Miss Treadway and allowed Mrs. Tallent to feel the brunt of that. Shame on you, my lord. Here I thought you’d made good progress.”

He didn’t want to be chastised by his housekeeper today. He was in too foul a mood. “You berating me is going to ensure I make no progress. Mrs. Tallent will be fine. I need you to help her with the steward’s house. Give her the key.”

“I’ve just done that, and I’ll go inspect it myself first thing tomorrow. It will be some time before she moves in, I expect.”

“Thank you.” Max rubbed his hand across his brow.

Mrs. Bundle lingered. “Are you upset because Miss Treadway is gone? I can understand why you would be.”

Max said nothing. If he admitted his emotions, he’d have to deal with them. Wouldn’t he?

“It’s nearly the end of the London Season, isn’t it?” Mrs. Bundle asked. “Perhaps you should go. It’s been some time since you visited.” Having planted that seed in his brain, she slipped from his study.

Normally, he would find his housekeeper’s meddling annoying, but in this case, he didn’t hate her idea. Not the going-to-London part, but the reason for doing so—following Ada.

Which he absolutely should not do. What would he do once he found her?

He had no idea.

Anyway, following Ada seemed a rather weak reason to travel to London. He didn’t have lodgings there, and if it became known that he was in town, he’d be expected at Westminster. Plus, people would approach him and thank him for his military service. He flinched.

There was another reason he ought to go to London, he realized. His half sister. Not only should he give Prudence her dowry, he should at least meet her. As Ada had pointed out, he wasn’t really alone. Furthermore, if Prudence was a close friend of Ada’s, it seemed likely that Max would perchance find her interesting.

Fine, he’d go to London. But he wouldn’t commit to enjoying it.

Ada had barely deposited her traveling case in her bedchamber before there was a knock on the door of her private apartment located on the second floor of the ladies’ side of the Phoenix Club. Moving into the main room, she hastened to the door, certain of who it would be.

“Evie,” she said warmly.

Evangeline Renshaw was one of the most strikingly attractive people Ada had ever met. She was classically beautiful, with sculpted cheekbones, a dazzling smile when she chose to give it, and the most remarkable round blue eyes that turned up at the outer corners. She was also graced with astonishing russet hair that always looked as though she stood in the sunlight or beneath a glittering chandelier. Evie just…sparkled.

She was also incredibly clever, with a no-nonsense head for business that inspired Ada in all she did. When she’d first met Evie, who was somehow only slightly older than Ada, two years ago in Cornwall, Ada had been entranced. She’d wanted nothing more than to be just like her. In time, she’d realized that was silly, that she needed to learn to be Ada. She hoped she was doing that.

They embraced, and when Evie stepped back, she said, “You look like you’re still in one piece. Was Warfield as awful as expected?”

“I would say more awful, actually.” Ada recalled the first few days and his efforts to get her to leave. “But I managed to wear him down. He hired a steward before I left.”

Evie gaped at her. “Astonishing. I shouldn’t have doubted it, however. You are remarkably skilled at bringing out the best in people.”

Had she done that? Ada wasn’t sure she’d seen Max’s best. She’d certainly seen his better, in any case. She only hoped he continued to improve. She truly believed he was ill, in a manner of speaking, from whatever had happened in Spain and was finally on the path to recovery. “He’s been through a difficult time.” She couldn’t deny wanting to defend and protect him.

“You got on well with him, then?” Evie asked.

“Eventually.” During the journey back to London, Ada had considered whether she would tell Evie or Prudence what had happened. She feared telling Evie would invite reproach. Evie had rescued Ada at one of her lowest points, after she’d left her employment as a governess and feared her life as a respectable woman was over.

In the end, since there was no chance Ada and Max would repeat their night of passion, Ada had determined it was best to just pretend it had been a lovely dream. That was precisely how she’d remember and treasure it.

“I know Lucien is eager to speak with you if you’re not too tired,” Evie said.

“Not at all. He’s in his office?”

Evie chuckled. “I told him you would be full of energy even after the long ride in a coach. He really ought to know better by now, but men will always discount us, even those who know us best.”

Ada wasn’t sure she agreed with that, but didn’t say so. Evie was the most independent-minded woman Ada had ever known. She often found men, particularly their opinions and interference, to be a nuisance. If ever there was a woman who would never marry, it was Evie. Her identity as a widow was a complete fabrication—a secret known only to Ada and Lucien and perhaps a few others.

“Do you want to walk with me?” Ada asked.

“I’d planned to go over, since it’s Tuesday.” The men’s side would be bustling with activity as women joined them this one night of the week.

They went down to the first floor and took the shortcut through the gallery that overlooked the ballroom. Lucien’s office was situated at the back of the first floor. His door was open, and Ada moved inside.

Evie followed her in. “Ada’s back,” she said, perhaps unnecessarily.

Lucien jumped up from behind his desk, his features eager. “Welcome home, Ada. I can hardly wait to hear all about your adventure.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Evie closed the door behind her as she departed.

Tall, with dark eyes and darker hair, Lucien was nearly as attractive as Evie and equally driven. They’d once been lovers, Evie had confided to Ada, but they were now just the best of friends.

“Your letters were not nearly descriptive enough.” Lucien gestured to a pair of chairs near the hearth. He waited for Ada to sit before he took the other chair, sitting far forward in his enthusiasm. “Tell me everything.”

She wouldn’t come even close to doing so, but he didn’t need to know that. “I believe I conveyed the important parts—that he was disagreeable and that I was making progress.”

He smacked the arm of his chair with his palm. “I can’t believe you got him to agree to hire a steward!”

“He actually hired one before I left.” She nearly laughed as Lucien stared at her in unabashed shock. “I recommended Mrs. Tallent, a farmer on the estate, and he agreed.”

Lucien’s expression sobered. “Is Mrs. Tallent qualified?”

Evie’s words came back to Ada, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I believe so, yes. She’s an excellent bookkeeper—the best on the estate—and she’s managed to not only maintain her husband’s farm since his death last year, she’s increased profit and productivity.” Women could and probably should run the world, Ada thought.

“She certainly sounds good at farming,” he said evenly. “However, Max doesn’t know a thing about running the estate. He needs someone with experience. I was able to come up with a list of candidates.” He stood and went to his desk.

Ada clasped her hands in her lap and stiffened her spine. “Too late. Mrs. Tallent has already started in her position.” At least Ada hoped so since she and Max were supposed to have met that afternoon. She wondered how that had gone and wished she’d had more time to help them. Perhaps she should have stayed another week.

To spend more time in his arms?

She ignored the overzealous part of her brain.

“Could we at least send someone to guide them?” Lucien asked, his brow furrowing and his jaw tightening.

“You entrusted this mission to me. I don’t know that his lordship would appreciate another meddling figure. It took me some time to win him over.” And she still wouldn’t consider the war won, just the battle she’d been sent to fight. Whether Max would continue on the path to being more amenable was anyone’s guess. He had so many things to work through—the sleeping and nightmares, the eating, the not riding. Ada felt a pang of guilt at leaving him with regard to the sleeping in particular.

“You truly won him over?” Lucien asked.

“I think so.” She wasn’t about to say more than that. “I will write to him and ask how things are progressing with Mrs. Tallent—the new steward. If he indicates he needs help, we can offer to send someone.” Or Ada could learn what needed to be done and return herself…temporarily, of course.

Lucien came back to the chair, his expression still weighted with disbelief. “I can hardly countenance him responding to you, let alone indicating he needs help. What did you do to him while you were there?”

“I was merely my usual cheerful self. I think I wore him down. Lest you think it was easy, I assure you it was not. He was most reluctant.”

“That’s the Max—er, Warfield—I know.” Lucien gave his head a shake. “Sometimes I forget he’s the viscount. I’ve always known him as Max, and we never expected him to inherit. His brother was quite healthy.”

“You haven’t said how he died. I know their father was ill.”

“It was a terrible tragedy. Alec was thrown from his horse. He hit his head and seems to have died immediately, which is a comfort, I suppose.”

Ada thought of Max’s refusal to ride. Was that why he’d sold nearly all the horses at Stonehill? Or was it just whatever had happened in Spain? Likely, it was both. Her heart ached for him, especially since riding had seemed to have been something he’d enjoyed in his youth.

Since she’d written to Lucien about Max’s horse, she decided it was worth discussing. They both cared about him. “I wonder if that is part of the reason he no longer rides.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” Lucien looked to the side, frowning. “I’ve tried to be a good friend, but I’ve done a rather poor job.” His gaze met hers again. “I did find his horse. I know the gentleman who bought him, and I believe he’ll sell him to me. Do you suppose Max wants him back?”

“I have no idea. But I do think he should ride again.” The same way she should get in a boat again. Just the thought of that made her quake with fear and unease.

“I can still scarcely believe he doesn’t ride at all. He is one of the finest horsemen I’ve ever known. I think I’ll pay him a visit in a few weeks. Perhaps I’ll bring Arrow as a peace offering.”

“Does peace need to be made?”

Lucien leaned back in his chair, slumping slightly. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think Max has appreciated my meddling. He definitely wasn’t thrilled about you coming to Stonehill.”

“Yet you sent me anyway,” Ada said wryly.

“I knew it would benefit him. Or it would be a colossal failure. You were my last hope.” He smiled, and it carried relief. “I’m so glad you found success. I hope he appreciates it. And you.”

“I think he came to.”

Lucien stood. “I’ll buy the horse.”

“I hope he accepts the gift.” As much as Ada thought she might have come to know Max, she acknowledged there was far more of him that was a mystery to her. She truly had no inkling how he might react to receiving his former horse. She rose.

“Are you coming into the club for a bit, or are you tired from your trip?”

“I think I must step into the members’ den and the library, at least,” she said, taking his arm as he offered it.

They left his office and made their way toward the front. “Drinks first, and you know the best is in the library.”

“Of course I do.” She slid him an amused glance. “Who ensures we have those beverages?”

Lucien laughed heartily. “This club would fold without you. While I’m glad you agreed to do this errand for me, you were sorely missed.”

She felt a moment’s alarm. “I worked hard to make sure everything was taken care of. Did things not run smoothly?”

He put his hand over hers. “Things were just fine. I only meant to convey that you are highly valued.”

“Thank you. I appreciate hearing that.”

The moment they stepped into the library, a blonde figure rushed toward them. “You’re back!”

Prudence St. James, the Viscountess Glastonbury, smiled broadly and only just kept herself from embracing Ada.

Ada put her arms around her. She was far less concerned about showing her feelings than Prudence was. “I’m so glad to see you.”

They parted, and Prudence cocked her head. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight, but I’m so glad you are.” She linked her arm through Ada’s.

Lucien waved them off. “Go. I’ll bring you a glass of port, Ada. Unless you’d prefer something else?”

Ada thought about the whisky she’d drunk with Max and how she’d tried to persuade him to join the Phoenix Club to broaden his palate. “Irish whiskey, if you don’t mind.”

“Indeed?” Lucien looked to Prudence. “Anything for you?”

“Not at the moment, thank you.” Prudence set her expectant gaze on Ada. “Tell me everything, starting with how horrid Warfield was.”

“Just as nasty as you described. However, and I hope you won’t hate hearing this, he did become less…terrible over the course of the fortnight. I was rather persistent with my cheer and charm.”

Prudence laughed. “How I would have liked to see that. I’m so glad you wore him down. Is that what happened?”

“Somewhat. He liked to tell me as often as possible that I annoyed him. He was generally unhelpful. But then he realized I was going to do what I was going to do whether he provided assistance or not.” Ada sobered somewhat. “Ultimately, he saw that he was not doing his best for those around him, and I persuaded him to make some changes.”

Prudence’s expression was much the same Lucien’s had been—total disbelief. “Such as?”

“He hired a steward and more retainers. His poor housekeeper has help now.”

“I’m astonished he agreed to that, but glad for Mrs. Bundle. I liked her. She apologized profusely for Warfield’s behavior.” Prudence looked away, her lips pursing. “Did you, ah, discuss me with him?”

“Yes. I took him to task for his treatment of you. He thinks he’s alone in this world, but I reminded him that he is not.”

“Did that seem to make a difference?” Prudence sounded as if she hoped so.

“Pru, are you hoping you might forge a sibling relationship with him?” Ada would do whatever she could to facilitate that if Prudence wanted it.

“I doubt that’s possible. His disdain of me was quite strong.”

“I think it was largely bluster,” Ada said softly, thinking of the vulnerabilities he’d shown her. “It is my fervent hope that he is changing, that the wounds he suffered at war are finally beginning to heal. With that, anything is possible.”

Prudence gave a dry laugh. “You are the most optimistic person I know.”

Lucien returned with Ada’s whiskey. “Did I hear you praising Ada’s eternal optimism?”

“Praising is perhaps not the best word. Marveling at it is a better description.”

“It is a wonder to behold,” Lucien agreed. “That’s how I knew she was the right person to send to Stonehill. Did she tell you that he hired a steward and that she’s a woman farmer from his estate?”

“How did that come about?” Prudence asked.

“Her husband died last year, and Warfield allowed her to continue on.” Because that was easier for him than overseeing a change. She left that last part out. Again, she felt defensive and protective of him. She wished they could all see the man she’d come to know.

“The whole thing is beyond astonishing. My hat’s off to you, Ada.” Lucien lifted his glass in a toast and took a drink before leaving them.

“Where is your husband?” Ada asked, scanning the library before seeing the Viscount Glastonbury standing in the corner, speaking with Dougal MacNair.

“Never too far away,” Prudence murmured, a smile lifting her lips. She was so clearly in love, and Ada couldn’t have been more thrilled. No one she knew deserved to be happy more than Prudence.

Perhaps that wasn’t exactly true any longer. She desperately wanted Max to find happiness. He’d suffered so much.

“I still can’t believe you’re the one happily married,” Ada said with a light laugh.

“Me neither. You are far more likely to fall in love.”

“You know I’ve already done that.”

“Just as I know that it didn’t work out,” Prudence said. “My hope for you is that it happens again, but that it’s forever.”

Ada wasn’t sure she wanted that. She’d loved Jonathan very much. Leaving him had been incredibly difficult, but then she’d had no choice. She’d created her own miserable and awful situation because she’d been foolish and overly romantic. Honestly, she should turn her back on romance and perhaps even optimism entirely. That wasn’t her nature, however. So she would continue to be romantically minded—for others.

And yet, she couldn’t deny that she felt…something for Max. She’d come to care deeply for him, but that didn’t mean it was love. Honestly, she didn’t want to think about what she felt.

“As it happens, I’m too busy at present for any of that,” Ada said breezily, glad she’d decided not to tell anyone what had happened between her and Max. What would be the point when it was a singular event?

Lucien had gone to speak with MacNair and Glastonbury. Ada recalled what Max had told her about his escapades with Lucien and MacNair. She wished Max would come to London and see his friends. It would only help his healing.

Perhaps she ought to write to him about that. She could ask about his former horse and Mrs. Tallent, and suggest he come to town. Would he write back? She regretted not seeing him that morning before she’d left. But what was she to do, ask Mrs. Bundle to wake him?

No, it was best that they’d parted as they did. Her last memories of him were of her body entwined with his, their lips joined, and shared joy.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Prudence asked. “I can see you’re thinking about something, as you so often are.”

“Woolgathering, you mean. Nothing in particular. I’m just glad to be home. Now, tell me all about your newly married life.” Ada escorted her to a settee and put Max from her mind.

For about an hour, anyway.