Chapter 5

He’d behaved horribly.

Which wasn’t different from any other day, except that it was. That afternoon, Max had let his anger and self-loathing run rampant, and he’d frightened Miss Treadway in the process.

Because of a red ribbon.

Everything about that long-ago day was burned into his mind for all time. A warm summer afternoon with a light breeze. The scent of dirt and grass. Birdsong. Dark hair. Red ribbon.

No. White ribbon stained with blood.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists. He wouldn’t go back to Spain, to that horrible day. Except he couldn’t escape it.

Exhaling slowly, he pushed the tension from his shoulders down his arms and flexed his hands. He might not be able to run from it, but he could hide. Or try to, anyway. What else did he have to do?

Opening his eyes, he regarded himself in the mirror. His face looked weary, with lines etched around his eyes and mouth. Even his scars, wrinkled and pinkish, had lines.

You should apologize to her.

He owed her that much, at least. He turned to fetch his coat and drew it on, straightening the garment over his waistcoat. He feared his garments were out of fashion—and they were too large since he’d lost weight and hadn’t bothered to gain it back—but he didn’t care. Whom did he need to impress?

He went downstairs and made his way to the dining room, hoping he wasn’t too late. As he entered, he realized Timothy was just serving the soup. The footman clattered the spoon against the tureen as his gaze landed on Max.

Damn, he hadn’t meant to startle the poor lad. But then Timothy was easily spooked.

“Will you set a place for me, Timothy?” Max asked, walking to the head of the table. He noted that Miss Treadway was seated near the middle.

“Right away, my lord.” Timothy bustled to set Max’s place.

“What a surprise,” Miss Treadway said evenly. “I’m delighted you’ll be joining me.”

He might have thought she was jesting, but delight seemed to be one of her natural moods. “Were you always this cheerful?”

“Yes. And before you ask, yes, it was also occasionally annoying to my family, particularly my father when he wasn’t satisfied with the number of fish he’d caught that day. He preferred if everyone shared his disappointment. But I eventually won him over.”

“How did you manage that?”

Her blue-gray eyes glimmered in the candlelight. There was mischief in their depths, along with glee. What he wouldn’t give to feel either of those things. “By acting silly or telling him a story or making up a song.”

Timothy had finished the setting, and Max took his seat. The footman then served his soup. Max had almost forgotten what this was like.

“You made up songs?” he prompted, as much out of a sense of awkwardness as curiosity. He imagined she was a precocious child.

“Yes, typically about mermaids or fish, although I suppose mermaids are fish.” She laughed softly, and he didn’t find it irritating.

Timothy poured wine, and Max took a sip, eyeing Miss Treadway over the rim as she ate her soup. “Why are you sitting there?” he asked, putting his glass down.

“I sit in a different chair every night. That way, I can see the room from different perspectives.”

He stared at her, thinking she couldn’t be that charming. Or that he was surprised to find he was being charmed by her. But his defenses were low. Today had been rough.

“I want to apologize for what I said earlier.” He focused on his soup so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Would you mind if I moved closer?” She was already standing, and Timothy rushed to help her. Then he transported her place setting next to Max. To his left. Dammit.

“I, ah, perhaps you wouldn’t mind sitting there.” He inclined his head toward the empty chair on his right.

She bent slightly and whispered, “I sat on your left in the cart earlier. Your scars don’t bother me. Indeed, without them, you’d look far too perfect.”

He looked up at her and wanted to argue, but words froze on his tongue. At this proximity, he smelled apples and spice, a deliciously alluring scent. And her eyes sparkled with her excess of charm and wit. They were framed with the most magnificently long, dark lashes and capped by elegantly seductive brows. She was the one who looked perfect.

Before he could muster speech, she motioned for Timothy to set the place on Max’s right.

When she was seated once more, Max murmured. “Thank you.” He grimaced. “Hell, I should have stood that entire time. My manners are in bad shape, I’m afraid.”

“You needn’t worry about impressing me.”

He nearly laughed at that, recalling what he’d been thinking before coming downstairs.

They finished their soup, and Timothy laid the next course.

Max feared he wouldn’t be able to make it to the third course. “It’s been a while since I ate a dinner like this.”

“You don’t eat the same meal in your study?”

“Not in courses like this. I, ah, don’t eat very much.”

“That’s a shame since Mrs. Debley is such a fine cook.”

He spent a few minutes sampling the delicious meal and decided it was a terrible shame indeed.

Miss Treadway forked a carrot, her gaze glinting with that mischief again. “I mean to find a way to persuade her to tell me stories about you as a boy.”

“She’ll tell you I stole biscuits from the kitchen like every other boy. Except my brother. He stole cheese.”

“Oh, I would have liked your brother,” she said, chuckling. “There is nothing better than cheese.”

Max arched a brow. “Except biscuits.”

She grinned. “Shall we duel over it?”

“No.” Her casual jest about violence reminded him that he was perilously close to forgetting that he oughtn’t be sitting here enjoying her company.

“Is that how you got the scar?” she asked, sounding quite sober now, her voice low and even tentative, which he found surprising.

“It’s from the war. I suppose battles are a series of duels. Only there are no rules, and no one behaves like a gentleman.” And there went his appetite. Dammit. The beef was delicious, as was the potato pudding.

“It looks as though you were burned.” She watched him as if she expected him to turn his head so she could inspect the scars.

“I was.” That day returned once more. The summer breeze. The bloodied ribbon. Later, the sharp, blinding pain of his flesh scalding. And so very much more.

Max seized and drained his wineglass. Timothy quickly refilled it, much to Max’s appreciation.

“Thank you,” Max murmured. Then he turned his head slightly so he could look Miss Treadway in the eye. “I’d rather not discuss the injury in detail. I hope you can respect my wishes, particularly given your nosiness.”

She stared at him a moment, then her face lit as she smiled broadly. “Thank you for that. Teasing me, I mean. I deserve it. I told you, I’m horribly inquisitive. I just like to know everything. Especially when I find things interesting.”

“You think I’m interesting?”

“Positively fascinating.” She ate a few peas she’d managed to spear on her fork, contemplating him as she chewed. After she swallowed, she added, “You are vastly disagreeable, and yet underneath your surly exterior, there hides a wealth of secrets. I hear you were actually a very likable person once. Lucien insists you’re one of his dearest friends, and for that to be true, you can’t be the man you show to the world.”

He was in real danger of letting her breach his defenses. “Perhaps Lucien is a poor judge of character.”

She looked affronted. “He helped me when I needed it, so I take that as an offense, sir.”

Time to deflect the conversation to her. “How did he help you?”

“I needed employment.” For the first time, she seemed uncomfortable, or at least not her usual sunny self. No, not the first time. That afternoon, before his own mental crash, she’d seemed troubled. It had been when the children had run toward the cart. He’d sensed something from her that he hadn’t before: fear.

“He hired you as the bookkeeper of his club? You must have had excellent references.”

Her eyes met his. “Just one, but it was enough to matter. I don’t think he regrets the decision. I’m very good at what I do.”

“I can see that. You’re incredibly organized and detailed. If you weren’t already employed, I might have to consider hiring you as my steward.” Except he couldn’t have her here. Look at the damage she was doing, and it hadn’t even been a week. “If you weren’t so annoying, that is.”

She laughed, but she was also swallowing, so she coughed. Then she reached for her wine and took a drink. She coughed again.

“I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort,” he said.

She waved her hand as she took another sip. “I’m fine. You’re rather charming this evening. I’m glad you decided to have dinner with me.” She looked at him with a bright intensity that made him feel better than he had in a very long time.

He put his attention on his plate and forced himself to eat, though he was long past feeling hungry.

She didn’t let the silence gather too long. “I sent the doctor from the village to call on Mrs. Kempton this afternoon. She didn’t want me to because of the expense, but I paid for the visit and the medicine he left for her and the baby.”

Max put his utensils down. There would be no more eating. Shame and self-loathing tore through him. “I should pay for that.”

“Yes, you should, but I know you don’t like to part with money.” There was a frost to her tone.

“Because I don’t spend money on the estate?”

“That and…other things. I was inclined to believe you weren’t interested in helping people.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you referring to something specific?”

“Yes, but we needn’t discuss it. I’m glad to hear that you are going to pay for the doctor.” She blinked. “Are you going to pay for the doctor, or were you merely acknowledging the fact that you should?”

He’d done an excellent job of ensuring everyone believed the worst of him. He ought to feel satisfied, but instead felt queasy. “I’ll reimburse you.”

“Thank you. You should also know that Mrs. Kempton needs temporary help while she recovers. She can’t take care of a sick baby and two small children. Her husband is busy with the farm, of course. I want to hire someone from the village.”

“I’ll pay for that too,” he said. “But…can you take care of the hiring?”

“Certainly.”

Every day she showed him how she could run Stonehill better than he could. He could blame the fact that his father hadn’t really educated him on how to do it—why would he when his brother was meant to be the next viscount? Only, Max had spent the past two years doing everything possible to avoid learning anything. To avoid doing anything.

To avoid feeling anything. Except anger and despair. He was quite accomplished at feeling those.

The people at Stonehill—his retainers and the tenants—depended on the viscount. He had a responsibility to them, albeit one he didn’t want. Dammit, he never should have inherited this. Why wasn’t there a bloody cousin he could turn this over to? Someone else ought to be the viscount. Someone worthy.

“I’ll go to the village tomorrow morning,” she said, setting her utensils down. “How far a walk is it?”

Timothy cleared their plates and went about setting the next course, which Max didn’t want.

“Three miles.” Max didn’t doubt she could easily do it, but her time was valuable. “I’ll have…Archie drive you.” He realized he didn’t even have a bloody groom or coachman to drive her. He could instruct Og to do it, but he now found he didn’t want to subject her to the ornery stable master.

He needed more than a steward. He needed people in the stables, in the house, in the overgrown gardens. He needed a damn butler. He didn’t want any of it.

She broke into his thoughts. “Thank you, I appreciate your help with this. I confess I’m surprised I didn’t have to convince you this was necessary.”

“I am too.” He exhaled. “It seems I must take a more active role, beginning with hiring a steward.” That way, Max could turn everything over to him. He’d make sure whoever he hired understood that Max didn’t want to be involved.

“Will you manage that?” she asked tentatively.

“I’d rather not.” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t suppose I can expect you to take that on too. No, of course not. Perhaps Lucien will help me.”

“He’d be delighted to.” She couldn’t contain her smile, and he envied her that buoyant, uncontrollable emotion. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

As soon as he let it in, a searing pain would crush the sensation. He wasn’t able to feel joy anymore, and watching her was a grim reminder.

Max stood. “Please excuse me.”

“I’m glad you came to dinner,” she said. “I look forward to helping you get back to work with the estate. You’ll be happy to be involved, I promise. It will be wonderful—for everyone.”

He wouldn’t be happy, and it wouldn’t be wonderful, not for him. But it was necessary, and Max had always done the hard, seemingly impossible things.

Someone had to.

Ada was delighted to meet Archie Tallent the next morning. He was waiting for her with the cart when she walked into the stable yard. Though just fourteen, he was exceedingly tall. His face was still quite boyish, his cheeks full, and his smile easy. His dark hair curled against his forehead beneath his hat.

“Good morning, Archie,” she greeted him. “I’m so pleased to meet you. If you don’t mind, I’d like our first stop to be your house so that I can meet your mother. I’m doing my best to tour the estate while I’m here, and for the next week, I believe, you will be my driver.”

He nodded. “I’m at your command, Miss Treadway. At least that’s what my mother told me to be,” he added with a smile.

Ada laughed. “I think I’m going to like your mother.”

Archie offered to help her into the cart, and Ada took his hand. They left a moment later, and Ada caught sight of Og standing in the doorway of the stables, his disgruntled expression trained on them.

Ada tried to imagine the pleasant young man beside her working with Og on a daily basis. “I hope Og didn’t give you any trouble about driving me.”

“He doesn’t give me anything else.” Archie didn’t sound the least bit bothered by it, however. “I know he means well. He just has a rough disposition. My mother always tells me to treat others with kindness because we never know what path they’ve walked.”

Ada was definitely going to like his mother. “Do you happen to know what path Og has traveled?” Not that she really needed to know. Sometimes her curiosity really was a curse.

“My mother says his wife and daughter died of fever a long time ago.”

“Well, that would make anyone despondent and would likely be difficult to recover from.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Archie asked in a whisper as if anyone were around to hear them.

“Certainly.”

“I sometimes wonder if he and his lordship have a pact to help each other remain grumpy.”

Ada clapped her hand over her mouth before she laughed. She didn’t know if Archie was making a jest. “Are you serious?”

Archie shrugged. “They’re both so consistently in bad moods. If I did that, my mother would banish me to bed without supper.”

“Perhaps that’s what they need.” Although after watching Warfield eat last night—or not eat, really—Ada suspected missing supper wouldn’t have much effect on him.

They arrived shortly at Archie’s house, a neat cottage with flowers blooming in tidy beds out front. A dog ran toward them as Archie set the brake. He bounded out to greet the animal, a black-and-white collie. Archie ruffled the dog’s fur, and the dog let out a few happy barks.

Ada climbed down from the cart, clasping her ledger in her left hand. “What’s his name?”

Archie glanced up at her from where he crouched. “Happy. Because he makes us all happy. Plus, just look at his face. He’s always happy. Aren’t you, boy?” The love between boy and animal was so strong, Ada felt a thickening in her chest.

“He looks like a very happy boy.”

Suddenly Archie sent her a distressed look. He stood. “I should have helped you from the cart. I beg your pardon.”

“It’s all right.” Ada waved her hand. “I wouldn’t want to come between a boy and his dog.” She went to Happy and patted his head.

“Archie, what are you doing back here?” A woman’s voice drew Ada’s attention to the house. Mrs. Tallent stood on the stoop, her hand shading her eyes as she gazed into the yard toward her son.

Ada strode toward her, eager to make the woman’s acquaintance. “Good morning, Mrs. Tallent, I’m Miss Ada Treadway. I asked Archie to bring me here first. I hope it’s all right and that you have time to meet with me. I’d like to ask you about your farm and see if there is anything you might need.”

Mrs. Tallent sized her up, her gaze moving from Ada’s straw bonnet to her sturdy boots. Ada returned the scrutiny, taking in the woman’s dark, curly hair and sharp green eyes. Like her son, she was tall, towering several inches over Ada. The woman appeared to be in her early thirties. “Come in.” She looked over Ada’s head to the yard. “Archie, feed the goats while you’re here, please.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Ada turned her head to see him and Happy take off. “I’ve hardly spent any time with your son, but he’s a lovely boy. You must be so proud of him.”

“I am. He has a good heart. Can I get you anything?”

Ada shook her head. “No, thank you. Do you want to sit?”

“For a few minutes, then I must get on. This is a busy time of day for me, especially since Archie isn’t here to help.”

Ada grimaced. “Oh, I’ve stolen your help.” Ada didn’t want the woman to spend the next week working overly hard to satisfy Ada’s need to travel about the estate.

Mrs. Tallent took a chair near the hearth and gestured for Ada to sit on the worn settee. “I’ve told Og he can’t have him this week. He’s paid for half days at Stonehill, and that’s what they can have.”

“I could ask his lordship to pay him for full days this week if that would help you.” Ada hadn’t realized their jaunts would be only half the day, but that was just as well so that she had time to make notes and plans.

“Not as much as having Archie here. I wish his lordship would hire proper grooms. I’d prefer Archie were here all day. He needs to focus more time on his studies as well as learn the farm since it will be his to manage.”

“I’m working on that,” Ada said with determination. “The grooms, I mean. Just last night, his lordship agreed to hire a steward, so I hope grooms are not far off, along with maids and perhaps even a butler.”

Mrs. Tallent gaped at her. “You’ve been here, what, a week?”

“Yes.” Based on Mrs. Tallent’s reaction and Mrs. Kempton’s attitude toward Warfield yesterday, Ada gathered that his tenants didn’t hold him in the highest opinion and seized the moment to further her investigation. “What do you know of his lordship?”

“What do you want to know?” Mrs. Tallent sounded somewhat guarded.

“I admit I’m curious about him. I’m employed by one of his closest friends—that’s how I came to be on this assignment. Which is to organize his ledgers.” Ada vaguely worried that she ought not share so much, but these people had a right to know about things that would affect their livelihood. And hopefully Ada’s efforts would do that, for the better.

“I didn’t realize he still had friends,” Mrs. Tallent said wryly. “I’ve lived on this estate since I married fifteen years ago. His lordship was away at school then. When he finished, he spent a few years sowing his wild oats before his father purchased him a commission in the army. Then he was mostly absent over the next several years.”

Sowing his wild oats? Ada had difficulty imagining Warfield enjoying anything. But of course he did, and she’d seen glimpses of it yesterday. Perhaps the first step in rehabilitating him was believing it could be done.

“Was he a rake?” Ada asked, still trying to see the viscount as a carefree young man. Without scars, both inside and out. With his face, he probably was a rake.

“I don’t know about that, just that his father called him home and made him choose between an army commission and a living as a vicar.”

If thinking of him as a rake was challenging, Ada had even less success imagining him as a vicar. “Do you know if there was anything he liked to do? Besides sow his wild oats.”

“He was an excellent rider. He rode all over the estate, apparently from when he was a very young lad. But when he came home after being wounded, he sold most of the horses at Stonehill, including his, which had gone with him to Spain.”

That sounded rather sad. “Do you know why?”

Mrs. Tallent lifted a shoulder. “No one does. The speculation is that he was wounded on horseback and perhaps that’s why he doesn’t care to ride anymore.”

“Only it doesn’t sound like his horse was wounded.” Furthermore, he’d suffered burns. How did that happen while riding? Before Ada went completely down the rabbit hole of her curiosity and thoroughly wasted Mrs. Tallent’s precious time, she reined herself in. “I suppose selling off horses made him think he didn’t need as many grooms working in the stables?”

“I believe that was the case. He’s also quite accomplished at driving people away with his surly behavior. The steward had suffered enough, which was too bad because he was excellent.”

“I don’t suppose he’d come back?” Ada asked.

“I highly doubt it. He went to work for an earl in Staffordshire. Unless he’s unhappy there. But he was unhappy here, and I suspect nothing could lure him back.”

That was a shame. Still, it might be best for everyone, especially Warfield, to start anew with someone who wasn’t aware of his disagreeability.

Except Ada suspected his reputation was probably well known.

She exhaled, committed to improving things. Just because something was difficult didn’t mean it shouldn’t be done. Difficult things were often those that were most worth doing.

Ada went back to the matter of the stable. “Is that how Archie came to work in the stable? When the grooms left?”

“Not long after. And Molly’s been working in the kitchens for about six months now. Mrs. Debley is in desperate need of help. Molly is exhausted when she gets home. At least they pay her well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let her do it.”

Having the necessary funds wasn’t the issue, and yet the viscount wouldn’t hire more help. Anger curled through Ada as she recalled her best friend, Prudence, and how she’d needed money from him recently—for a dowry so she could marry her destitute husband—and he’d refused. She suddenly wanted to turn around and go back to Stonehill, where she would demand an explanation from him for why he’d treated Prudence so badly. There wouldn’t be a good one, and she’d bloody well shame him for it. How could he not realize how he was affecting those around him?

“You must need Molly here at home too,” Ada said.

“I’d prefer it. The farm is a great deal of work. But at least his lordship allowed us to stay after my husband died last year.”

This was what confused Ada so much. Why was Warfield kind about some things and ruthlessly horrid about others? “I have a hard time understanding his lordship.”

“We all do,” Mrs. Tallent said wearily. “You must know that tenants have left when their lease expired. Others plan to do the same.”

The awful truth was that Ada didn’t think he cared. But he should. “I would think he’d want to preserve this for the next viscount, that it’s his responsibility to do so.”

Mrs. Tallent flicked something from her skirt. “I don’t think he has any plans to have an heir. He barely leaves the house and certainly doesn’t do anything social.”

“Perhaps he’s still recovering from his wounds?”

“If his wounds include a broken heart, then yes.”

Ada’s curiosity forced her forward in her chair, eager to know more. “Why would you say that?”

“He was quite different before he went to Spain. He was charming, even flirtatious. He seems to have recovered from his wounds—he had a pronounced limp when he first came home but doesn’t any longer—however, he is a completely changed man, a hollow shell, really.” There was no mistaking the pity in her voice.

“You think his heart was broken?”

“I think it’s possible that whatever happened to him in Spain goes beyond a battle that damaged his body.”

That certainly seemed likely, given his demeanor. Ada already knew his angry fa?ade hid the real man. Or was that man gone forever?

He couldn’t be. People could recover from horrible things. Ada had. More than once.

She could show him how to find himself again, to experience joy. Except that wasn’t her objective in coming here. Lucien had asked her to organize his ledgers, not bring back the man they all remembered.

Even so, wouldn’t Lucien want her to do that? He missed his friend and was frustrated by this beastly version who refused friendship and family. He could have a half sister, but preferred his isolation.

“I’m taking up too much of your time, Mrs. Tallent.” Ada opened her ledger and made a few notes. “Before I go, would you mind telling me about your farm and whether you need any improvements?”

“Certainly.”

Over the next quarter hour, Mrs. Tallent gave Ada a thorough accounting of their farm, even showing her the farm’s ledgers. Ada was thoroughly impressed by the woman and decided she would make an excellent steward if she wasn’t already a farmer.

“Do you like farming?” Ada asked.

Mrs. Tallent shrugged. “It’s all we have. I worry that things are changing, that it will be harder for Archie. I would have liked for him to go to school.”

“Perhaps he still can,” Ada said, her mind working. “Molly too, if you wanted her to.”

“I don’t know how any of that would be possible,” Mrs. Tallent responded, sounding bemused.

Ada set the farm’s ledger on a table between her and Mrs. Tallent. “I mentioned that his lordship will be hiring a steward, and I’m going to suggest he consider you.”

Mrs. Tallent gaped at her. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t want that job. He’s awful to work for.” Her shoulders twitched. “I’d like to get my children away from his household.”

“I understand why you would feel that way, but what if he were different, more like the man he used to be?”

Mrs. Tallent scoffed. “Then I would think about it. However, he isn’t different, and the man he used to be is long gone.”

Yes, he was, but Ada now hoped with great conviction that she could bring him back. “I have one more week,” she said with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Hopefully, I can get you to change your mind.”

“The fact that he’s even considering making changes is a huge step forward. It seems you may be just what he needs.” Mrs. Tallent stood. “Still, I’m not going to hold my breath. I’ve a farm to tend.”

“You do indeed.” Ada clutched her ledger as she got to her feet. “Thank you again for your time and for your son’s time. I will do my best to effect positive change at Stonehill.”

“That would be wonderful,” Mrs. Tallent said. “But promise me you won’t be disappointed if you fail. It won’t be your fault.”

“I promise.” It was an easy one to make, because Ada wasn’t going to fail.