Chapter 7

Somehow, Max had been able to find sleep again after Miss Treadway had left. “Miss Treadway.” That was an awfully formal way to think of someone he’d kissed so thoroughly and desperately.

Or so he thought. He’d kissed someone—it had been too real to be a dream. Except his dreams, or more accurately, his nightmares always felt disturbingly real.

But she’d been there, in his bed, so he had to believe he’d kissed her. His body had certainly been aroused as if he had.

He wasn’t going to ask her for confirmation. Better to just pretend it hadn’t happened or at least that he didn’t remember it happening.

He had to admit that made him feel a little cowardly. Or something unsettling.

Finishing with his cravat, he looked at himself in the mirror. Unfortunately, he still didn’t like what he saw and doubted he ever would. He turned to grab his coat and hesitated, his fingers brushing the sleeve. Then he gritted his teeth and pulled it on, along with the guilt and sadness that accompanied the daily act.

Putting on a coat. Riding a horse. Eating a meal. Simple things he should be able to do, but couldn’t without suffering.

Ada’s words from the night before lingered in his mind: Guilt is a terrible thing. It will eat at you until there’s nothing left.

He wondered if he was getting close to that end.

Then he thought of everything else she’d revealed to him. She was a woman of amazing courage and strength. To think of her at fifteen, overwhelmed with guilt and grief, and driven away by the only family she had left made him want to take her in his arms and hold her until every last remnant of those terrible emotions washed away. But he feared they couldn’t. He didn’t expect his guilt or grief ever would.

Perhaps things could improve for him, however. She’d managed it. She’d dragged herself from the darkness and forged a path forward. Not just to a peaceable existence, but to actual happiness. He saw real joy in her. That she could experience that after all she’d been through made him wonder what the hell was wrong with him.

She was likely just stronger than him. If he were lucky, he could learn something from her.

Too bad he wasn’t lucky.

Max went downstairs to the breakfast room, a place he hadn’t been to in years. Not since before he’d returned from Spain.

The room was empty, unfortunately, but the food was covered on the sideboard. Perhaps Miss Treadway hadn’t come down yet.

He filled his plate with more food than he could ever eat and sat down at the small round table where he’d had years of breakfasts with his parents and his brother, Alexander. He and Alec would compete over who could eat more kippers.

“Good morning!” Miss Treadway’s cheerful greeting startled him, which she seemed to realize. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to surprise you.” She sailed to the sideboard and dished up her food before joining him at the table.

“Good morning,” he said gruffly, not entirely certain how he ought to behave with her after last night.

They ate in silence for a moment, but he’d come to know her well enough that he recognized she wanted to say something. He decided to help her for once. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you. I must apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have come to your room, and I should not have shared so much. It’s a bad habit, I’m afraid.” Bright color swathed her cheeks, and she took a bite of eggs.

“What’s a bad habit?” he asked, wondering if she meant invading his room or oversharing.

“Trusting people too easily.” She lifted a shoulder. “I look for connection with people when there sometimes isn’t any. Or shouldn’t be,” she muttered.

He wanted to ask what she meant, but didn’t. She’d just said she was trying not to trust people too easily. Perhaps she meant him, particularly since she was apologizing.

She waved her fork. “I’m hopelessly doomed to try to make friends with everyone.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he said, wondering if he could try that. Well, perhaps not that exactly, but something like it. She’d talked about living instead of existing. That appealed to him, even if he didn’t quite know how to go about doing so.

He supposed he could start by taking notice of those around him, by caring for his retainers and his tenants. “You can hire people for the household—maids for the kitchen and Mrs. Bundle.”

She stared at him, her fork frozen above her plate. “Can I?”

“No valet. I’ll consider a butler, but he has to be just right. And I’ll speak to Og about the grooms.”

“Thank goodness. I’d rather not have to manage that aspect. Speaking to Og, I mean. Would you like me to see about hiring grooms after you do so?”

“Yes, please. I doubt Og would do it even if I asked.”

“I’m so thrilled.” Her enthusiasm nearly made him smile. She stood and went to pour herself a cup of tea, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Would you like a cup?”

“I prefer coffee in the morning.”

Nodding, she found the coffee, poured him some, then returned to the table with both.

“To new beginnings,” she said, lifting her tea toward him.

“Er, yes.” He raised his coffee awkwardly, and she tapped her cup against his.

After swallowing, she said, “You won’t regret this.”

He didn’t think he would. In fact, he felt a tad lighter already. After a few more bites and another drink of coffee, he set his napkin on the table.

“You’re finished?” she asked.

“I thought I’d go and speak with Og now.”

“Why do you never finish eating?” she blurted.

He tensed. The Max he’d been would have told her to mind her own business, and he would have stamped from the room. Instead, he took a steadying breath. “I lose my appetite.”

She almost looked surprised that he’d answered. “Why?”

The urge to glower at her and simply walk away was overwhelming. While he didn’t want to do that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to give her an honest answer either. He wavered on whether to politely decline to answer or—and this made him queasy—respond with the truth.

“My meal was interrupted once, and I haven’t been able to finish one since.” He didn’t give her the details, but they rose in his mind. The summer evening, the boy running to tell him that he’d seen soldiers coming from where Lucia had been cleaning clothes, the terror that erupted inside him as he ran to find out what had happened. The bloody ribbon…

“Does that frustrate you? Not being able to finish meals, I mean.” She leaned toward him slightly in what appeared to be genuine concern.

“I haven’t thought too deeply about it, but I suppose it does, particularly since Mrs. Debley is such a fine cook.”

“Hmmm. I will ponder this.”

Max realized that she saw him as something to fix. While she wasn’t wrong, he didn’t like being the subject of such scrutiny. Though, he suspected that was precisely what had been happening since she’d arrived. She was, rather openly and unapologetically, a very inquisitive and managing person.

“You needn’t bother.” He stood. “I’m not your assignment, Miss Treadway, as much as you’d like me to be.” She had provoked him to make a few changes, but that would be the extent of it.

She pursed her lips before he turned to take his leave. Max didn’t look back.

He made his way directly to the stables, finding Og with Topaz. “Good morning, Og.”

Og looked up from brushing the horse. “‘Good morning’? You look like his lordship, but you can’t be him.”

“Have I never said good morning to you?”

“Not in a long while.” Og grunted. “I hope that chit isn’t charming you.”

“She’s doing her damnedest.” Max nearly smiled, and that would certainly set Og off. “I came to talk to you about hiring grooms.”

“Bah, I don’t need anyone. Don’t bother.”

“We can’t keep relying on Archie. His mother needs him at her farm.”

Og frowned, then spat into the corner of the stall. “He’s a good helper.”

“I’m going to hire at least one groom. You aren’t as spry as you once were, Og. You ought to take things easier.”

“Don’t you put me out to pasture yet,” Og said grumpily.

“I will never do that.” Max felt a particular kinship to this man and to Mrs. Debley. They’d known him his entire life. He thought about Miss Treadway and how she had no one like that. At least, it seemed she didn’t if her family had pushed her out, and she now lived so far from where she’d been born and raised.

“What’s prompted this?” Og asked. “Is it the chit?”

“She has—correctly—pointed out that several people on the estate are overworked.”

“I’m not.” He sounded offended at the insinuation.

“Perhaps, but as I said, you can’t keep using Archie, so we will hire someone.” Max noted the usually tense set of Og’s jaw and the general air of irritation he carried. Was that how Max looked? “Do you ever tire of being angry and gruff all the time?” he asked somewhat quietly, his attention moving to Topaz.

Og grunted again. “I don’t think of myself that way. I don’t think the animals would say I’m grumpy, would you, girl?” He stroked Topaz’s neck, and his expression actually softened.

Perhaps animals would help Max. For the first time in ages, he thought of his beloved horse, Arrow, whom he’d sold upon returning from Spain. He wouldn’t even have brought him back to England, but Max had been in no condition to manage anything, and someone had seen fit to return Arrow along with him.

Max felt a pang of remorse over the loss of his horse. Poor Arrow. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d been a noble and tireless friend and partner. Without him, Max would not have found vengeance.

And that was why he’d had to let him go. Just the thought of riding a horse, let alone Arrow, took Max back to that day and night. Could he really never ride a horse again? He realized in that moment that he was afraid to try.

Pivoting slightly, Max tentatively touched Topaz’s forelock. “You are a good girl, aren’t you?” She nudged his hand, and he stroked her in earnest. Something within him relaxed. Perhaps Og had found a secret with caring for the animals.

“You thinking of riding?” Og asked, as if he’d been privy to Max’s thoughts.

“Perhaps.” But not yet. Maybe never. But he was thinking about it, and that was a change.

He seemed to be taking small steps forward. He just prayed he didn’t fall.

Ada’s hand moved quickly across the parchment as she recorded notes from her day. She’d spent the morning touring the estate with Archie, and the afternoon reviewing very old estate ledgers to see how it was run more than fifty years ago. Some things were different, and yet much was the same. Warfield’s grandfather had been very involved in the management.

In fact, one of the tenants she’d met that day had gone on and on about how wonderful the man had been. That was what had prompted Ada to dig up these ledgers. That particular tenant, Mr. Hardy, was in his sixties, and he was not happy with the current state of things. He needed new equipment, his cottage was in desperate need of repair, and his requests for assistance had gone unanswered. His lease would be up next year, but at his age, he didn’t want to leave. Ada had reassured him that she would ensure his needs were met—and not at some indeterminate time in the future. She’d address them posthaste.

Mr. Hardy had also been informative about a number of things. Shockingly, he’d shared that Warfield had been a rake. Mr. Hardy had indicated that nearly every woman on the estate had swooned over him and his older brother when they’d ridden about as young men. It was “bloody aggravating” because they were distracting.

Ada had stifled a laugh. She tried to imagine a handsome, grinning Warfield galloping across the estate with his probably equally handsome brother while every woman fell madly in love with them. She could see it quite easily. He’d already somehow wiggled his way into her sentiments—she cared about him more than she ever expected to. But it was more than that. She was drawn to him like a bee to honey. She wanted to know everything about him. And she wanted to touch him. Everywhere.

Work, Ada!

She could hear Prudence now, telling her she was far too romantic for her own good. It was true. Ada often wondered if the circumstances of her split from her family had driven her to constantly crave connection and love.

She shook her head. Never mind that now.

Her thoughts went back to Mr. Hardy. He’d told Ada that Max’s horse—he was called Arrow—had been sold in London at Tattersall’s. As soon as she finished these notes, she planned to pen a letter to Lucien asking if he could possibly find the animal.

She was so involved in her task and in thinking that she didn’t hear the viscount until he cleared his throat. Pausing her pen, she looked up to see him standing not far from her table. He was dressed as usual in his outdated coat and waistcoat and his simply knotted cravat. If she hadn’t known he didn’t have a valet, she might have guessed it. Perhaps she could persuade him to at least buy new garments. There had to be a tailor in the village. She should have asked when she’d gone to hire Teresa to help Mrs. Kempton. Ah well, she’d be making another visit the following day to hopefully hire maids and grooms. Mrs. Bundle was ecstatic at the prospect of having help, even if she didn’t quite believe it. She’d also advised Ada not to say anything to Mrs. Debley until she had a kitchen maid already employed. Then the cook couldn’t refuse. Or so Mrs. Bundle thought.

Ada found the cook’s loyalty to the viscount endearing, if a little frustrating. She realized she’d been woolgathering once again while Warfield was staring at her. “Good evening, my lord. What a surprise to see you here at this hour. Can I be of help?”

His gaze flicked to the open ledger before her. “You’re still working?”

“Just finishing up. Give me one moment.” She wrote another two lines, then set her pen down. She’d draft the letter to Lucien later. “All done,” she said, turning in her chair to face him. She saw he had a book in his hand. “Is that another ledger for me?”

“Er, no. It’s a book. For me to read. I thought I might join you in your relaxation time this evening. That is what you called it?”

“Oh!” Ada shot out of her chair in shock and awe. He’d come to read with her? Had something happened last night to change his opinion of her? The kissing perhaps? Her gaze strayed to his very tantalizing mouth, which was a grave mistake because she could practically feel his lips on hers and the resulting pleasure that stirred in other, more private areas. “Yes, time to relax.” She wasn’t sure she could do that around him after last night. Did he even remember the kiss? She was fairly certain he’d been asleep. It was possible, if not likely, that even if he did recall it, he thought it was a dream.

“Will you mind if I read my romance novel?” she asked, wondering if she ought not tease him. Probably not, but it was too late now.

One of his golden brows arched, and she saw the rake he’d once been. “No. I will be reading about sheep.”

“Splendid.” She was encouraged by his choice of subject matter. Perhaps he meant to truly take a more active role at Stonehill. “Shall we sit together?” She was already moving toward the settee in the center of the library before realizing that was a rather forward invitation for a secretary who wasn’t really a secretary to make. But was it, when that secretary who wasn’t really a secretary had been in your bed the night before?

She really needed to stop thinking about that.

Her eye moved to a chair, and she wondered if she ought to sit there instead. Except she’d suggested they sit together and if she sat in a chair now, she’d look silly. Or stupid.

Ada dropped onto the settee and held her breath. He sat down at the other end. They weren’t really sitting together, but they were on the same piece of furniture. She realized he could be sitting across the room, and it wouldn’t matter. She was still intensely aware of his presence and of her growing desire for him.

No, she would not take that path again. She would not repeat the mistakes she’d made with Jonathan.

“I had a very productive day,” she said, pretending he wanted to know. “Archie is an excellent guide.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll be visiting the village again to hire two kitchen maids, a housemaid in addition to Teresa, who is currently helping Mrs. Kempton and will hopefully come here after, another footman, and a pair of grooms. Mrs. Bundle was thrilled that you decided to expand the household.”

“She mentioned that when she brought my dinner. I can see it’s made her happy. I should have done it sooner.”

Ada didn’t want him to wallow. He was on the cusp of making true progress; she was certain of it. “It only matters that you’re doing it now.”

He grunted in response.

She wanted to ask why he hadn’t joined her for dinner again. She’d hoped he might, especially since he’d had breakfast with her. But she didn’t want to put pressure on him.

He opened his book, and she took the signal that he was ready to read, not talk. Ada found her place and began to read. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very successful at retaining anything on the page.

Casting him a sideways glance and seeing that he was actually reading, she tried again. He was so distracting! Not just because she was now attracted to him. He was interesting. She wanted to ask him a million things. And unlike when she’d first arrived, he now occasionally answered her.

Was he remotely intrigued by her? Let alone attracted to her? She had no way of knowing, especially since their kiss was probably unknown to him. Should she tell him and see how he responded? No, she wasn’t going to poke that bear.

Turning so that she was angled slightly toward him, she cast surreptitious glances in his direction. His attention didn’t waver from the book, and he turned pages at regular intervals. Ada cast her head back and looked up at the domed ceiling. Though it was dark, she could make out the flowers in the stained glass.

She simply couldn’t contain herself. “I’ve been meaning to ask about the flowers in the ceiling. And the rooms with the flower names. Someone must have loved flowers.”

His gaze lifted from the book and fixed on her. She felt a rush of anticipation, which was ludicrous. He was only looking at her!

“My great-grandmother loved flowers,” he said, thankfully appeasing her interminable curiosity. “And books. She had this library built, and she named all the bedchambers after flowers.”

“What’s yours called?”

“Except mine. My great-grandfather refused to let her name the viscount’s suite.”

“What about your room when you were younger? Did it have a flower name?”

“In her time, it was the Lily Room, but my father wouldn’t let anyone call it that. Or my brother’s chamber, which was the Peony Room. Indeed, the only rooms that really have flower names anymore are yours—the Primrose Room—and the one that used to belong to my great-grandmother. That adjoins my chamber and is called the Rose Room. Those were her favorite flowers.”

“Is there a rose garden? I’m afraid I couldn’t tell.” Because the gardens were in such bad shape.

“There is.” He grimaced. “Not that you can see it. I suppose I should hire a gardener to fix that.”

“I’d be happy to make inquiries while I’m in the village tomorrow.” She considered inviting him to accompany her, but she was almost certain he’d decline. Besides, she’d already courted rejection by inviting him to sit with her.

“You should do that.” He returned his attention to his book, and she was sorry the conversation was over so quickly. But then he surprised her yet again by looking toward her once more, an expression of bemusement etched into his handsome features. “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing on purpose.” That wasn’t precisely true. She was trying to bring forth his better nature—for those around him as much as for him.

“I can almost believe that,” he said softly and with a shocking dash of humor.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but in meeting the tenants around the estate, I’ve heard a number of things about you that stretch credulity.”

His brow quirked again, and damn if her breath didn’t catch. “Such as what?”

“That you were a rake. I struggle to see it.”

He exhaled, sounding weary. “That was a very long time ago.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“I barely remember it, to be honest.”

She doubted that, but he didn’t seem keen to discuss it, which was vastly disappointing. When his gaze dipped to his book once more, she didn’t interrupt again. She tried to focus on hers and even managed to read a few pages before he was the one to speak.

“How is your work coming overall? Will you be done in your allotted fortnight?”

“I should be, yes. I’ve five more days.” She still had several tenants to visit and had allotted two days at the end to write her report and finalize the ledgers to ensure they were current. Goodness, that wasn’t much time. Perhaps she should abandon her novel and return to work. Except sitting with him, even several feet away, was exceedingly pleasant.

“Good.”

His simple, emotionless response gave her the truth—he wanted to make sure she was still leaving as scheduled. He wanted her to know that even though she’d made progress, he didn’t want her to stay. Not that staying was an option. She needed to return to the Phoenix Club, to her real job. “I won’t stay past my welcome,” she assured him. “Furthermore, I’d be happy to share my progress. You’re welcome to review any of the ledgers as well as my notes.” She’d been careful not to document anything about him specifically. That information was stored entirely in her mind.

“I’ll consider that, thank you. Now, I think I must retire. Sheep, it happens, are rather sleep inducing.” He stood and inclined his head toward her, then departed the library.

Ada drooped back against the corner of the settee. She hadn’t realized how tense her body had been in his presence. She hadn’t felt like that on other occasions.

It’s because you want him.

Damn and blast, she didn’t want to want him. She was a grown woman who’d learned from her mistakes.

At least she bloody well hoped so.