Chapter 8

After taking breakfast in his study the following morning, Max made his way into the library knowing Miss Treadway was out with Archie. He also hadn’t dined with her last night.

Because he was avoiding her.

Yet he was unable to ignore her invitation to review her work. So here he was, about to sit at her table and go through her ledgers.

Hertable. Her ledgers. How quickly he’d adapted to her presence.

He spent the next hour reading through her notes, part of them, anyway—she’d written an astonishing amount. It was an excellent overview of Stonehill and the tenants. He would need to read all of it. And try not to feel defeated.

Hell, she really could be his steward. She was more than qualified. She was at least more qualified than him, which probably wasn’t saying much.

If she was his steward, she’d live here. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate that. Not because he found her annoying—which he still did—but because she’d tempt him in ways he didn’t want to be tempted.

He hadn’t been with a woman in years. Not since Spain. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. It was natural that after kissing her the other night that he wanted her. Especially since he’d kissed her thinking she was Lucia.

Until he realized he wasn’t dreaming, that he was awake. That it was Miss Treadway in his bed. Somehow, he’d mustered the fortitude to pull away. And it had haunted him since.

Last night had been a torture he’d forgotten—longing for a woman and not being able to have her. She’d sat on the other end of the settee, not terribly far, but she might as well have been in India.

The entire time he’d been consumed with thoughts of her—her lips on his, her body writhing beneath him, the touch of her hand on his neck as her tongue tangled with his. Hell, he was growing hard thinking of her now.

Had she given the kiss a second thought? Or did she think he’d been in the throes of his nightmare, unaware of what he’d done? She hadn’t mentioned it, but then neither had he. He was too ashamed for taking advantage.

And so he’d pretended to read the book about sheep instead of engaging her. She’d tried and he’d remained aloof. Hell yes, he’d been a rake in his youth, but to admit that would be to open a part of himself that was long buried. That carefree lad was gone, killed in Spain, never to return.

Oh, but what a time he’d had those years in London, swanning about with Lucien and Dougal MacNair. Occasionally, his brother Alec would come along. Max smiled, thinking of the good times they’d shared. Until his father had put a stop to their fun.

Max indulged a moment of emotion—he missed his brother. Learning Alec had died when he returned from Spain had been a crushing blow. He simply hadn’t known how he was going to manage. So he didn’t.

You aren’t really alone.

No, he supposed he wasn’t. Apparently, he had a half sister. He now recalled the young woman who’d come here looking for a job several months earlier—just before Yuletide. She hadn’t revealed her identity, not her real one. If she had, would he have employed her?

He didn’t like the answer.

Thankfully, Lucien had been here that day, and Miss Treadway said he’d helped her—Prudence. Lucien had done that again when he’d come here recently pleading for her dowry. Twice, Lucien had rescued Max’s half sister when he wouldn’t. Because he’d been too mired in his despair.

He really was the horrible beast everyone thought. But he knew that already. Hadn’t he aspired to be that awful? It was the best way to ensure everyone left him alone.

Now it seemed he might be ready to…not be alone.

Miss Treadway was right about his half sister, as she was turning out to be about so many things. Their father’s adultery wasn’t her fault. Max was angry with his father, whom he’d admired and whose legacy he couldn’t possibly live up to. Especially after what Max had done in Spain.

Max took a breath to soothe his suddenly thundering heart.

You were thinking about your half sister.

Yes, her. Prudence. Perhaps he should give her the dowry.

He sat back in the chair. Damn. Just look at all the change Miss Treadway had wrought in not even ten days in his household. She was a veritable storm, leaving devastation in her path.

Was she really, though?

In truth, he felt better today than he had in years. He probably owed that to her. He should thank her, but he doubted he would. He wanted to kiss her again so that she would know it was him and not some fevered dream. But he wouldn’t do that either.

She would leave in a few days, and he’d let her go. He just hoped the light wouldn’t go with her.

“I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.”

Ada looked over at Mrs. Tallent as they walked from the stables to the house. “I understand you’re nervous, but I truly believe this is an easy and excellent answer to what the estate needs.”

Mrs. Tallent narrowed one eye at Ada. “His lordship is supportive of this?”

“Er, yes.” Ada hadn’t found the time to speak with him about Mrs. Tallent specifically, but she was running out of time. “I believe he’s ready to hire a steward.”

“But is he ready to hire me?”

“He needs someone as soon as possible, and you are more than capable.”

“I am also a woman,” she said wryly. “I don’t know a single man who would employ a woman as a steward.”

Ada could understand that view. She’d been shocked when Evie had wanted to bring her back to London so she could work as a bookkeeper at a private club. But Evie had been confident that the owner—Lucien—would hire her. What Ada hadn’t realized was that Lucien saw Evie as a partner in the business. He was the owner, and she was the manager, overseeing the daily operations with Ada’s help. It was a unique and surprising relationship. Would Warfield be open to a similar arrangement with a woman?

She hoped so, or this meeting could go very badly.

They entered the house, and Ada took Mrs. Tallent to Warfield’s study, only to find it empty. Puzzled, she went into the library, but he wasn’t there either. Perhaps she should have organized this in advance. But why would she bother when he was always here?

Looking out the windows to the messy garden, she gaped. There he was, elbow-deep in overgrown greenery.

“This way,” Ada said, taking Mrs. Tallent into the drawing room next to the library, which had doors leading outside. “He’s in the garden, apparently.”

As they stepped into the sunlight, Mrs. Tallent gasped. “My goodness. The garden is…in need of attention.”

“There haven’t been gardeners for at least a year.”

“I’d say longer than that,” Mrs. Tallent observed with a cluck of her tongue.

They walked past some overgrown beds to where Warfield was working—in the rose garden. Ada nearly smiled. Had their conversation about flowers the other night prompted him to action? Whatever the reason, Ada was shocked. And thrilled. This was surely a good sign for positive change.

As they reached the rose garden, he stood straight and adjusted his hat. Brown gloves encased his hands, and he was working without a cravat. Ada’s gaze was drawn to the exposed flesh at his throat. She was catapulted back to a few nights ago when he’d sprawled on top of her kissing her senselessly as she clutched at him. Heat spiked through her, and it wasn’t from the early afternoon sun.

“My lord, I’ve brought Mrs. Tallent. I’m sure you’ve met at some point. Her son, Archie, works in the stables, and her daughter, Molly, helps in the kitchen.”

He looked at Ada in mild amusement. “I know who Mrs. Tallent is as well as her children.”

Of course he did. “Well, yes. I’ll get right to the point, then. I’d mentioned to you that I may have found the perfect candidate for the steward position.”

Warfield darted a glance toward Mrs. Tallent, but spoke to Ada. “Her?”

Oh dear, that wasn’t the reaction she’d been hoping for. She slid a look toward Mrs. Tallent. As expected, she appeared perturbed. Her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed. Perhaps this had been a bad idea—not Mrs. Tallent being the steward, but the way in which Ada had gone about it.

Stiffening her spine, she refused to let this go badly.

“Mrs. Tallent keeps excellent records of her farm, and I must say hers is the most efficient and most profitable on the estate. She would be an excellent steward. Furthermore, you could then lease her farm, and this would allow her children to attend school, which she would like them to do.”

Warfield seemed to assess Mrs. Tallent. “I see.”

Ada held her breath. He wasn’t saying no. Nor did he seem annoyed by this beyond his initial poor reaction.

“You’d rather not be a farmer?” he asked Mrs. Tallent.

“My husband was the farmer. I’m just doing what I must to provide for my children. I’m not sure Archie wants to be a farmer either. He’s very good with the horses—Og will tell you. But he’s also very good at mathematics. Honestly, he’d probably make an excellent steward someday.”

Ada heard the motherly pride in Mrs. Tallent’s voice and felt a surge of envy. She would likely never be a mother—she’d have to marry to do that, and she just didn’t see that happening.

You don’t have to marry to be a mother, and you know that.

It was as if an icy hand reached across Ada’s shoulder. She twitched, hoping to banish the chill.

“I’ll consider it,” Warfield said, then turned back to pulling giant weeds from the garden.

“I’m still considering it too, my lord,” Mrs. Tallent said, making Ada tense. “I’d want to know that this would be a long-term engagement. My children need stability, and if I give up the farm, I need to know I can care for them.”

“Of course you do,” Ada said, looking toward the viscount. “His lordship knows that and would ensure you were content in your new position for years to come.” She gave him an expectant stare.

He grunted as he tossed a tall weed from the bed. “Nothing in life is guaranteed. Work hard and do your best. That’s all we can do.”

“We can also be kind and pleasant in our work,” Mrs. Tallent said plainly. The expectation was clear—at least to Ada. She wanted to be sure the viscount wouldn’t be his usual beastly self.

“The viscount is committed to change at Stonehill.” Ada looked from one to the other, noting that each seemed guarded. “He’s hiring retainers and providing aid to tenants. Indeed, one of the first things you’ll do as steward is arrange repairs on several farms. His lordship wholly supports that endeavor and will provide you whatever you need—cheerfully.”

Perhaps she exaggerated. Given the looks both Warfield and Mrs. Tallent directed at her, they knew it too.

“Aspiration is a lovely thing,” Mrs. Tallent said evenly.

“I’ll consider this.” Warfield’s tone was gruff, but his expression beneath the brim of his hat conveyed honesty. He would consider it. Ada felt a surge of relief with a dollop of glee. He was making such progress!

Mrs. Tallent curtsied. “It was a pleasure to see you today, my lord.”

She turned, and Ada walked with her back toward the house. “You can go around that way to reach the stables.” Ada gestured to the right, knowing Archie was waiting for her.

“I will, thank you.” Mrs. Tallent paused. “His lordship did seem different. You must be a magician.”

Ada laughed. “Hardly. I’m just persistently optimistic. It’s gotten me this far.”

“You are a delightful person, Miss Treadway. I hope I’ll see you again.”

“I hope so too.” Ada thought they might cross paths once more before she left. But, goodness, that was in only a few days. Today was Friday, and the coach from London would arrive Monday. She’d be leaving first thing Tuesday.

Ada watched Mrs. Tallent for a moment before turning back to the garden. She had to know what had prompted Warfield’s gardening.

He was still ruthlessly pulling weeds from the dirt in the rose garden. He did not look up as she approached.

“That went very well,” she said.

“You should have told me.” He still didn’t look at her, and his jaw clenched as he worked.

“I did tell you I had someone in mind.”

He paused, throwing another weed from the bed and spearing her with a dark glare. “But not that it was Mrs. Tallent or that you planned to ambush me with her today.”

Ada flinched. She’d hoped he’d moved past such fits of pique. But in this, he had a right to be at least…annoyed. “I should have done, my apologies. I’m just running out of time to get everything done.”

“Then perhaps you should arrange to stay longer,” he grumbled, plucking at another weed.

What a change this was. Would she stay? It was a moot question because she couldn’t. “I need to get back to London. This was a temporary assignment. I have responsibilities I can’t ignore.”

His shoulders twitched, and when he threw the next weed, it landed at her feet, sending dirt onto the bottom of her skirt. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said.

She understood his reaction, quietly saying, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were ignoring your responsibilities.”

“But I was, wasn’t I?” He stood still, breathing heavily, and put his hands on his hips. “I’m afraid these roses have gone wild.”

“They may need a trim,” Ada suggested. “I’m no expert. I’ll hire a gardener as soon as possible. Or Mrs. Tallent will. If you decide to hire her.”

He only grunted in response.

Ada moved to the corner of the bed and grasped a stem to pull a rose toward her so she could smell it. Her finger pressed into a thorn. She gasped, pulling her hand back.

“What is it?” Warfield moved quickly to her as blood beaded on her finger.

With her thumb, Ada smeared the blood to better see the wound. Just a small puncture. “I found a thorn.”

“That’s a rather accurate metaphor for your visit, isn’t it?” Warfield said, sounding angry. “You grabbed that rose without care, and look what you’ve done.”

Ada stared at him, uncertain why he was so furious.

“You’ve done nothing but upend my life since you arrived. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it.”

The pain in Ada’s finger dulled as she suffered his ire. It was as if all the progress they’d made together had evaporated when she’d pierced her finger. She didn’t understand. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “It was an accident—I wasn’t careless.” She felt defensive. When Clara had died, her mother had called her careless, and her siblings had echoed that sentiment for months until Ada had finally left.

“I didn’t mean—” His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his hands fisting briefly at his sides. He shook his shoulders out. “My apologies.” He stalked to the house without another word, leaving her to stare after him, wondering why things had taken a turn.

He’s wounded both inside and out.

Prudence’s words came back to Ada. She’d seen it herself. Whatever had happened to him in Spain had left an indelible mark. Ada had no idea if he could truly recover. Perhaps he would just have good days and bad. For the rest of his life. Her heart ached for him, but what more could she do? She’d be leaving soon.

Then she’d likely never see him again. It was time to distance herself. Perhaps he realized that too. His behavior a few minutes earlier would certainly make it easier for her to leave. And easier for her to avoid another situation like Jonathan.

She had learned from her mistakes!

Buoyed by this, Ada returned to the house in search of Mrs. Bundle. She found the housekeeper cleaning the front sitting room near the entry hall.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Bundle, but I wanted to share the good news that your two new housemaids will be starting on Monday. Teresa Chapman, who is currently helping Mrs. Kempton, and Mary Wendell.”

Mrs. Bundle wiped her hands on her apron as she stood from cleaning beneath a chair. “I’m familiar with them both, and they’ll be excellent additions. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have help.”

“They are also thrilled,” Ada noted with a smile. “I think they find moving here to be a grand adventure.”

“And you’ll still be here to welcome them,” Mrs. Bundle said. “I’m so glad you’ll be able to see the fruits of your labor—at least a glimpse of it, anyway. I’m astounded by all you’ve accomplished.”

Ada merely nodded in response.

“I must confess I’m concerned about when you leave. What if his lordship reverts to his old self?”

That was perhaps already happening. Ada hoped not. A thought struck her—was his mood today because she was leaving soon? Was he going to miss her? A happy jolt shot through her, but she tamped it down. What a ludicrous idea. She annoyed him.

But only for three more days. Then she’d be on her way, and he could be free of her forever.