“Sadly, you’ll likely have to deal with the city and the Ton to some extent in your new role.You hold a seat in the House of Lords now, as well as a London home you should check on periodically.As a Member of Parliament, you have a responsibility to guide the country forward and help govern the people of Britain.”
“Geh.I thought having staff was too much responsibility.Is there someone I can pass this along to?”
“Come now,” North admonished with a half-smile.“Most men would give their left arm to get a title and a fat purse and retire from working life.It won’t be all bad.Plenty of ladies will be interested in entertaining a duke without looking for the title or money.Just be careful of the débutantes.”
“And the staff,” Bruce added.
“What?Why?Isn’t that a lord’s privilege?”Xander joked.
North snorted.
His brother frowned and continued.“They work for you.First, Ma would tell you ’tis the height of impropriety to take advantage of that role imbalance.Second, you don’t shite where you eat, brother.You should know that after Lisa.”
He humphed as North guffawed at his brother’s reference to the animosity from a server in the pub after he turned her down for a second night in his bed.
“Fine.”
Jacob Lancaster had written to his firm to investigate Munroe, the steward, and send their own evaluation at the earliest possible time.By the time Xander had a handful of new pieces of clothing and three days’ lessons done, he was more than ready to leave if only to escape the well-intentioned teachings of his family.His head was going to explode if he had to sit through one more meeting, scribbling notes and hoping his anxiety did not explode out of his chest.
He changed his mind about being ready when they stopped on the circular drive of Rutland Manor, however.The previous duke’s parents had both passed, and his sister had married and moved away, so he’d lived in this monstrosity alone when not in London.If Xander’s head or anything else exploded, it could take days for anyone to find him in this giant edifice.
Munroe gave him a tour of the place.The gardens alone were as big as the main street of Old Shoreston, where he’d spent the last decade of his life.As for the interior, he had no idea what he was expected to do with eleven guest chambers, several with their own sitting room, and two parlors, not one, a library, and a bloomingballroom.He supposed he’d learn.He’d rather not, though; he’d been perfectly content to make the tavern patrons’ lives a little better and easier by giving them a pint and a patient ear.Having staff, tenants, and more at other locations relying on him for their bread and butter was more stress than he’d ever looked for.Blazes, after watching his parents struggle to get ahead with two children even before his father’s death, he’d never even wooed a girl for fear of accountability.
* * * *
His first full day at Rutland, Xander alternated between meetings with Lancaster and Munroe that made him fear he’d never have adequate knowledge to run the dukedom, much less sit in Parliament.When his heart pounding in his chest moved to a pulse drumming in his temple, he requested a break to walk the gardens.
Munroe had looked confused when Xander asked the second time, and the London solicitor leaned in to say, “You’re the duke.We are here at your convenience, Your Grace.”
Apparently, politeness was not valued in dukes.He rolled his eyes again.
He’d asked what time supper would be served and got another strange expression from the housekeeper before she blinked and said, “Whatever time you’d like, Your Grace.”
The one bright spot in his new circumstances was his bed.The giant cherry wood bed frame with fancy carved posts in his fancy ducal bedroom was the first one large enough for his build.Between its size and the extravagant bedding, he slept better than he ever had.Although that might be from exhaustion.Managing a pub had been physically challenging, but the mental toll of his new world drained him in a different way.
After a few days of transition, Lancaster excused himself back to London, informing Xander that he was in capable hands with Munroe, and he was only a letter away.
Xander took another sennight to find a routine that worked for him.Irritation with all the demands waiting for him was slower, and he was less likely to take that out on Munroe if he used the mornings to read alone at the duke’s—his—massive desk in the library, allowing himself to feel overwhelmed when needed and to consolidate his questions.Munroe would join him in the afternoon, and they’d move to the small table and chairs by a window, where they’d work through whatever the next element of the dukedom Munroe thought he needed to learn that day.
This morning, he re-entered the library and plopped down in his chair.The desk faced the door with his back to the glass veranda doors so he turned to stare outside at the rolling fields.That view was more compelling than bookshelves and the hall door; he could not fathom why anyone would have placed the desk facing away from it.
Frustrated, he turned to start work.Wait a minute.He was a duke now.Stepping out into the hall, he called to the footman by the front door.“Hullo.I’m sorry, I have forgotten your name.”
“Ferguson, sir.How may I assist?”The man trotted over, bowing his head.
“No, your first name.”
The man’s eyes went wide.He swallowed and answered, “Duncan, sir.”
“Duncan, would you be so kind as to help me move the desk, please?”Xander wasn’t sure he’d ever rid himself of asking people when he wanted help or service.He didn’t care if other nobs expected it like their due, he’d never be like them.
“Of course.”The man stepped into the library.“Ah, let me call for another servant, sir.”
“Why?”
“I shan’t be able to move that alone without scraping the floors, and then Mrs.Betters will have my head.”
“Duncan,” Xander said on a sigh, trying to find his patience.“I am an able-bodied man who was lifting casks half his days until a fortnight ago.I will lift the other side.”
