Page 17 of Counting on Love

“Peters brought this. I intercepted. You were supposed to call me.”

“It’s only seven o’clock.”

“Coffee is no substitute for sleep.” Nevertheless, she set down the tray and poured him a cup.

He took it and confessed. “I slept.”

She snorted a laugh. It was good to hear.

“Your father did not wake at all?”

“If he did, he didn’t see fit to wake me.” Then he amended, “No. He’s been the same.” Then he lied. “I think his color is better this morning.”

She poured herself coffee. She handed him a cake but did not take one herself. He was ravenous. And Cook’s cakes were excellent, though he preferred her rolls. It was the fresh country butter, she’d told him once, pink with pleasure at his compliment. He devoured the cake—and found it disappointingly stale.

“Peters wishes to speak with you,” Mother said.

“With me?”

She nodded. “Go see what he wants. Then take care of yourself. I’m fine here.”

“All right.” He drank the dregs from his cup and went out to send for Peters, but found the man waiting just beyond the door. Peters was head butler at Chaumbers and had been for a decade. Reginald thought he was a few years younger than the Earl but as he had not changed in appearance in ten years, one could not be sure. He was competent. Haughty as the devil. Jasper liked him and would not be replacing him. Jasper liked everyone. Reginald found him stiff and self-important, but that was probably true of all competent butlers.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My lord, I regret to inform you that Mr. Bradwell has passed.”

Father’s steward. “Passed?” That was a gut punch. “When?”

“Three days ago.”

“Has Lord Taverston been notified?”

“I just received word last night. I thought to inform him in person.”

“I expect he’ll be here today.” Knowing Jasper, he was halfway to Chaumbers already. He would not wait to be summoned.

“Very good, sir.”

“Is there anything that needs immediate attention?”

“Not that I am aware of, my lord.”

“All right then. Thank you for informing me. I’ll discuss this with Lord Taverston when he arrives. I’m going to my chamber now. Do you know if Barclay is there or downstairs?”

“Downstairs, I believe.”

“Please let him know I require his assistance.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Reginald’s feet felt heavy as he trudged to his chamber. Bradwell’s passing was not so much a surprise as it was unwelcome news. The man had been in his eighties, practically an immortal. He’d retired six months ago when a lingering chest cold debilitated him. Truth was, he should have been pensioned off sooner, but with Father’s illness, nothing had been done. As they were not to alarm Father, no one told him of Bradwell’s decline. Jasper said he’d take care of hiring a new steward. Of course, it would be Jasper’s responsibility soon enough. And the man he wanted, Benjamin Carroll, was the perfect choice. An Oxford mate of Jasper’s. Not a gentleman by birth, but well-mannered and bright. The only problem was he had emigrated to Canada. Jasper said he would return. Reginald was not so sure. They needed him six months ago, and he had not returned yet.

He entered the bedchamber he’d left two months ago, no two and a half. Nothing had changed. Nothing but him. He felt he’d aged years. Was it only a week ago? Less? That he’d been dropped by the woman he paid to sleep with him? Ha! He sat on the bed and yanked off his shoes. Then unbuttoned his cuffs. His shirt stank and he was covered in the dust of the road.

Barclay knocked and entered. “I’ve ordered hot water brought up.”

“Enough to bathe?”