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John frowned. “Should I be concerned about how she treats them? I won’t have it said that I run my staff into the ground.”
“Oh no, you needn’t concern yourself on that account. Make no mistake, they’re not deprived and eat well. It’s just that there isn’t normally quite so much left over for the servants to enjoy. We could all eat for a week on what Cook has served this morning!”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She watched him closely for several seconds before speaking. “You’ve no doubt guessed that the butler and head housekeeper are married. Do you have any concerns about that?”
She was chewing on that damn lower lip again, and he had to resist the urge to tell her to stop.
“As long as their relationship doesn’t interfere with their management of the household, I don’t see that my opinion matters one way or the other.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. They wed with Uncle’s blessing just before he passed away. Mrs. Hastings mentioned at that time that other households would discourage the relationship.”
John gave his head a confused shake. “To what end? Their relationship would continue; they’d just do a better job of hiding it. And secrets are never a good thing. Better to have everything out in the open.”
Chapter 11
She froze at Lowenbrock’s wordsand had to remind herself to continue breathing. His words felt as though they’d been aimed directly at her.
For a moment she considered telling him the truth about their first meeting but quickly discarded the notion. Markham’s haste to have her return to Yorkshire and his warning that the future marquess mustn’t learn about her research trip to London kept playing in her mind. Lowenbrock might not approve of her continuing to live at Brock Manor if he thought she made a habit of frequenting taverns.
She looked down at her plate and picked up the toast she’d abandoned, nibbling on it as an excuse to remain silent.
She’d only been inside a tavern that one time and for very good reason, but he might not believe her. She’d told him that Markham had promised to look after her. It would follow, therefore, that Lowenbrock might think he was lying on her behalf if questioned about that evening.
This entire situation was a mess. She peeked up at Lowenbrock and watched as he brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth with relish. He seemed like a reasonable person. Perhaps he would understand. “Some people might have good reasons for keeping a secret.”
He frowned at her but said nothing.
She took another bite of her toast. It appeared she would get no indication from him as to whether it was safe to tell him about their first meeting. Perhaps after some time had passed, once he got to know her better, he wouldn’t think ill of her after learning the truth.
It was time to change the subject. “When did you want to start going over the accounts?”
The way he looked at her—as though she were his saving grace—had a strange effect on her. She would have been a fool not to notice how handsome this man was. It was the reason, after all, that she’d modeled the hero in her book after him. But her appreciation went far beyond the acknowledgment of his external appearance. She was drawn to him in a way that was far from wise.
“I’ll need to wash up first. I apologize for coming straight from the stables, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “Such is country life. You needn’t apologize to me. I have a few things I need to do before we meet.”
She ignored the way her stomach dipped at his smile of thanks and stood. He followed suit, and she couldn’t help but notice, again, just how tall he was.
She glanced down at his plate, which still contained a large quantity of food. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your breakfast. You can send a footman to let me know when you’re ready.”
He gave her a formal bow. She dipped into a curtsy and exited the room, letting out a large sigh when she reached the hallway.
She’d wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to apologize because he smelled wonderful. Yes, he did smell like horses, but the combination of his own scent and that of the outdoors left her feeling slightly light-headed.
No, it was best she keep that information to herself. She couldn’t guarantee that detail wouldn’t make its way into her book, however.
Chapter 12
John’s meeting with the estate stewardwas decidedly less enjoyable than the morning he’d spent with Miss Weston. Yes, he and Amelia had spent that time going over the same material in detail, but the company had been more agreeable to him.
Mr. Raymond Jeffers was a middle-aged man who droned on a little too long, sharing details about day-to-day matters that John wouldn’t be able to remember. And Jeffers spoke in a monotone that had the effect of lulling him into thoughts of going back to bed.
At least he could ask Amelia to go over the many subjects the steward seemed intent on covering in this one meeting.
John cut him off when he threatened to go into excessive detail about the crops. “You mentioned that repairs to some of the cottages are needed. Why haven’t they been completed yet?”
