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The following morning, at nine o’clock sharp, a footman showed Victor Steele into Owen’s study. The best way to fix things, Owen thought, was to go about it methodically, one at a time, starting with getting a firm grasp on his holdings. Victor Steele was a man of fifty, with thinning blond hair and a nose that ended in a tip that kept his spectacles from falling off. He was slightly overweight, with the buttons around his midsection pulling in protest against the strain. Like everyone else, the man cowered in his presence.
“Good morning, Lord Fernsby. It’s good to have you back.” The words were said automatically, without feeling.
Owen doubted the man was glad to see him home.
“Good morning, Mr. Steele. Thank you for coming.”
“I am at your disposal, sir.”
It seemed everyone was ready to jump at his every whim, earl or not.
I wonder what Selena is doing?
She had not come down for breakfast. The footman had told him Selena normally had breakfast in her chambers. The prerogative of a lady. Perhaps it was best to give her time, let her adjust to his being home.
“I brought the ledgers you asked for, sir.” Steele fumbled with a large satchel and withdrew two large accounting books.
“Right, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about the earldom and the landholdings.”
Steele settled his glasses on his nose before starting. “The entitled lands include the main estate of Whitfield, which is in Gloucester. There are three smaller estates, including Stonegate. All the estates produce various grains and livestock which are sold, besides rents from tenants.”
“How many acres total?”
“Total is close to two thousand acres, sir.”
“Any other investments?”
Steele paged through the ledger. “Your father had funds tied up in a shipping company which did business in both America and the Caribbean, but with the ongoing war in America, we have lost revenue.”
“Will the company be pulling out of trade with America?”
“I have not been in contact with our agent, Mr. Fisk, for several weeks, but I can find out.”
Owen nodded. While he had been in London, he had heard about the troubles in America, how the country was divided in half and had been at war for the last three years.
“What else?”
“There are your private investments. I do not know the full extent since you have an agent in London, Able Hamilton, who takes care of those.”
“Answer me this, if you can, Steele. Am I involved in any illegal activities that you know of?”
The manager stilled, his expression blank. “Not that I know of, sir.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
Owen stood and walked around the desk. Steele jumped from his seat, as if Owen was going to strike him. Instead, Owen leaned against the desk, his stance relaxed. He rested his hands behind him on the desk.
“Mr. Steele, I will tell you what I told my valet. I understand I was a different person before my injury, but he is not here. Going forward, I want to make amends for any past wrongs. But in order to do that, I need to know the truth. So, I ask you again: was I ever involved in any illegal practices?”
Steele relaxed when he saw Owen was not angry. “I have been running Stonegate for ten years, sir, and you have never, to my knowledge, done anything illegal. A little unethical, brutish even, but not illegal.”
“Did you know my father and brother?”
The question caught the manager off guard. He blinked and went to speak, then paused a moment. “Yes, sir, I had some dealings with both late earls.”
“What were they like?”
