of the duke’s heir.”
“I suppose I should write to those gentlemen myself.” Colin brushed at some accumulated dust on the pile of ledgers. “They will need to know about Mr. Morehouse’s desertion.”
“Indeed. I believe they are expecting to hear from you.”
“Perhaps I should wait until I can give a full accounting of myself before I bother them with this matter,” Colin said quickly.
“You must do as you think best, Mr. Ford. From what I have observed of your character so far, you are a gentleman and will thus behave appropriately.”
Colin picked up a handful of scattered papers and studied them. “Mr. Morehouse was supposed to be a gentleman.”
“But you are the son of an earl .”
“The fifth son.” Colin’s shoulders slumped. “Trust me, it means nothing but that I am obliged to make my own way in the world with no money and no prospects.”
“Be that as it may, I am sure you will come about. There is no need to bother Her Grace about this matter. She has enough to deal with—being widowed at such a young age.” Mrs. Pemberley gave him an imperious nod worthy of the queen and sailed out, her black skirt billowing behind her.
Colin sank into the chair and surveyed the mess.
He was still staring at it when there was another tap on the door.
“Mr. Ford? Mrs. Pemberley said you would appreciate some help with the— Oh, my word, what happened?”
Colin shot to his feet. “Miss Leyton?”
He thought that was her name. She was one of the indistinguishable gaggle of female hangers-on that inevitably collected at a titled nobleman’s estate when they had nowhere else to go. Not that he didn’t pity anyone in such straits. He knew all about being a gentleman who had no inheritance and had to sing for his own supper.
She came farther into the room, her drab muslin dress stirring up the dust. She wore no jewelry, and her mouse-brown hair was braided tightly to her head. He thought her to be about his own age, but that was about all he knew of her. She’d always seemed pleasant enough when he’d encountered her at the dinner table. The duchess had always treated him as a valued member of the family rather than a servant.
“Good morning, Miss Leyton.” Colin bowed. “I believe Mr. Morehouse has left me in something of a pickle.”
“Indeed. I can’t say I ever liked him.”
“Neither did I,” Colin confessed.
She shot him a quick glance. “The maids told me about your efforts to be informed and his determination to keep all the secrets to himself. Perhaps you were lucky to be kept in ignorance after all.”
“I’m not sure about that. He has left a letter of resignation, which I assume means I am now in charge of this disaster.”
“Then where do you wish me to start?”
Colin frowned. “I do not expect you to do such menial work, Miss Leyton. Surely a maid can be spared?”
Her smile wavered. “I have nothing else to do but sew endless seams, run errands for my relatives, and read verses from the Bible to Great-Aunt Maude. I’m also quite tired of staring out of the window and worrying about my future. Doing something useful would be a pleasure.”
Colin studied her resolute expression. He knew exactly how it felt to need a purpose in life. His father had always considered him useless, as did most of society where the heir got everything and the other sons were seen as lazy drones doomed to be kicked out of the hive when they were no longer necessary. “Then be my guest. Perhaps you could start by putting the bookshelves to rights?”
She nodded and walked past him to the book-lined wall. “I wonder why Mr. Morehouse left the place in such a state? It’s almost as if he were searching for something.”
“Probably looking for money or items he could steal and pawn.” Colin bent to pick up a handful of scattered pages and placed them on the desk. “One has to suspect that his bookkeeping will be as irregular as his departure.”
“Agreed.” She stacked
“I suppose I should write to those gentlemen myself.” Colin brushed at some accumulated dust on the pile of ledgers. “They will need to know about Mr. Morehouse’s desertion.”
“Indeed. I believe they are expecting to hear from you.”
“Perhaps I should wait until I can give a full accounting of myself before I bother them with this matter,” Colin said quickly.
“You must do as you think best, Mr. Ford. From what I have observed of your character so far, you are a gentleman and will thus behave appropriately.”
Colin picked up a handful of scattered papers and studied them. “Mr. Morehouse was supposed to be a gentleman.”
“But you are the son of an earl .”
“The fifth son.” Colin’s shoulders slumped. “Trust me, it means nothing but that I am obliged to make my own way in the world with no money and no prospects.”
“Be that as it may, I am sure you will come about. There is no need to bother Her Grace about this matter. She has enough to deal with—being widowed at such a young age.” Mrs. Pemberley gave him an imperious nod worthy of the queen and sailed out, her black skirt billowing behind her.
Colin sank into the chair and surveyed the mess.
He was still staring at it when there was another tap on the door.
“Mr. Ford? Mrs. Pemberley said you would appreciate some help with the— Oh, my word, what happened?”
Colin shot to his feet. “Miss Leyton?”
He thought that was her name. She was one of the indistinguishable gaggle of female hangers-on that inevitably collected at a titled nobleman’s estate when they had nowhere else to go. Not that he didn’t pity anyone in such straits. He knew all about being a gentleman who had no inheritance and had to sing for his own supper.
She came farther into the room, her drab muslin dress stirring up the dust. She wore no jewelry, and her mouse-brown hair was braided tightly to her head. He thought her to be about his own age, but that was about all he knew of her. She’d always seemed pleasant enough when he’d encountered her at the dinner table. The duchess had always treated him as a valued member of the family rather than a servant.
“Good morning, Miss Leyton.” Colin bowed. “I believe Mr. Morehouse has left me in something of a pickle.”
“Indeed. I can’t say I ever liked him.”
“Neither did I,” Colin confessed.
She shot him a quick glance. “The maids told me about your efforts to be informed and his determination to keep all the secrets to himself. Perhaps you were lucky to be kept in ignorance after all.”
“I’m not sure about that. He has left a letter of resignation, which I assume means I am now in charge of this disaster.”
“Then where do you wish me to start?”
Colin frowned. “I do not expect you to do such menial work, Miss Leyton. Surely a maid can be spared?”
Her smile wavered. “I have nothing else to do but sew endless seams, run errands for my relatives, and read verses from the Bible to Great-Aunt Maude. I’m also quite tired of staring out of the window and worrying about my future. Doing something useful would be a pleasure.”
Colin studied her resolute expression. He knew exactly how it felt to need a purpose in life. His father had always considered him useless, as did most of society where the heir got everything and the other sons were seen as lazy drones doomed to be kicked out of the hive when they were no longer necessary. “Then be my guest. Perhaps you could start by putting the bookshelves to rights?”
She nodded and walked past him to the book-lined wall. “I wonder why Mr. Morehouse left the place in such a state? It’s almost as if he were searching for something.”
“Probably looking for money or items he could steal and pawn.” Colin bent to pick up a handful of scattered pages and placed them on the desk. “One has to suspect that his bookkeeping will be as irregular as his departure.”
“Agreed.” She stacked
Similar Books
