Chapter 7
“Are all of these horses mine?” I asked with no little amazement. The stables were full to the brim, neighing and muffled hoofbeats intertwining in an equine symphony. While I was no great judge of prime horseflesh, I could appreciate a clean set of lines like any well-bred adult. I turned in a slow circle. The air held a sense of industry as stable workers moved this way and that, methodically working down the line of stalls with clear purpose. “And is it always this busy?”
Mr. Bryce chuckled, a dimple appearing on his cheek that struck me at once. Apprehension planted a small seed within me. It had been years since my heart had raced at a man’s smile, the disloyal organ.
I turned my head away, pretending to admire the dappled gray that was saddled for me. I ran my fingers through her white mane and looked in her dark eyes.
“There are a few horses the main house utilizes for work, but the majority are mine,” Mr. Bryce said as I stared at the coarse, straw-like hair on the horse’s neck. I bravely turned back to face him and he regarded me closely. “I did mention it when I first began here. I deduct boarding and all of their food from my pay.”
I tried to chuckle nonchalantly but it came out more like a trill. “I recall the conversation. I suppose I did not realize how many horses you brought with you when you came to run Corden Hall.”
“I only brought two horses originally. The rest have been acquired during my time here.”
“To what purpose?” I asked, stepping away from the horse as a stable hand placed the mounting block beside her.
He grinned, the sneaky dimple making an appearance once more. “I dabble in horse breeding, I suppose.”
“How does one dabble in such a thing?” I pulled myself up onto the steady horse and led her out of the stable, Mr. Bryce following on his own steed not far behind.
He reined in beside me. “That is my humble way of saying I am an aspiring horse breeder. I’ve had some victories, but many more failings. But, one way or another, I will find success in this endeavor.” He smiled modestly. “Eventually.”
“It is good to set a goal,” I agreed. “You should have something to work toward. If this is what you want to do with your life, then it is admirable. And by the looks of it, you’ve got your stock off to a great start.”
“Do you know much about horses?”
“Not even a little,” I said unrepentantly, eliciting a chuckle from my steward. “Now, where shall we begin?”
He straightened in the saddle, a businesslike demeanor settling onto his shoulders. “I thought we should ride around the perimeter so I can show you the extent of your lands. We’ll pass by each tenant farm. I can name them off to you now, but it may take some time before you remember everything.”
“So a basic overview?”
“Yes, precisely.”
Tucking an errant lock of hair behind my ear, I swept my arm before me. “Lead the way, sir.”
We spent the better part of an hour trotting through field after field. Mr. Bryce pointed out the different grains we grew and the men who were in charge of them. A few of the farmers regarded me warily as I smiled down at them from atop my horse.
“They aren’t the friendliest lot,” I said once we moved out of earshot.
Mr. Bryce opened his mouth, glanced at me, and closed it once more.
“What is it?” I asked.
He shrugged, pulling his horse away from the wheat field and toward a thick wooded area.
“Mr. Bryce, is there something you would like to say?”
“No, ma’am. I would not like to say anything at all.”
I rephrased. “Please?”
It had the desired effect. He pulled his horse to a stop, breathing out a longsuffering sigh. “You are going to force me to speak, aren’t you?”
“I cannot force you, sir.”
His raised eyebrow contradicted me. I recalled my role as his employer, a fact I had not considered until this moment.
Regretfully, I tilted my head. There was an easy camaraderie between us and I did not want my authority to place a wedge there. “Perhaps I should let it go.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, his eyes seeming to scrutinize me. “But I have the distinct feeling that you are not one to let things go easily.”
My cheeks flushed. Was I as red in the face as Alan, the footman, had been that morning? I tried not to think about that, for it only warmed my cheeks further. I trained my gaze on my mare’s stringy mane and nudged her forward. “I can when I wish to.”
“You may not see this in yourself, but the men are rather intimidated.”
I glanced at him. It was clear he was in earnest.
“It is the truth,” he continued. “Did you not notice Tomlinson?”
“The man with the brown cap?” I clarified. “He was very polite.”
“Precisely.”
“I do not understand you.”
He chuckled. “That man swears worse than a sailor. He reined in his tongue and showed a deference which shocked me. I am convinced the men don’t know what to do with a woman in charge. You had opinions.”
“His cottage roof.”
“Yes,” Mr. Bryce nodded. “His cottage roof.”
I felt my neck warm. I had commanded the man to repair his roof. With weather as changeable as ours, it was folly to leave a roof so badly patched. I was positive the interior of the cottage was lined with buckets and bowls to catch drips. Mr. Tomlinson had been agreeable about the changes. That could have been due to my insistence on paying for the repair. Though, I imagined Mr. Bryce would have made the same offer.
“It is not very often these men are told what to do by beautiful women of high rank. It is unsettling for them, but they will adjust in time.”
I turned away. He could not know I was illegitimate. I was no better than any of these men, only richer.
“It is about time we are heading back,” I said. “Let us return.”
Mr. Bryce turned his horse to keep pace with mine as we trotted along the perimeter of the woods. “That might be difficult.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, slowing my horse as he stalled his own. “We are going the wrong way.”
* * *
“You’ve a visitor, Mr. Bryce,” Harrison said the moment we walked through the front door.
“I’ll see him in the study.”
Harrison cleared his throat and Mr. Bryce turned accordingly, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. As the steward, Mr. Bryce was the highest-ranking paid member of the household. It did not appear as if Mr. Bryce had any trouble acting his rank.
Harrison said, “She is waiting in the drawing room with her maid.”
Mr. Bryce stilled. His throat worked and it felt as though he purposely kept his glance from hitting me as he nodded once distinctly and swept toward the drawing room.
I watched him go and tried not to care that he had not invited me to join him. While it was my home, he had been given free rein of it for a year. The habit to receive a caller in the drawing room must have been well ingrained. I tried not to feel disappointed. I would have liked to meet a member of the local society.
Unless this mystery visitor was not a member of local society.
I turned to Harrison. “Will you have Tilly sent up?”
I took the stairs with haste. If Tilly was able to help me change quickly enough then perhaps I could seat myself in a place to meet Mr. Bryce’s visitor on her way out. It was childish perhaps, but I merely wished to assuage my curiosity, nothing more.
Tilly had a gown prepared and helped me clear the riding dust as I changed from my habit. She brushed and repinned my hair in silence and I found myself brooding slightly, for no apparent reason.
What did it matter if Mr. Bryce chose to see another woman and not inform me of who she was? His quick departure indicated he had some clue as to who may have called, but it was none of my business. I had known Mr. Bryce for one day.
No, that was inaccurate. I had k
nown him for an entire year, but that did not mean he owed me anything beyond what I paid him for.
By the time I finished dressing, I had decided not to care. I took the stairs up to the next floor, purposely putting more distance between myself and the front door. The carpet that ran the length of the hallway was worn, nearly threadbare in parts. I followed it to the end of the hallway, exploring each bedchamber one at a time, with Coco on my heels. My grandparents had interesting taste in design, if they were to blame for the hideous colors and heavy furniture adorning each of the rooms. But some of the curtains had to be blamed on more distant relatives, for they were nearly falling apart. There was a chair in one bedchamber leaning upon three legs and a bed in another without any mattress.
There seemed to be bits and pieces of broken or faulty furniture or decor in each and every room, but I imagined it had not mattered much with the lack of inhabitants over the past two decades. It took a moment for me to understand what was missing from the hallway, but deeper concentration revealed the lack of portraits or framed landscapes one would usually find breaking up the space between doors.
Halfway down the hall, I froze in the doorway of the next chamber. It opened toward the top of the stairs and I felt vulnerable, for anyone could mount those stairs and find me idling in the doorway at any moment. My hand rested on the door handle and I recognized the need to close it right away but found myself pasted to the spot instead. ‘Twas the only room on this floor without a noticeable fault. The bed was neatly made and the surfaces free from clutter, the only exception being the writing desk. It was placed before the window and littered with papers. A few books stacked on the corner looked near to toppling over.
Coco let herself into the room and began sniffing near the wardrobe. I wanted to pull her out but could not bring myself to step further into the room.
“Coco,” I hissed. “Come, girl.” I could not whistle without alerting the household of my location.
A framed portrait on the table beside the bed caught my eye. It was turned away just enough that I could make out nothing more than the outline of a woman. I stepped forward to take a closer look when a voice from the hallway startled me.
“I have moved into the rooms above the stables, but have not yet gathered all of my things. I will remove my belongings by the end of the day.”
I spun to see Mr. Bryce, his green eyes lit with irritation. A smile touched his lips briefly but did not remain.
I stepped back, further into the room. No other course of action was available to me as the door was blocked by the man and his proximity was unsettling. “I apologize, Mr. Bryce. You may take your time in the endeavor. I am not in any hurry to see the room evacuated.”
“Are you not?”
Swallowing, I shook my head slowly. I was unused to the brisk manner in which he spoke. “I have only been exploring this part of the house. I did not consider that I would be intruding on your personal space.”
His expression showed subtle disbelief, but I stood firm. Was he angry because I was in his room, or was it something more? Mr. Bryce might be a gentleman fallen in station, but he was still an employee. I had every right to be in his room. Regardless of its accidental nature.
For all of my mighty thoughts, I was not eager to remain where I was. I whistled sharply and Coco ran to my feet. “If you would excuse me,” I said, stepping forward, hoping the action would push him from the doorway.
He was slow to respond, causing me to brush his shoulder on my way past. It left a burning sensation in my arm and I rubbed it to dissipate the feeling before I bent down to pick up my dog.
Mr. Bryce spoke, forcing me to halt just above the stairs. “May we postpone our meeting? I have some matters of business that cannot wait.”
My foot hovered over the step as my free hand gripped the railing. I looked over my shoulder. “Yes, tomorrow should be fine.” I turned and descended the stairs without another word, but the look Mr. Bryce had directed my way burned into my mind and refused to depart. Whether anger or frustration played a part, I didn’t know, but his restraint was evident. I could not quite name the expression, and that fact haunted me more than anything else.
I met Harrison on the main level and asked, “How far away is Linshire?”
“A fifteen-minute ride by carriage.”
“And the closest estate?”
Harrison rocked back on his heels, looking to the ceiling for the answer. “That would depend on which way you traveled. The Gromley farm is northward, and south runs you to Fairlinn Court.”
I searched my brain for the name Gromley, but came up short. I had not met any Gromleys on my tour that morning. “The Gromley farm is not one of ours, correct?”
He nodded. “Correct. Mr. Gromley is a gentleman farmer but deals mostly in sheep.”
“Thank you, Harrison.” I dismissed the butler and headed toward my chamber. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the large house and how little I knew about the area. I was ready to spend the remainder of the day with a good book, Coco, and my cats.
Chapter 8
I was unprepared at dinner to face the jovial Mr. Bryce, as he had bordered on surly during our encounter earlier in the day. He helped me to the head of the table, taking the chair just to my right. An amiable smile sat on his lips.
“Did you have a productive day?” I inquired just as he lifted a soup spoon to his lips.
He nodded, wiping his mouth. “I took the liberty of preparing a few charts to show you the changes we’ve made at Corden Hall since my arrival. If you have the time tomorrow, I would love to go over it with you.”
“I’ve nothing else to do.”
He looked at me sharply as though he knew something I did not. It was not the first time I had felt that Mr. Bryce was afraid to voice his opinion. It was rather trying, to be honest. “Can we not speak plainly with one another?” I begged. “We’ve been doing just that in our correspondence, and I feel it would be significantly simpler if I was not trying to constantly guess what you are thinking.”
He replied softly, “I understand the frustration.”
My eyebrow lifted of its own accord. I did nothing to bring it back down.
“Very well,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I only wonder if you might be busy tomorrow with calls.”
“What calls? I know no one in Linshire.”
“Correct. But word has spread around Linshire that the owner of Corden Hall—a single woman, even—is in residence. If I know Linshire, then they will be sending around the welcoming committee quickly.”
I could not tell if I felt more irritation or anxiety at the prospect of a welcoming committee.
“You do not seem pleased,” Mr. Bryce said, setting down his spoon.
“I am not fond of strangers. Or unannounced visits.”
He peered at me thoughtfully. “I had planned to go into Stoneford in the afternoon on business, but I could postpone another day.”
What was he suggesting? I did not need anyone to hold my hand. I had been independent for the better part of four years and I was not about to shrink with fear. “I shall be fine. What is the nature of your business?”
That did not seem to be the question he expected. “There is a man in Stoneford selling a mare I’ve had my eye on. I need to negotiate a fair price.”
“Then you must go.”
He studied me and I found myself squirming in my chair. I cleared my throat. “And this mare is important to your work?”
“She could be,” he said. “I believe with her blood I can produce top rate foals.”
“As opposed to the other mares you have in the stables?”
He smiled. “It would be difficult to explain. But yes, she is superior.”
I shook my head. “I know so little about business.”
“And I” —he grinned— “cannot discuss it further. I believe you remember my rule.”
I sipped a spoonful of soup. “Yes, I remember. No discussing business over food.”
One concise nod and Mr. Bryce delved into his meal once more. I could not blame the man. His life revolved around running my estate and surrounding land, not to mention his free time taken up with horse breeding. It was fair that he expected one time of day where he could just be.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me about your family. Your mother resides in Yorkshire, you said?”
I froze. I had mentioned her in a letter many months back. Could Mr. Bryce know of the scandal with my father? He was a gentleman, and would therefore have relationships and connections within Society.
I ventured forth cautiously. “She lives with her sister, yes.”
“And are you able to see her often?”
“I’ve seen her twice in the last four years. It is more, I gather, than many are able to accomplish, so I take my holiday visits with satisfaction.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is a positive attitude to affect.”
“She was not interested in coming to Corden Hall when I inquired last, but I have dispatched another letter renewing the invitation.” I tried to turn the conversation. “Do you have family nearby?”
“No.”
“So you understand. Are you able to get away and visit them?”
Mr. Bryce turned away, a tight smile on his lips. “There is no one to visit, so I need not concern myself with family.”
That was a bleak perspective. Or one hardened through time alone. Pity snaked into my thoughts before I shoved it out again. I despised when others pitied me. I guessed Mr. Bryce and I had a connection, in that sense.
“On my exploration earlier, I did discover something of interest.”
He turned interested eyes on me and a smile revealed his dimple. I trained my blushing face toward my plate. It was not my finest moment to be caught snooping in his bedchamber, but it could not be undone. No use pretending it hadn’t happened.
“What is it you found?”
“Quite a lot of disarray,” I said.
“I cannot speak for the man who held this position before me, but I did not see the need to spend money replacing carpets and furniture when there was no family in residence and none expected for the foreseeable future. But, to be quite honest, I have not felt comfortable leaving such a lovely home in this condition any longer.” He caught and held my gaze. “It was one of the reasons I recommended your visit, if you recall.”
Love For The Spinster (Women 0f Worth Book 2) Page 6