Page 5 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
This room was the one Marina was most excited to see. The dining room contained an oak minstrels gallery and entrance screen over two doorways, again one entrance was for the family, the other for servants.
Their party made a leisurely tour of the room. Although the woodwork looked to be in good condition, Marina pointed out several loose pieces of paneling to her father.
They exited the dining room back into the square entrance hall, an enormous room.
“The first floor contains guest bedrooms, my bedchamber and drawing room, and a school room. You are free to explore those rooms on your own. His Grace’s rooms are on the second floor, where the majority of work is to be done. He asks that you leave that floor until he can accompany you tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” her father replied.
“When you’ve completed your inspection, return to the entrance hall, and a footman will show you to the dower house. May I be of any further assistance?”
Her father shook his head. “No, thank you.”
Once they were alone, Marina grinned at her father. “Let’s explore!”
Chapter Three
Preston recalled Sir Joseph had written about a secretary but never named his assistant.
Although the young woman wore glasses, they didn’t conceal her attractiveness. Her skin was luminous, her hair dark and glossy. She’d shown little interest in him, which stung after the furor his presence had caused in London. Although seated, the shapeliness of her upper body had drawn his attention.
He shook himself. The young woman was probably another example of a managing female. He’d had enough of those for a lifetime. Her father came highly recommended and, more importantly, had been available to oversee the restoration work.
“The laborers being local should help allay expenses for the renovations, Your Grace,” his new steward, Mr. Bailey, said from his seat behind the desk in his office. “The men will be able to return home of an evening instead of being put up at an inn.”
Preston met with his steward in the long two-storied building that contained the steward’s office, estate laundry, and servant’s quarters. With the arrival of the architect and laborers, he worried he’d feel like an interloper in his own home. He groaned inwardly. The repairs to the hall could take up to four months.
When he’d returned from London, it was to find not only the grounds but the hall neglected. Goodness knows the housekeeper and butler had done their best. Recently, Mr. Sparks failed to pay the staff in a timely manner, and several employees had left Barton Hall.
As the steward disappeared from the estate without a by your leave, there would be no retirement in a cozy cottage on the grounds. From what he could surmise from studying the household accounts, Mr. Sparks had only started skimming funds in the last six months. Preston might never find out why a trusted employee of twenty years had begun stealing from his employer.
His butler Winston was familiar with an under steward at a neighboring estate who was dissatisfied with his position. After a brief meeting, Preston hired Mr. Bailey on the spot. The man had been an asset from day one.
Returning his thoughts to the present, he asked the steward, “The repairs on the farm laborers’ cottages are complete?”
“Yes, Your Grace. The roofs have been repaired. The men living in the cottages are most appreciative of the work that was done.”
He merely nodded in response, knowing the repairs were long overdue. Preston had been caught up with his own troubles when he should have been tending to his responsibilities. His travels had shown him that no matter where he was in the world, everyone had problems. He’d decided to no longer run from his.
Preston couldn’t regret his travels out of hand; the chance to visit Athens, Rome, and Paris. He enjoyed learning about other cultures and architecture and returned home with a greater appreciation of history, especially the history of his family and Barton Hall.
“There is one more thing I need to bring to your attention, Your Grace.”
“Yes?” he raised a brow.
“According to Cook, the fruit she leaves out in the servant’s dining room between meals has been disappearing as soon as she puts it out, and the servants swear they’re not eating any of it. The kitchen maids now take turns watching over the food.”
“The workmen aren’t here yet and we’ve had little change in staffing after Mrs. Barnes hired the staff for the dower house last month,” he observed.
“Cook also mentioned that foodstuffs have recently gone missing from the larder. She has taken to locking the room at night.”
“Let me know if there are any further problems with food going missing. I’d prefer not to have to address the servants just yet.” With a glance at his pocket watch, he stood up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bailey. I have an appointment with my solicitor.”
The architect and his daughter should be well clear of the library by now. He should have known beforehand that the secretary was a female, and he’d felt disconcerted by her loveliness.
Preston exited the building and strode across the gravel courtyard. The weather was fine, the sky clear and blue. Hopefully, there would be no further reports of missing food. Right now, his main concern was the preservation of the hall and the estate for future generations.
Before her death, his mother had pressured him to find a bride. He was the only direct heir to the dukedom. Although he had no desire to wed, did he want his title and estate going to some far-off cousin?
