Page 36 of Impossible
“Have I never said good morning to you?”
“Not in a long while.” Og grunted. “I hope that chit isn’t charming you.”
“She’s doing her damnedest.” Max nearly smiled, and that would certainly set Og off. “I came to talk to you about hiring grooms.”
“Bah, I don’t need anyone. Don’t bother.”
“We can’t keep relying on Archie. His mother needs him at her farm.”
Og frowned, then spat into the corner of the stall. “He’s a good helper.”
“I’m going to hire at least one groom. You aren’t as spry as you once were, Og. You ought to take things easier.”
“Don’t you put me out to pasture yet,” Og said grumpily.
“I will never do that.” Max felt a particular kinship to this man and to Mrs. Debley. They’d known him his entire life. He thought about Miss Treadway and how she had no one like that. At least, it seemed she didn’t if her family had pushed her out, and she now lived so far from where she’d been born and raised.
“What’s prompted this?” Og asked. “Is it the chit?”
“She has—correctly—pointed out that several people on the estate are overworked.”
“I’m not.” He sounded offended at the insinuation.
“Perhaps, but as I said, you can’t keep using Archie, so we will hire someone.” Max noted the usually tense set of Og’s jaw and the general air of irritation he carried. Was that how Max looked? “Do you ever tire of being angry and gruff all the time?” he asked somewhat quietly, his attention moving to Topaz.
Og grunted again. “I don’t think of myself that way. I don’t think the animals would say I’m grumpy, would you, girl?” He stroked Topaz’s neck, and his expression actually softened.
Perhaps animals would help Max. For the first time in ages, he thought of his beloved horse, Arrow, whom he’d sold upon returning from Spain. He wouldn’t even have brought him back to England, but Max had been in no condition to manage anything, and someone had seen fit to return Arrow along with him.
Max felt a pang of remorse over the loss of his horse. Poor Arrow. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d been a noble and tireless friend and partner. Without him, Max would not have found vengeance.
And that was why he’d had to let him go. Just the thought of riding a horse, let alone Arrow, took Max back to that day and night. Could he really never ride a horse again? He realized in that moment that he was afraid to try.
Pivoting slightly, Max tentatively touched Topaz’s forelock. “You are a good girl, aren’t you?” She nudged his hand, and he stroked her in earnest. Something within him relaxed. Perhaps Og had found a secret with caring for the animals.
“You thinking of riding?” Og asked, as if he’d been privy to Max’s thoughts.
“Perhaps.” But not yet. Maybe never. But hewasthinking about it, and that was a change.
He seemed to be taking small steps forward. He just prayed he didn’t fall.
Ada’s hand moved quickly across the parchment as she recorded notes from her day. She’d spent the morning touring the estate with Archie, and the afternoon reviewing very old estate ledgers to see how it was run more than fifty years ago. Some things were different, and yet much was the same. Warfield’s grandfather had been very involved in the management.
In fact, one of the tenants she’d met that day had gone on and on about how wonderful the man had been. That was what had prompted Ada to dig up these ledgers. That particular tenant, Mr. Hardy, was in his sixties, and he was not happy with the current state of things. He needed new equipment, his cottage was in desperate need of repair, and his requests for assistance had gone unanswered. His lease would be up next year, but at his age, he didn’t want to leave. Ada had reassured him that she would ensure his needs were met—and not at some indeterminate time in the future. She’d address them posthaste.
Mr. Hardy had also been informative about a number of things. Shockingly, he’d shared that Warfield had been a rake. Mr. Hardy had indicated that nearly every woman on the estate had swooned over him and his older brother when they’d ridden about as young men. It was “bloody aggravating” because they were distracting.
Ada had stifled a laugh. She tried to imagine a handsome, grinning Warfield galloping across the estate with his probably equally handsome brother while every woman fell madly in love with them. She could see it quite easily. He’d already somehow wiggled his way into her sentiments—she cared about him more than she ever expected to. But it was more than that. She was drawn to him like a bee to honey. She wanted to know everything about him. And she wanted to touch him. Everywhere.
Work, Ada!
She could hear Prudence now, telling her she was far too romantic for her own good. It was true. Ada often wondered if the circumstances of her split from her family had driven her to constantly crave connection and love.
She shook her head.Never mind that now.
Her thoughts went back to Mr. Hardy. He’d told Ada that Max’s horse—he was called Arrow—had been sold in London at Tattersall’s. As soon as she finished these notes, she planned to pen a letter to Lucien asking if he could possibly find the animal.
She was so involved in her task and in thinking that she didn’t hear the viscount until he cleared his throat. Pausing her pen, she looked up to see him standing not far from her table. He was dressed as usual in his outdated coat and waistcoat and his simply knotted cravat. If she hadn’t known he didn’t have a valet, she might have guessed it. Perhaps she could persuade him to at least buy new garments. There had to be a tailor in the village. She should have asked when she’d gone to hire Teresa to help Mrs. Kempton. Ah well, she’d be making another visit the following day to hopefully hire maids and grooms. Mrs. Bundle was ecstatic at the prospect of having help, even if she didn’t quite believe it. She’d also advised Ada not to say anything to Mrs. Debley until she had a kitchen maid already employed. Then the cook couldn’t refuse. Or so Mrs. Bundle thought.
