Page 10 of Masquerading with the Duke
‘Please do.’
Braithwaite walked into the library and gave the room an appreciative look. ‘A great improvement already, sir,’ he said, shaking Jared’s outstretched hand. Thor looked up, flapped his tail when he sensed no threat to Jared’s security, and returned to his slumbers. ‘I feel a great sense of belonging in this room, being a bibliophile myself, you understand.’
Jared assured him that he did and invited him to take a chair. He had been impressed by the man’s efficiency in brokering the sale of the estate and considered him to be a useful contact in the area.
‘I have the need for the services of a local solicitor,’ he told Braithwaite. ‘Can you recommend someone reliable?’
‘Mr Max Sheridan,’ Braithwaite replied without hesitation. ‘He is the Duke of Winchester’s cousin and has premises in Shawford. His reputation for discretion is beyond question. Would you like me to fix an appointment for you?’
‘No need, thanks. I intend to explore the village myself later today. I’ll call in and arrange to see the gentleman,’ Jared said, thinking it would be a good way to make initial contact with the duke’s family.
Jared discussed his other requirements with Braithwaite, asking him to liaise with Ramsay so that the situation with the gardens could be speedily rectified. He also asked for recommendations for stewards.
‘I have already received enquiries from potential candidates,’ Braithwaite told him. ‘As soon as news that the estate had been sold became public, several had the foresight to come to me, extolling their own virtues. Would you like me to arrange for the more suitable ones to be interviewed?’
‘Whittle them down to the two or three best qualified and then I will see them myself.’ Jared stood to indicate that the interview was at an end. ‘Thank you for your help, Braithwaite. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.’
‘Welcome to the district, sir. I hope you will enjoy the tranquillity of country life.’
‘I am sure I shall.’ He rang the bell twice, summoning Ramsay, and the two men took themselves off to the estate office to discuss the employment of gardeners.
‘Right, Thor,’ he said a while later. ‘Let’s stretch our legs.’
Still in shirtsleeves and hatless—it was too hot for formality—Jared and Thor made their way to the stables, where Jared introduced himself to the one groom who had thus far been employed.
My name is John, sir,’ the groom said, doffing his cap. ‘Mighty fine team you have here,’ he said, glancing at the four greys who had conveyed Jared’s travelling chaise on the final leg of its journey. Taking care of them would keep one man fully occupied, but John had their coats gleaming and all four horses were contentedly munching at hay.
‘I shall employ some help for you, John,’ Jared told him. ‘I intend to buy a decent saddle horse and another conveyance. But in the meantime, let’s saddle up one of these fellows. I have a yen to explore the village.’
‘Right you are, sir. And if it’s a decent horse you’ve a hankering for, you could do worse than enquire at his grace’s stud. They used to produce just Noniuses but they’ve diversified and they’re bound to have something that would match your requirements.’
‘Thank you. I shall enquire. A Nonius might suit me as well as anything. I’ve heard good things about them.’
‘Aye, they’re strong, they have great endurance and a good turn of speed,’ John said as he slipped a saddle onto the back of the grey that Jared favoured and tightened the girth.
‘You sound knowledgeable, John. Where did you work before taking up this position?’
‘In a livery yard the other side of Winchester. The owner sold up and my services were no longer required.’ Jared suppressed a frown, his suspicions aroused by a voice that was a little too educated for that of a mere groom. ‘Happens. Was glad when this opportunity came up. Lived in this area all my life. Didn’t want to move further afield.’
Jared nodded, thinking he had been too long in the diplomatic game, seeing shadows where none existed, doubting everything he was told, never taking anything at face value. John seemed highly experienced and proficient at his work, as evidenced by the ease with which he’d coped single-handedly with Jared’s team of four. He was surprised that anyone would dispense with his services voluntarily. Could he had been put forward for this position by the foreign office to keep an eye on him? Or had the real traitor—a local man with enough sway to make it happen—arranged for John to apply for the vacancy?
‘Glad to have you here, John,’ Jared said, his tone giving none of his suspicions away.
Experienced grooms not afraid of hard work were few and far between so Jared decided to make the most of his services and worry about potential ulterior motives if his nebulous suspicions were confirmed.
A short time later Jared was astride the grey and turned the lively gelding in the direction of Shawford, with Thor trotting alongside. He drew less attention than he had on the previous day when he’d bowled through the village in his smart equipage. He found the local tavern, the Crown and Anchor, and left the grey in the care of the ostlers, who were happy to give him directions to Max Sheridan’s offices.
Intending just to make an appointment, he was asked to wait a moment when he gave his name and informed the clerk that he was the new owner of Musgrove Manor. The clerk disappeared into a back room and a tall, distinguished man with a sweep of dark hair emerged from it, his hand outstretched.
‘Mr Braden. Max Sheridan.’ The two men shook as they sized one another up. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We will be more comfortable if we talk in here.’ He indicated the office from which he had just emerged and Jared preceded him into it with Thor sticking close to his heels.
‘I don’t want to intrude if you are occupied. My business can wait.’
‘Not a bit of it. It’s hard to concentrate in this heat,’ Sheridan said, indicating the open window behind him, through which not a breath of fresh air could be felt. ‘An unusual hound,’ he added, ruffling Thor’s ears when he pushed his head beneath his hand.
‘He’s French, but don’t hold it against him. We’re all supposed to be friends now.’
Sheridan laughed. ‘How are you finding Musgrove Manor? I was glad to hear that it had sold. It could be a useful working estate and there are plenty of locals who will appreciate the employment.’
