Page 106 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“Now?” he asked, gazing at the scone in her hand as if it was a personal failing.

And with that, Cecelia realized he’d set up another contest, this one between the two of them. That explained his pushing forward with Mr. Nordling. As always, James was intent on winning, and he couldn’t evade the house visits because that would be some twisted sort of defeat. So very typical. What she didn’t understand was why James saw it so. He’d bargained for someone—a wife—to take on his work. He’d even admitted that she was more skilled at it. Hadn’t he? Surely she hadn’t imagined that?

In any case, she was playing her part. It was quite unfair of him to be contentious when she was trying to do as he’d asked. Also irritated now, Cecelia put aside her scone and rose. “We will need a hack.”

James hailed one not far from Tereford House, and they rode in silence to the first address Cecelia had been given. It was a compact wooden edifice that looked newly painted.

“Not a fashionable neighborhood,” James commented as they stepped down from the cab.

“It is quite temporary,” replied Cecelia.

“But so out of the way.”

“The season is nearly over.”

“Indeed. So why stay in London?”

“Where do you propose to go?” Cecelia asked. If he wanted to be snappish, she could match him.

He had no answer. She knew he’d often visited his bachelor friends in the summer months. Before he could suggest Brighton, she added, “And what about your daily visits to Tereford House? At six sharp.”

He frowned. “It is some distance away.”

“You can get a horse.”

“I have a horse, Cecelia. You’ve seen me riding in the park.”

“Oh yes. So that’s settled then.” She went to knock on the door.

Mr. Dalton was inside, having procured the keys from the owner. Being an extremely efficient man of business, he’d also acquired details about the property, which he reviewed as they walked through. “Only one sizable reception room,” he said. “The furnishing are new, however, and the kitchen has been brought up to date with a closed stove.”

She would have to find a cook to make use of it, Cecelia thought as they walked up the stairs. As well as other staff.

“Two decent bedrooms,” continued Mr. Dalton. “And two that are…”

“Small and shabby,” said James, having barely glanced into them.

Mr. Dalton bowed his head in acknowledgment. He was familiar with James’s dilatory manner from years of assisting with the trust. Still, Cecelia felt that James wasn’t giving him enough credit. Mr. Dalton had gone to some effort to find possibilities for them. “It is very clean,” she said.

James shot her a sardonic look. “There is another, I believe? Cecelia said two houses?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Let us go on to that then.” James turned to the stairs.

The second candidate was a short walk away, further from the hub of fashionable London. It was larger, however, built of red brick with ornate stone lintels.

“Some merchant had aspirations,” James commented.

Mr. Dalton had these keys as well, and they entered to look over two spacious parlors at the front of the house, a dining room and smaller one at the back. “There is a garden,” Mr. Dalton pointed out.

Cecelia examined it through a window. The plantings were nothing special, but it was a pleasant walled space.

“Kitchen below, quite tolerable,” Mr. Dalton continued. “There are four good bedchambers here and servants quarters on the third floor.”

They went up to survey all of these. “I think this would do,” said Cecelia as they returned to the entry.

“The furnishings are dowdy,” James replied.

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