Raven McAllan - The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M

‘They do says she’s got the Grange fine and dandy again,’ Ronald continued as the horses strained to crest the top of the hill and turn along the lane towards the castle. ‘Not that it was a ruin, but like most of us around here allus – always –’ he corrected himself with a bashful grin, ‘– said, it was waiting for something. Young Cissy dotes on her.’

‘Seemingly this Miss Mary was just that.’ Brody changed the direction of the curricle to head along the rutted and little used back drive that headed in the directions of the stables. ‘The person needed.’

After one particularly deep rut Brody swore. He made a note to see the head groundsman with regards to its upkeep. The dozen or so yards from the lane to the gates were almost unusable. ‘A veritable treasure.’ God he sounded crabby. Brody was about to say something – anything – to make amends when Ronald spoke.

‘She is that. My Su… well, I mean, Susan, says Miss Mary brought new life into the village what with helping out where needed but never doing more than expected like. Not like that Lady Potter who used to live over Calden way. Nose in the air, lady bountiful, she thought she was. It’s fair to say your ma gave her short shrift. Now your ma, a real lady she is, it shines through her.’ He jumped down from the curricle and began to push open the gates. It wasn’t an easy job; it was obvious this route was rarely used.

Brody nodded and decided now wasn’t the time to say his mother was plain Miss Pearson, the youngest daughter of a mere Honourable when she met his father. It wasn’t a love match, he knew that. His parents had generally gone their own ways, but he assumed they had liked and respected each other. Plus, as far as he knew, stayed faithful.

As far as he knew.

Would he be content with a marriage like that? Even though Brody was sceptical about love – he thought it a mere tidying up of words to make lust more acceptable – he thought not. He enjoyed variety, and although he stayed faithful to whoever he had an arrangement with, for the duration – however long that might be – he had never declared it to be forever.

Just as Brody thought he might need to go and help Ronald, the youth managed to push the gates ajar far enough for him to get the curricle through. ‘Leave them open, they look ready to fall apart. I’ll get someone to go and speak to the blacksmith later. Is it still Williams?’

Ronald ran back to join Brody. ‘His son. Old Mr Williams sits in the forge and directs things. Or complains things aren’t what they used to be.’

It sounded familiar. ‘Tis ever thus.’

He pondered that thought, along with the knotty problem of how to give his prick relief in a willing body and not by his own hands, as he thanked Ronald, gave into his entreaty to let him sort the horses and equipage out, and slowly made his way indoors.

It was several hours later before Brody was able to sit in his study and try to make sense of the various ledgers pertaining to the affairs of the estate. Some were straightforward, others less so. In the end he rang the bell for Boleyn.

When the man entered he waved to a seat facing the desk. ‘These ledgers.’

Boleyn blinked as he sat down, very primly on the edge of an upright chair. ‘Yes, My Lord?’

‘Who decided to set them out like this? In fact let’s go back to basics. Who decided what was important and what not?’

Boleyn hesitated. ‘Ah…’

‘Ah nothing, spit it out,’ Brody said as he curbed his impatience with difficulty. He wasn’t asking the man to explain the royal debt. Now that would be difficult, if not nigh on impossible. ‘As far as I can see everything that has been addressed has been done so properly and I can find no discrepancies. But, oh hell, not to put too fine a point on it, some areas have been ignored and others over addressed. And we’re not making as much profit as I expected. Who chose what direction to go in and why?’

Boleyn sat up straight. ‘My Lord – Your Grace, i… it’s not for me to say.’

‘Rubbish, if you don’t, who will?’ Brody leaned forward. ‘Boleyn, this matters to me. I might have been absent, that couldn’t be helped.’ Well some of it couldn’t, he wasn’t sure about the rest. ‘Now I’m back and contrary to popular idea, more than ready to be involved in my estates.’ He emphasised the word ‘my’ on purpose, to show he was in earnest.

‘The factors or estate managers, they’re scared the status quo will be upset and their lives turned upside down.’ Boleyn said. ‘It doesn’t make for a peaceful existence.’

‘Which,’ Brody said slowly, ‘I suppose in theory they could be because dammit, man, I am no longer an absentee landlord. Whatever the circumstances, and however they feel, they need to take heed of that and accept I want to know what’s going on. Both on my lands and how it affects those people who work for me and rely on me for their livelihoods. I’m not an ogre and no heads will roll.’ He paused and forced himself to calm down. ‘Well, not unless they deserve to. So for the love of god, tell me, who chose what to concentrate on?’

Boleyn sighed. ‘Once your papa could no longer concentrate, a lot of it fell to your mama, who of course took advice from each estate manager. Whom, I suppose, all had the areas they favoured. For instance, Graham up in Scotland concentrated on the grouse and Oliver in Leicestershire the coverts and the hunting.’

‘Hmm. And here?’

‘Here I endeavoured to drop hints to your mama so at least the crops were rotated and harvested, the animals well tended, and the castle and cottages kept in good condition. Henning, your factor here, was the one with the least room to manoeuvre.’

Brody began to wonder if the reiterations that all his estates were in proper order and well kept were wishful thinking on his mother’s part and fudging on his employees’. ‘I think you better tell me the all.’

Boleyn fidgeted. ‘I’m your majordomo, Your Grace, not the person who is au fait with the workings of the Dukedom.’

‘I’m not so sure about that; I think your role may just have changed. Now share what you do know with me.’ Brody sat back and played with his pen. ‘Consider yourself my right-hand man. We’ll sort out a proper title and remuneration later.’

Boleyn opened his eyes wide, and the pleasure in them was there for Brody to see. ‘Then, Your Grace, I’ll endeavour not to let you down.’ Boleyn sighed. ‘I think they are all earnest in their belief they do what’s right and needed, but sometimes things get missed or passed over because it’s not important to them, personally, or to your mother.’

Brody sat back in his chair. It was as he thought. ‘Like the back drive to the stables?’

Boleyn relaxed. ‘Exactly so.’

‘Then it looks like we have work on our hands. I’ll need to meet each manager in turn and then, I suspect, visit my estates and see first-hand what I deem important and they don’t. Consider yourself promoted to my secretary-cum-majordomo, how does that sound?’

Boleyn looked alarmed. ‘Thank you, it sounds more than I ever thought possible. I will endeavour not to let you down. Your visits would be perfect. They will put the fear of god into each and every manager, Your Grace. Your mama very much let them get on with things.’

Evidently.

‘I,’ Brody said implacably, ‘am not my mama.’

That thought was uppermost in Brody’s mind, as he dismissed Boleyn. He sat for a moment and then picked up the ledgers pertaining to the castle and its surrounding lands and walked to the door. As he reached it and put his hand on the latch, Brody paused and retraced his steps. For a moment he hesitated, deep in thought, and then took a bottle of brandy from the cabinet that held his supply of spirits. With it in one hand and the ledgers in the other, he made his way out of the house and across the courtyard to the estate offices. It was as good a time as any to start showing he was back and intending to take up the reins of responsibility.