“Do you like him, Chalmers?”
“Not for me to say, Your Grace.”
“I command you to say.”
Her graying brows winged up high and she pressed her lips together.
More gently, he tried, “You’re a discerning woman.” She was so clever, he had half a mind to ask her to have a look at the estate ledgers herself. But he didn’t want the staff alarmed if it was something as simple as an accounting error. “I trust your judgment, so may I have it?”
“He’s a bit odd. Went away rather a lot. Disappeared for weeks at a time.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Can’t rightly say. We all wondered why he was allotted so many holidays or whether he was off on business for your father. I do recall mention of property the duke thought to purchase. There was talk of who among the staff might go to the new house.”
“New house?” Rhys gestured around the spacious study. “Edgecombe has twenty-three bedrooms, three drawing rooms, and the largest ballroom in the county. Why would my father need another house?”
“The seaside. There were whispers that he wished to buy a house for holidays. Mr. Radley did make several trips to the seaside and spoke of the temperate weather.”
“Do you trust him?” He expected her to hedge about answering again, to demure and say it wasn’t her place to cast such a judgment. Instead, she held his gaze a long silent moment.
“Now that you ask, Your Grace, I do have my suspicions about the steward.”
Rhys fumbled a stone but caught it before it fell. Leaning toward his housekeeper, he whispered eagerly, “Tell me more.”
Nothing made sense.
The previous day, Bella had organized her book into three distinct parts and today the words seemed to run together on the page. Sorting and arranging, which usually gave her such pleasure, only stoked the irritation that had been stewing since opening her eyes.
She could blame fatigue or the distraction of having strangers in her home, but mostly she blamed Rhys for bursting back into her life uninvited.
How dare he disturb all the poise and contentment she’d been working toward for years? And without even a bit of warning. Even now, hours after they’d parted, she felt like a kaleidoscope being twisted, its pieces tumbling one over the other.
Five years should have been sufficient. More than long enough to put her foolishness aside. Seeing him again shouldn’t have disturbed her peace of mind one iota. She’d fought for that peace, practiced it day after day until it was a habit every bit as firmly ingrained as her desire to speak to him every day had once been.
She’d pushed thoughts of him aside so often that she told herself she’d forgotten how he looked and sounded and smelled, his unique spice and leather scent.
But it wasn’t true.
She remembered him completely, but memory was nothing to seeing the man in flesh and blood. Rhys had always exuded a vibrant energy she could feel from across a crowded room, but last night the billiard room had been empty. His nearness had surrounded her like a soothing warmth she hadn’t known she needed. Somehow, unfairly, time had lent him more appeal. Even as disheveled and exhausted as he’d looked, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Especially when he smiled. That lip-tilted smirk of his was perhaps what she’d missed most of all.
For so long she’d told herself what she felt for him was childish nonsense. The infatuation of a girl with no real sense of what love or romance meant. She’d vowed to be unfeeling if they ever crossed paths again.
Forgiveness, yes. She could offer him that, but nothing more.
Last night, he’d expressed regret and she’d accepted his apology. That should have ended all that remained unresolved between them.
So why did nothing feel resolved?
One thing she knew with unwavering certainty: she couldn’t help him, despite how much the impulse gnawed at her. The girl who gave in to every whim and fancy was gone. New Bella had plans and they were set as firmly as the stones in the rough-hewn wall separating Yardley land from the Claremont acreage.
Setting her manuscript aside, she stood and put on her jacket then glanced at the mirror and decided the simple knot she’d pulled her hair into would have to do. Breakfast was long over and at this hour guests would be assembled outdoors for croquet.
Outside, Bella found the late summer sun shining on a freshly manicured lawn of vibrant green. Her mother and Louisa were consulting with servants about tables that had been moved out onto the veranda. The gentlemen seemed engrossed in the middle of a game.
Bella was pleased to note that Teasdale was not among their number. She’d hoped embarrassment and shame at their behavior would drive him and Mr. Nix to depart early.
Unfortunately, the wealthy mill owner remained and, as usual, he was talking. He and the other gentlemen stood with their backs to her, unaware of her approach.
“Some would call a woman ruined for Miss Prescott’s behavior last evening.” Nix’s voice had a whiny pitch to it, and Bella bit her tongue to stop from revealing his behavior the previous evening. What would the others think of him for plotting to wager for her like a filly at Tattersall’s?
In truth, Bella was thrilled by his disdain. Let him judge her a hoyden for speaking to an old friend. She looked at the situation strategically. With Nix and Teasdale out of consideration, she only had to contend with playing polite debutante to two gentlemen. Hammersley, who was far too old, and Lord Wentworth, who was far too quiet.
“I must agree,” Hammersley said as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Claremont is hardly proper company for Miss Prescott. Or any decent young woman. Alone in a room together for God knows how long. The man’s the worst sort of scoundrel.”
“She’s clever,” Wentworth added quietly. “Miss Prescott cannot be unaware of his reputation.”
“I begin to doubt her sense of propriety.” Hammersley positioned his mallet near the blue-ringed croquet ball and lined up his aim. “No man wants a wife without a whit of good sense. Never mind how pretty she may be.”
Bella went to the rack and selected the yellow-ringed mallet.
The taciturn Lord Wentworth spoke while Hammersley took his shot. “The lady is known for her cold demeanor. I don’t imagine Claremont got very far.”
“He didn’t,” Bella said brightly, and watched each man jolt in shock and consternation. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Miss Prescott.” Wentworth nodded solemnly. He did seem to have the least to be embarrassed about.
“I understand there is some concern about the Duke of Claremont.” Bella waited a moment to ensure she had every man’s attention. “He was not invited but his presence in our home is nothing out of the ordinary. As a child, he spent many days at Hillcrest.”
“He’s hardly a child anymore,” Nix put in unhelpfully.
No, he most definitely was not. Bella got lost for a moment thinking of all the ways the man she’d faced in the billiard room last night was different from the boy she’d once known. The bravado was much the same, but something was missing. He wasn’t as quick to smile or tease. One could almost see the dukedom weighing on his broad shoulders.
“We must start a new game, gentlemen, so that Miss Prescott and I can join,” Louisa announced as she approached with the green mallet that perfectly matched the ribbon on her dress.