“Out back taking down the laundry, m’lord. Shall I fetch her?”
“No, just let her know that I have returned to Ardley Hall.” He strode out, keeping his eyes on the road and not glancing back at the vicar’s residence. Viola was still in his thoughts, but he was not going to seek her out again today.
It was ridiculous to consider that he already missed her company.
In his own defense, she was remarkably comfortable to be around. Perhaps it was something in her manner that put him at ease. She wasn’t noisy nor was she irritatingly quiet as a mouse. She was just…there. Perfectly there and ready to engage him but not chew his ear off.
An odd feeling of contentment flooded through him whenever they were together, especially the occasional times she would look up from scribbling her notes at his grandmother’s old writing desk and smile at him. It felt as though she belonged there, as though the room was not complete without her in it.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair.
The girl was too much on his mind lately.
What was that about?
He returned home and went directly into his study to catch up on the day’s work he had neglected because of his attention to the house party planning. He also called for Mrs. Lester before he became lost in those documents piled atop his massive desk. His was much larger and sturdier than the decorative writing desk used by Viola during their sessions.
“My lord, you summoned me.”
“Yes, Mrs. Lester. I wanted to advise you that Miss Ruskin will be dining with me at midday tomorrow. Kindly let Mrs. Stringer know I will be having company. If the weather is nice, we shall dine on the terrace. Otherwise, the summer dining room will do. Set her place next to mine. It is not a social occasion. We shall be working as we eat.”
“Very good, my lord.”
He spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing contracts relating to Dayne family business matters and then addressing village of Ardley requests with his estate manager, a good man by the name of Charles Wilson. “What else, Wilson?”
“The recent storm damaged the roof on several cottages. Those roofs need to be repaired before the next heavy rains arrive.”
“All right. Put our men to it immediately. What else?”
“Some trees fell across the roadway, no doubt their roots were loosened by the storm. We’ve started clearing them off, but the surrounding trees need to be checked to ensure their roots are firm. Also, portions of the road need to be repaired.”
“Finish clearing the trees first since the road needs to remain unobstructed, then attend to the cottage roofs. We’ll look to check out the upright trees and patch up the damaged road last, assuming it is still passable.”
“It is. Just rutted. I’ll advise the merchants and farmers to drive their wagons with care over that strip.”
Alexander finished his work by early evening and retired to his bedchamber with every intention of reading while sipping a particularly fine brandy. One glass was all he would allow himself. No more drinking himself into oblivion. Viola was not going to find him sprawled on the road in front of the vicarage tomorrow morning or any other morning ever again.
The evening was warm, so he stripped out of his clothes, washed up, and wrapped a towel around his waist before settling into one of the cushioned armchairs beside the unlit hearth. He’d placed the small pile of gossip rags Viola had brought along today atop a small table beside his chair.
Settling in, he began to read by lamplight. “Who is Lord M? And Lady B?”
He had been so out of touch with all that was going on outside of Ardley, he did not pick up on who these misbehaving individuals were. Yet, human nature never changed. The names might differ over the years, but the transgressions were always the same. Adultery, debauchery. Gambling. The occasional illegal duel where the stupid sods, assuming they survived, had to flee to the Continent until the scandal of it died down.
As the midnight hour came and went, Alexander set aside the batch of gossip papers and strode onto his balcony to study the stars. But there were almost none to be seen amid the gathering clouds. The air had turned damp, no doubt a harbinger of rain to come.
He felt the sticky breeze against his skin, and hoped the rain shower would pass quickly during the night. He did not want it lingering through the morning, for it would only delay repairs that needed to be made. Working in the rain was miserable, and he’d had much experience with it during the war years, trying to move artillery over muddy ground, the hours it took to pull a single cannon over a hillock.
The scents of war came flooding back to him as well. The wet wool of their uniforms. The acrid scent of smoke in the air. The mix of mud and blood and grass.
The awful scent of decayed flesh.
He shook his head and returned to the present.
But his present thoughts were all on Viola.
On winter days, when the trees were bare of foliage, he was able to see all the way to the vicarage and beyond to the town of Ardley. But at this time of the year, the trees were lush and green, mostly obscuring his view. He saw little more than an occasional torchlight burning in the distance as the wind shifted the branches to allow for the briefest opening.
A gust rustled through the leaves as he stood looking into the night and he noticed a light glowing through one of the vicarage windows. An upstairs window, which meant one of the bedchambers.
