Not that he minded, for he found himself fatigued and restless all at once. His mind had not stopped thinking about the previous afternoon and the disappointing reception from both Penelope and the Duke.
He was about to rise in order to numb his sorrows with a bottle of wine when a carriage turned onto the driveway. He rose and found his heart beating faster when he recognized the Coat of Arms emblazed on the side. It was that of the House of Branigan.
Could it be Penelope? He shook his head at once. No, of course not. Why would she come? Neither she nor the Duke seemed eager to spend time with him, and they certainly would not be coming to his estate to call on him, of that he was sure.
And yet… For a brief moment, he held on to the hope that it might be her. However, his hopes were dashed when instead of Penelope or her father, Mr. Percival stepped out of the carriage. He frowned. Why would the Duke of Branigan’s steward call on him?
He raised a hand toward the man who responded by removing his top hat and bowing deeply.
“Mr. Percival,” he greeted him. “What an unexpected surprise. What brings you here on this fine day?”
The steward flashed a smile at him “His Grace has sent me. He has informed me of your need for a new estate steward, and he has asked me to render my services in helping you find a suitable option posthaste.”
Posthaste. There it is again. The same term the Duke used yesterday. I did not imagine it. He does not wish for me to remain here in the country long. But why?
“That is a kind gesture of him, although I hate to take up your time.”
The steward shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“His Grace is always happy to assist, as you well know. Perhaps we may study your books to see what is needed? I have a few candidates in mind already, but one may be more suitable than another, based on what your books show.”
Daniel shrugged. “I suppose so. By all means, follow me. We might as well get to work right away. The Duke would surely want me to conclude my business here sooner rather than later.” He looked at the man, waiting for a response, but he continued to look at Daniel in the same stoic manner.
He entered into the Manor, Mr. Percival following him at a respectable distance. As they made their way to Daniel’s study in the back of the home, he studied Mr. Percival from the side. Unlike the Duke, Mr. Percival had not changed much over the years. His hair was still black, his pale face still covered in stubble, and his attire as impeccable as ever. When they entered into the study that once belong to Daniel’s father, he turned to his unexpected guest.
“Brandy, Mr. Percival? Or perhaps a glass of cognac?” He glanced at the small armoire beside his desk which held several glasses and bottles, all of them left there by his father all those years ago.
“I’ll take a glass of cognac, if you do not mind, My Lord.”
Daniel nodded and picked up the bottle along with a single glass, setting both down before the steward.
“Help yourself,” he said and took a seat.
The steward looked at the bottle and smiled. “Croizet Léon. A fine choice in cognac. You share your father’s good taste in beverages.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid not. This is a gift. I do not care for cognac. Or brandy. My tastes are a little more common. A good glass of ale will do me. Not that I would ever say so in the company of the upper classes.”
Mr. Percival chuckled. “Ale? You are right, it is best to keep that to yourself. And you had better not let His Grace hear that.”
“He would throw me out of the manor, I know it. He used to always tell me ale and pottage were the staples of the paupers and to never be caught eating or drinking either for it would make me a pauper by default.”
The steward grinned as he nodded. “That sounds very much like His Grace. And I assume it is what inspired you to take up drinking ale.”
Daniel felt himself break into a smile. “Indeed. I suppose I always was a little contrary.”
“That you were, My Lord. That you were. Another thing you have in common with your late father.”
The mention of his father caused the smile to fade from his face and he studied the steward once more. He seemed to know a fair amount about his father. Why was that? Had they been friends? He did not recall seeing Mr. Percival at the estate often as a child, but he never paid any mind to such matters.
“Did you know my father well? You commented on his favorite drink as well as his character. That leads me to believe that maybe you did.”
Mr. Perceval took a sip and set down the glass, clearing his throat. “I was well acquainted with Mr. Scott, your steward. But I did have occasion to keep the company of your father from time to time, too.” He paused and looked Daniel up and down before adding. “He was a good man, the Earl. Before all of it.”
Daniel said nothing for a moment. He was not used to being around people who knew his father personally. Indeed, there were no relatives or friends on his father’s side at all. The only relations he kept in sporadic contact with were his mother’s siblings, although they all lived in Scotland, her home. And naturally, none of them had anything good to say about his father.
He often found himself wishing there was someone he could question about those times long ago. Over the years he had spent many hours thinking about his father’s fate and wondering what led him to go down the path he found himself on. Had he always been destined to become a man who would kill his own wife and leave his only son orphaned? Could he have avoided this fate? And could Daniel? Or was he, too, meant to one day become a mad Earl, just like his father?
He rubbed his lips together and hesitated for a moment as the steward took another sip of cognac. Then, bracing himself, Daniel asked the question that was burning on his chest.
