Of course, he had a housekeeper.
But the poor woman had no way of knowing his schedule when he did not know it himself.
Having her come in for a few hours daily to clean his apartment, restock the basics needed for a proper home, and tend to his dirty clothes and linens was enough for him.
He stared out the window as he rode along the park toward Belgravia and wondered what he should do with the once elegant Davenport townhouse that was becoming an eyesore for his neighbors.Another reason he hadn’t bothered to move in was because it was rather shabby and would require considerable refurbishing before it rose to the standards worthy of a duke.
He had inherited a small staff along with the townhouse and chose to keep them on for now because an empty house would attract thieves.Also, he was a working man and could not see himself dismissing others who probably needed their jobs to support their families.
He had not spoken of this to Tulip, but knew she would approve.
As for the townhouse itself, the structural bones were good.
The servants quarters and kitchen areas were also in far better condition than the rest of the house because no one trespassed in those areas except for the servants who had a respect for property.
Everything else within the house that had been touched by a Davenport was a wreck.There was a grand staircase that was not so grand at the moment.Doors were scratched.Floors were gouged.The walls were chipped of paint, and there were rips and stains in the wallpaper.
It was as though animals had resided in the main part of the house.
Not much of a surprise.
The Davenport dukes were mostly animals.
In truth, this troubled him very much.
His mother had done her best to keep him away from the Davenport influence, but it could not be denied that he closely resembled that side in looks.
Indeed, the family resemblance was surprisingly strong among the male line.
The man Tulip had noticed staring at him through the window at the Denby Arms could very well have been a relation of his.
Drat.
He needed to learn more about his family.
And he knew just where to get reliable information on them in the shortest amount of time.
No one was a better source than the tiny terror who struck fear among thetonelite, Lady Phoebe Withnall.The lady was not merely well connected, but had a better web of spies and informants than the Home Office itself.
He knew of several constables who relied on her assistance whenever they were puzzled by a particular crime, especially one that involved the Upper Crust.
He had spoken to her on one or two occasions.
No secrets were safe from her.
After checking on the Davenport townhouse, talking to the servants to see if anything was needed urgently and being assured all was in order, he strode back to his carriage.They seemed to be a good staff, and had walked him through the rooms of the house with a sense of pride and obvious care.
Even though the townhouse itself was a bit of a rambling wreck, the staff was organized, efficient, and presented him with a workable budget for the coming months.
The monthly allowance he had already authorized for them would do the trick.
One less thing to worry about.
“Back to Bloomsbury?”his driver asked as Alex approached the carriage and got ready to climb in.
“No, Trent.A change in plans.”
“Aye, Your Grace.Where to next?”
