“Sorting! Everything is in a jumble. But I found a treasure. Come and see.” She tugged him by the hand.
Gideon applauded her methods and took his time reading the patent. “I was four years old and already sweeping in my grandfather’s tavern when that was issued,” he said. “Anything else of interest?”
“Not yet, but a timeline may help. If you were born in 1781, we may need to go back a few years. We may need the other box,” she said.
“Well done. I’ll see to it another table is brought up so we have a place to eat.” He sobered suddenly. “We may want to eat downstairs, though.”
“Eventually, I suspect. Is that what you prefer?”
He smiled ruefully. “I rather prefer our private meals. But if you aren’t seen below stairs, rumors may start that I’ve done you in.”
She made a rude noise. “Mercy was up here half the morning fishing for gossip. She’ll know I’m perfectly fine.”
He took her by the hand to the settee by the window and drew her into his lap. “That’s better. We need to hire a maid for you. Someone with no loyalties in this house. We may have to send to London,” he mused, stroking her hair.
“Pishposh. I can do for myself. I did most of the time anyway while Kerr made herself busy with my cousin. You don’t have a valet, do you?”
He told her about Jem and his suspicions. “The whole situation is odd.”
“You think he’s diddling the books?”
“I’ve begun to think he’s the actual bookkeeper. It would help if I could get a sample of his handwriting. If he is, he’s stealing. Small discrepancies started eight months after the ledger entries changed to a new hand.”
“If he works for Marshall, why isn’t Marshall catching it?”
“That’s another odd thing. I brought Mrs. Millbrook’s report from the dairy. I asked him what he thought of it, and he made some vague comment about her being efficient. I’m sure he didn’t read it, and that isn’t the first time. I’ve begun to wonder if he just can’t read.”
“A steward that can’t read would be a problem. He’d want to hide that. He’s certainly intelligent enough. I wonder…,” Mia mused.
He moved his head to peer down at her. “You wonder what?”
“There was a man like that in Yorkshire, a friend of my father. He had a successful business, could hold his own in any conversation, and yet could not read. My father was convinced something prevented it. Papa admired him. He told me he coped by having his son read everything for him—that, and he had a prodigious memory. Marshall may have the same problem.” Something he’d said struck her. “What were you doing with the dairy’s report?”
“She assumed I’d come for it, and I allowed her to think it. I actually rode over to ask about Lizzy Carter. Hector trotted along with me, by the way. He seems to be thriving.”
“What did you learn?”
“Not much.” He repeated everything Mrs. Millbrook had told him.
“I can see that she might want to get away from her father. I don’t see her going off with a man, however. I wonder if she thought she could find employment in a larger town, the foolish mite.”
“Would you mind riding over to the village with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“So that they know I still have all my body parts?” she teased, inhaling deeply. He smelled of horse and effort but also of pine forest and the out of doors.
“That. But mostly to see what people know about Bill Carter.”
She rubbed her nose on his neck, enjoying the scent of him. He kissed her then, a soft, possessive kiss that heated quickly.
“I think we’ll stay private here for one more evening. What do you think?” he asked against her ear.
She didn’t respond. She was too busy kissing the spot above his neckcloth.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As it turnedout, it was well after breakfast on the third day after the wedding when they decided to ride into Nether Abbas. They didn’t leave their suite the night after Gideon returned from his visit to the dairy, or the following day, either. The box of family papers lay forgotten on the table where it had been when Mia opened it—there being much more pleasurable pursuits to be had for a newly married pair. They made do with trays by the fire—or in bed. That suited Mia down to her toes. Days had been growing colder, their bed warmer.
“Do you suppose we scandalized the grooms?” Mia asked with a sidelong glance at Gideon. She rode a sweet little mare named Buttercup, one she was pleased to find lively for her age. Marshall had dredged up an ancient sidesaddle when she’d asked for one.
