She drew in a slight gasp. Hearing him speak her name aloud was a quiet hit to her heart every time. But she rallied. If that was war, she was determined to come out on top. Besides, Owen held her future in his hands. As the new owner of Buckley Place, he could impact her life. But more than that, she was tired and he was not her enemy.
“Very well. I can agree to a truce.”
Owen’s smile was slight, but it warmed her like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.
Slater cleared his throat at the end of the corridor, garnering their attention.
Owen took a small step away. “Yes?”
“Mr. Presley is here, sir.”
Owen waited. “Who is Mr. Presley?”
“One of your tenants,” Emma said softly. “His roof is leaking terribly and needs to be repaired.”
“Why has it not been done already?”
“I found the workman, but I was in the process of maneuvering the funds when you dismissed me from the study. The workman has likely moved on to another project now.”
“Maneuvering the funds?”
“I’ve explained this before. It was only a struggle because Mrs. Buckley didn’t want to spend money until she knew…until she knew whom it belonged to.”
“I see.” Owen rubbed his eyes. “Where is Mr. Presley waiting, Slater?”
“Outside, sir. He insisted. What answer shall I give him?”
“There is no reason I cannot see the roof repaired right now.” Owen began walking toward the butler.
“Who will do the labor?” Emma asked.
He threw a glance over his shoulder. “I will.”
Emma and Mrs. Buckleysat to dinner that evening for a full five minutes before Owen had joined them, his hair damp and clothing fresh as though he’d bathed before dressing for dinner. His cravat had been hastily tied, and his waistcoat was slightly askew, which was endearing.
Dinner was brought out.
“How is the roof repair coming along?” Emma asked.
Owen considered her. “We came upon a snag when we lost the light, so we’ll need to finish tomorrow. It’s fairly straightforward, however, so I imagine it won’t take long.”
“That is good to hear,” Aunt Clara said. “The Presleys are a hardworking family.”
“Mr. Presley seems to have a level head on his shoulders.”
“Edward felt the same. He would consult Mr. Presley on estate matters occasionally, since the man runs into similar issues when farming his portion of the land.”
Owen nodded slowly. “I will remember that.” His eyes grew distant. “I need to engage a bailiff, don’t I? And a steward? Someone should have known about the Presleys’ roof already and begun repairs.”
“One or the other to start,” Emma suggested, ignoring the slice of blame he directed her way. “You may not need both.”
“Perhaps you could step in until I find a good man.”
“Emma will be too busy helping me move into Primrose End,” Mrs. Buckley said.
“You’ve decided?” he asked.
“It would be best for us all if I have my own establishment.”
