Grace stared at Mr Smith, her mind racing. So, this was his plan all along. She had been a fool to believe that Charles would, at the very least, leave her and Heather with a roof over their heads.
She had spent years ensuring Skye Manor flourished, working tirelessly to improve the Estate, increase its profitability, and support the tenants.
And now, all of it would be handed over to a stranger.
Her stomach twisted with dread.
Who was the new owner? Would he care for the land and its people—or would he see it as just another asset, stripping it of its value before moving on to his next conquest?
Mr Smith cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I believe this concludes our business, Miss Skye,’ he said, his tone brisk, as though eager to escape the unpleasantness of the situation.
‘I shall return in two weeks. The new steward will be arriving to take possession and will require all the keys, so the property must be vacated before then.’
‘Won’t the new steward require a handover?’ Grace pressed. Surely, he will need to understand the land, the tenants, and the staff—I have been acting as steward these last twelve months since Travers, our last steward, died.’
Mr Smith’s face darkened, his walrus-like moustache twitching in irritation.
‘That will not be necessary,’ he replied stiffly. ‘Mr Skye has recommended a new steward to Lord Armitage. I am sure he has already informed Mr Gibbs of everything required for his new post.’
Lord Armitage? The new owner of Skye Estate—a name Grace had not heard before.
Before she could question him further, Mr Smith pushed back his chair, calling over his shoulder, ‘Come, Paul, we must be on our way!’
Paul?
Grace turned, startled, as Mr Smith Junior hesitated, shifting awkwardly by the door.
The younger man had remained silent throughout the meeting. But now, he lingered, his gaze full of hesitation.
After a moment’s pause, he stepped forward, a flicker of guilt in his expression. ‘Miss Skye, I am very sorry for your predicament,’ he said quietly.
Then, with a swift movement, he pulled a small card from his coat pocket and extended it to her. ‘If there is anything I can do to assist you in this difficult time, please send word. I would be most happy to help at a moment’s notice.’
Grace blinked rapidly, willing away the tears that threatened to fall.
Stupefied by this unexpected kindness, she took the card, her fingers trembling slightly.
She murmured her thanks, but before she could say more, Mr Smith Senior barked impatiently, ‘Paul! Come along!’
With a final look, Mr Smith Junior gave her a short nod before turning on his heel and following his father out the door.
The moment they were gone, Grace sank into a chair, her limbs heavy. A heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
The irony of her earlier statement came to mind, Charles had thrown them out onto the street after all.
Chapter 3
After a long while, Grace wiped her tears and took a steadying breath.
I will not let this defeat me.
Straightening her shoulders, as she always did when refusing to be beaten down, she opened the study door and stepped out to deliver Charles’s decree to Heather, Mrs Merriweather, and Johnson.
Johnson, the butler, was a grumpy northerner with an outwardly strict demeanour. Grace had often wondered why her parents had hired him.
But after her mother’s passing, she had come to understand.
Beneath his gruff exterior was a soft heart, and his unwavering loyalty to the Skye family had shone through those dark times. He had stood by them, helping her through the grief of losing her beloved mother.
