Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book(66)

Henry was furious and disappointed at the same time. His letter to his father meant nothing. And these men were not going to back off. For the first time, Henry understood that he might not be in a situation of misunderstanding. His father never reacted in this way in the past, so he had no reason to believe he would this time. Could this time really be different?

Had having ceded the responsibilities to Lord Sutton caused this to be real? He would have to wait until he got to Edgewood. Someone there with loyalties to him would save him.

When he went to his room earlier last evening to keep the men from enjoying a second bowl of stew, he had only hurt himself. The rest of the evening, he sat in a small, narrow room with nothing but a fireplace, a desk, and chair, two small beds, a ewer and bowl and a screen behind which he could meet his needs.

Charlie’s wife, dirty apron, hair flowing out of her cap in odd places and a suspicious rash on the back of her hands came to the table to serve four ales. She came back with two loaves of brown bread and a large block of cheese with a knife.

The men allowed Henry to go first then took a generous portion for themselves. She came back with the stew, filled to the top. Henry tried it and found it palatable. The men dunked the bread into the stew, and Henry called for another loaf.

The men eyed Henry and what Henry thought was a dare for him to get up and leave the table to go to bed. Henry wasn’t planning on it, but if he were, those eyes would have changed his mind.

All were full, and the second tankard of ale topped off the pleasure of the meal. The sleep that came to all four men was surprisingly comfortable and quiet. The men rotated from the bed to the room to outside the bedroom door. Each got rest.

All sighed relief the next morning, planning to arrive at the final destination in the late afternoon. Henry wasn’t sure he could straighten out his problem within minutes of arrival.

The downpour began within a half hour after the start of their journey home. Henry wasn’t happy about the carriage having to slow because of this turn of events. He pounded on the ceiling of the carriage, “Faster, man, faster.”

After the fourth call for the driver to go faster, the driver stopped the carriage, got down from his perch, and peered into the window of the carriage.

“Let me explain something to whoever is pounding on the ceiling yelling for me to go faster. I don’t have the benefit of being inside this dry carriage during this bad weather. I have to sit in the pouring rain. Not only do I have to sit in it but also I must slow my speed since it’s difficult to see the ruts from the rain on the road.

“If the ceiling is pounded on again, I will pull the carriage over, and wait out the rain with you inside the dry carriage.”

He turned and began to walk to his perch when he heard Henry say, “Get back here now and address me properly. Do not speak to me as if I were a commoner. Back here now.”

The carriage lurched and moved forward. Henry was both furious and flabbergasted. How dare he speak to his betters in that way. He couldn’t wait to fire the arrogant driver without a reference. He would make sure that man never got another job anywhere in England.

He looked at the men across from him. They continued to stare straight ahead. They had not said a word since the moment Henry had the displeasure of seeing them come and take him away. Talking with them would be a waste of his breath – they weren’t going to talk back.

He had to wait. If he was second as the caretaker of the estate, the steward, Frank Abbott was authorized to act as if he were third. If they wouldn’t listen to him, Frank would straighten them out. Frank straighten them out? Probably not. He was an underling. Why did they need to be straightened out? He should have had complete and total authority. His father had taken this whole attempted murder thing to a new level of ridiculousness.

Henry leaned his head back onto the edge of the cushion and closed his eyes. His father meant to give him trouble this time.

When the carriage drove up the long, tree-lined path to the estate, it took a right turn onto a small, less travelled path. The path led to the dower house.

He remembered his father saying something about the dower house. Was he really supposed to live there? There were only ten bedchambers, a dozen rooms, and the servants’ quarters. It was tiny.

The carriage halted in front of Henry’s new quarters. Not knowing what to expect, Henry was slow to leave the carriage.

“My Lord,” Minton bowed.

“Minton, what are you doing here?” Henry asked.

“I have the pleasure of being your butler, My Lord,” Minton answered.

“My butler?”

“Yes, My Lord. You must be in need of refreshment after your journey. Should I ordered tea and explain my duties for you?”

“Yes, I believe that will be necessary.”

*****

Minton waited in the parlour, tea and refreshments on the table in front of a comfortable chair, waiting while Henry took care of personal needs.

Henry and his guards arrived, sat, and Minton began to prepare his tea. While he did, Henry looked at him. “Go on, Minton.”

Minton viewed his duty with both glee and misery. The heir, as all the servants in the house referred to Henry, was now a prisoner. With glee, Minton and a select few were his servants.

They would watch his descent into misery. And see what would come of him. He would cause misery, no doubt. And Minton would be the person he would most lash out at.