have lived in the country for most of our lives.” Plymouth was a shipping town, but still far from the exciting pace of London.
Harriet’s brow furrowed. “If he thinks the country boring, then why would he bother to buy the place?”
“He claims fond memories of the manor as it belonged to his late father. But I’m certain he hadn’t a hand in caring for the place. How long will it take before he expires of boredom? Before he misses the challenge and excitement of London, the Season, and his legal cases?”
Harriet measured Bella with an appraising look. “If he’s looking for a challenge, then he best prepare to battle you.”
Chapter 5
Bella decided she should go about the rest of her day as if the duke had never arrived. She had scheduled interviews to meet with a local cook, a parlor maid, a head gardener, and most importantly, a steward. Harriet would oversee the staff as head housekeeper. As Bella had no plans to entertain, she decided to postpone hiring a butler.
Bella left her room, straightened her shoulders, and marched down the stairs. There was no sign of Blackwood, but a second coach had arrived with more of his belongings; his servants were busy carrying trunks from the coach into the house.
The duke had arrived with five servants in all, and they presented themselves courteously, although not as if she was the lady of the house. She learned Coates was Blackwood’s manservant, and he was clearly in charge, ordering the two footmen and the driver to carry the duke’s belongings to the master’s chambers. The fifth was a small scrap of a boy with red hair and freckles named Bobby, who was the stable boy and responsible for Blackwood’s prized horses.
The amount of baggage was substantial, and the men took turns passing trunks to each other and up the stairs like busy ants.
Coates bowed. “Pardon the intrusion, Mrs. Sinclair. We shall not be much longer. Most of the baggage is for the master’s chambers.”
Bella forced a smile, feeling as if her face would crack from the effort. “I’m sure His Grace has found his room temporarily suitable.”
“I’m certain, Mrs. Sinclair,” Coates responded. If the man heard her sarcasm, he showed no outward reaction.
The door knocker rattled, drawing her attention. The door remained open as the duke’s servants continued to unload the coach, and a portly man with fleshy jowls stood on the front step, his brown eyes wide as he noted the activity.
“Good afternoon. My name is Sigmund Gibbs, and I’m here to apply for the position of steward. I had no idea residents would be moving in today.”
“Thank you for arriving on time, Mr. Gibbs,” Bella said. “I’m Mrs. Sinclair, the owner of the manor, and the place is in need of a steward.”
Ignoring Coates’s inquisitive gaze, she steered Sigmund Gibbs around a particularly large trunk and into the drawing room. Motioning for him to take a seat on a leather chair, she sat on the settee opposite him.
Folding her hands in her lap, she looked at the man expectantly. “Tell me, have you experience as a steward, Mr. Gibbs?”
He nodded, and the folds of skin above his tightly tied cravat reminded her of an elephant’s wrinkled hide. “I’ve some, but not for a manor as grand as Wyndmoor.”
Bella frowned. Wyndmoor Manor was small compared to most country estates. The hundred acres surrounding it were beautiful and had been meticulously kept, but there were those estates that boasted thousands of acres with many tenants to oversee. The size of Wyndmoor was one of the reasons Bella had been drawn to it. It was small enough to manage and with the rents from Wyndmoor’s tenants she could afford its upkeep.
“Tell me exactly what experience you do have.”
“Well, I’ve—”
The door to the drawing room burst open and in strode Blackwood. His well-groomed appearance exuded masculinity and authority at once, and a powerful swirl of energy surrounded him.
“What’s this I’m told, you are interviewing for the position of steward?”
She feigned a smile, and remained seated. “I am. Wyndmoor Manor is in need of a steward unless, of course, you are volunteering for the position, Your Grace.”
He laughed, and the lively twinkle in his blue eyes only incensed her more. “I would, my dear, but the manor already has a steward.”
Sigmund Gibbs’s jaw dropped, and he jumped to his feet. “Your lord ... I mean Your Grace, I meant no disrespect.”
“Sit down, Mr. Gibbs,” Bella said. “His Grace is mistaken. There is no steward.”
“Oh, but there is, Mrs. Sinclair,” Blackwood drawled in a deep-timbered voice. “Gideon Jacobson has been Wyndmoor Manor’s steward for twenty-six years.”
She grit her teeth. “May I have a word with you in private, Your Grace?”
“Of course.” He turned to Mr. Gibbs. “Thank you for coming today. We will send word to you should another position become available.”
Sigmund Gibbs bowed to Blackwood and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to leave the room. The door closed on his way out.
How dare he! she thought.
She whirled to him. “I meant for us to speak privately in another room.”
He sat on the arm of the settee, his long legs crossed at his booted feet. “I do believe we got off on the wrong foot. Please call me James. I find the title tedious.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “That would be most improper.”
He arched a dark eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement. “And living together is proper? You are full of contradictions, Bella.”
“It’s Mrs. Sinclair.”
“That’s a dreadful waste. Bella is such a beautiful name. It fits you.”
He gave her a smile that sent her pulses racing. She was struck by how devastatingly handsome he truly was, and combined with his flattering words, the man could be utterly charming when he chose. She imagined the women of London flocked to him in droves. An uneasiness rose in her that she fought to hide.
What on earth was his game?
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to distract me from the topic at hand?”
“Is it working?”
“It is not. As mistress here, I am in charge of the servants.”
“That is debatable.” He held up a hand to stop her from arguing further. “However, I only ask that you hear me out before passing judgment. The position of steward is most important. I find it difficult to believe any other would have the same number of years as experience. Gideon Jacobson loved this place until Redmond Reeves unjustly dismissed him. As I said, it was Jacobson’s home for twenty-six years. Can you say the same for your Mr. Gibbs?”
She could not. From what she had heard the man barely had any experience.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have already brought in five of your servants. I only have Harriet. I refuse to have every other servant under your influence.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Fine. I assume there were others you were planning on retaining. I’ll leave them up to you.”
She was surprised by his easy manner. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“It’s James, remember?” He stood to leave, then turned. “By the way, will you dine with me this evening?”
He was trying to charm her. “There’s no cook.”
He winked. “Then hire one today.”
James did not have time to consider whether