A Baron in Her Bed by Maggi Andersen

chair. “You were lucky to find anyone on that road. Who was it?”
    “Simon Rawlings, a groom in the employ of Colonel Cavendish of Malforth Manor.”
    “You were lucky.” Eustace picked up a bell from the table next to him and rang it. “A servant will show you to your chamber. We have much to talk about. I’ll join you in the breakfast room after you’ve bathed.”
    Guy followed the footman to his bedchamber, noticing further evidence of neglect. He had been given one of the lesser suites in the east wing. Eustace had not felt the need to vacate the famous blue suite where royalty had once slept. It had been Guy’s father’s bedchamber and his grandfather’s before him. The room had not been cleaned for many a long year. Guy rang for a servant and gazed at his room’s dull paneling and faded yellow brocade. It appeared that Eustace resented him being here, despite the house remaining at his disposal if he wished to stay. Guy had made that clear in his missive, and he was more than little annoyed at the man’s casual attitude.
    Over breakfast, Eustace didn’t see fit to question where Guy had spent the night, so Guy didn’t offer the information.
    “I plan to leave for London when the season begins.” Eustace raised a tankard of ale to his lips.
    “This house will remain your home should you chose to live here,” Guy said, making sure Eustace understood.
    Eustace’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Thank you, but Parliament opens soon, although London’s a bit thin of society until spring when everyone returns to open their houses. The lease of your London house does not expire until the end of the year, as I informed you. Then it will take considerable time for the rooms to be made fit for your use.”
    “I saw enough of it to know I can’t take my bride there. I expect I shall sell it and buy a townhouse with a better address.”
    “You have chosen a bride?”
    “No. But I intend to begin looking for one.”
    “You’ll wish to do that in London. You’ll reside with me, of course.”
    “I am grateful for your kind offer , but I don’t plan to return to London for a while. There is much to do here,” Guy said with a careful glance at Eustace. “We could do with more servants and the house and grounds are in need of repair.”
    Eustace’s salt and pepper eyebrows snapped together. “I did my best.” His shoulders stiffened. “The whole country is in a bad way. There’s revolutionary talk in the air, and the servants prefer the large towns over the country. It has been very hard to find suitable staff.”
    “London appears to be filled with homeless soldiers and sailors, and the half-starved unemployed,” Guy agreed. “I wonder if I might find some suitable servants among them.”
    Eustace shook his head. “Untrained and unscrupulous men are worse than none.”
    “Then I shall write to a London employment service.”
    “The cost to keep an estate this size has become crippling in recent years.”
    It was Guy’s turn to frown. “What about the tenant farmers?”
    “England is in a very poor state after years of war,” Eustace reiterated. “There’s little money to be made on the land. Once you’ve recovered, I’ll instruct the office manager to show you the ledgers.”
    His nostrils pinched, Eustace rose and excused himself, leaving Guy to eat alone. He chewed on a piece of bacon. Things must change and fast. He beckoned to the lone footman standing against the wall in his threadbare livery.
    “Moody, isn’t it? What is the estate manager’s name?”
    “Mr. Ellis, my lord.”
    “Find him and inform him I shall expect him in the library with his books at eleven o’clock.”
    The footman bowed and left Guy to plan his day, despite a persistent headache. If the weather permitted, he would ride out and search for his portmanteau. He hoped to visit some of the tenant farmers. He needed more information before he accepted Eustace’s excuses. His relative had been given a very