Page 50 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
CHAPTER 14
The carriage wheels slowed over the long gravel drive, the sound familiar in a way that required no thought.
Maxwell did not lean forward to look. He did not need to. He knew precisely what waited at the end of that approach, had not altered it in years, and as the carriage came to a measured stop, he felt the certainty of it settle over him before the door was even opened.
“Your Grace,” the footman said as he stepped down.
Maxwell descended without hesitation.
Northwood Hall stood exactly as it always had. Stone darkened by time, windows set in perfect symmetry, every line precise, every detail maintained. There was no sense of movement in it, no suggestion that anything within had changed in his absence. It stood as it had always stood.
Unchanged.
He stepped inside, the air cooler than outside, carrying the faint scent of polish and stillness. The entrance hall was immaculate. No object out of place. No sign that anyone had moved through it with anything less than intention.
“Welcome home, Your Grace.”
The butler appeared almost immediately, his posture rigid, his tone measured. He inclined his head just enough to acknowledge Maxwell’s return without presuming familiarity.
Maxwell removed his gloves slowly. “Has everything proceeded as expected?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
There was a pause, the kind that lingered just long enough to suggest there was more to say, though the man did not volunteer it.
Maxwell glanced at him. “If there is an issue, you will speak plainly.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The butler straightened slightly. “The steward is waiting in your study.”
“Very well.”
Maxwell moved through the house without further comment, his steps echoing faintly against the polished floors. Each room he passed bore the same careful order, the same absence of disruption. It was exactly as he had left it.
And yet, as he crossed the threshold into his study, the thought came unbidden.
Arabella would not like this place.
The realization was immediate, unwelcome in its clarity. There was no space here for laughter, no allowance for disorder, no room for the kind of presence she carried so easily. The house would not accommodate her. He could see it plainly enough. There was nowhere she would set something down without it being corrected.
He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.
“Your Grace.”
The steward rose from his position near the desk, a stack of ledgers already arranged before him. His expression was composed, though there was a tightness at the edges that suggested the calm was not entirely secure.
“Sit,” Maxwell said, taking his place.
The steward obeyed, opening the top ledger with careful precision. “There are several matters requiring your attention,” he began. “Collections have not met expectations this quarter.”
Maxwell’s gaze moved over the figures as they were presented. “Specify.”
“Several tenants have fallen behind,” the steward said. “Particularly those in the western holdings. Weather has affected their yields more severely than anticipated.”
“And the measures taken?”
“We issued notices,” the steward replied. “As per your standing instructions.”
Maxwell’s expression did not change. “And the result?”
