Page 59 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

Ashwood inclined his head, stiff and resentful, though his eyes remained fixed on hers.

“As you wish,” he said tightly. “I shall have them delivered by evening.”

“No,” Eliza said. “Now.”

Another pause. A test.

He pulled a set of ledgers from a drawer and placed them on the desk with a force that suggested more than inconvenience. Eliza gathered them without comment and turned to leave.

At the doorway she paused.

“You may continue to oversee operations,” she said, “but do not remove me from communication again. That is not your prerogative.”

She did not wait for an answer.

*

She carried the books to the small morning-room desk where sunlight pooled across the polished wood. The moment she opened the first ledger, her breath caught.

Entries were incomplete. Some were missing. Dates had been altered. Payments logged incorrectly, not by mistake, but by design.

Ashwood was shaping a record.

If the books were reviewed later, it would appear that tenants were behind on rents, that decisions had been delayed, that mismanagement had crept in quietly and steadily. And that the steward had stepped in to stabilize matters.

Eliza’s hands stilled. A cold awareness spread slowly through her chest, not panic, but the unmistakable sensation of seeing intention where she had hoped to find incompetence.

This was not simply an erosion of authority.

It was preparation.

The door opened softly.

Eleanor entered with her cane, expression composed.

“Has he begun?” she asked.

Eliza turned the ledger so she could see a single page. Eleanor’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Crude,” she said.

“You suspected.”

“I did.” Eleanor settled into a chair with the ease of someone long practiced at reading both people and numbers. “Ashwood believes stability comes from consolidation. He will justify interference as efficiency.”

“And use these discrepancies to argue I am unfit.”

“Precisely.”

Eliza exhaled. “How long has he been planning this?”

“Since the moment Nathaniel became duke.” Eleanor’s voice softened. “Some men cannot endure uncertainty. They fear what they cannot direct. And you, my dear, are not easily directed.”

Eliza’s mouth curved faintly. “No.”

Eleanor leaned forward. “Do not confront him yet. He expects outrage. Watch instead. Gather what you need. Let his impatience expose him.”

“And Thomas.”