Page 95 of How to Ruin a Rake

“May. I. Speak?”

The duke made an impatient gesture with his hand and took a step toward the window, scowling at the view.

“When we arrived at the house,” Max began, “we found that most of the staff had been dismissed, the furniture had been removed along with all the art and the ornaments, and Mr. and Mrs. Cobbins were living like kings at your expense. Half an hour after our arrival, they fled the house with all the petty cash and probably various other items of worth, because they knew I would be expecting an accounting of their stewardship.”

The duke frowned. “That cannot be true. Mr. Cobbins has always provided me with excellent accounts of this estate.”

“Then he was lying to you,” Max said. “I’ve spent the last month going round the estate to meet the farmers and those who rent property in the village. They’ve not seen any investment in the place since Mr. Cobbins took over. In fact, the reverse. Rents have increased, half the village lost their jobs here at this house, and many were forced to leave their homes.”

The duke didn’t appear convinced. “Still …”

“The fact that he ran off as soon as I appeared should tell you everything you need to know about Mr. Cobbins, your grace. We have spent the last month assessing what needs to be done, reemploying the staff necessary to reopen the house, and generally cleaning up the mess your land agent made. We discovered a lot of the furniture had been stored in the tithe barn, and today we’ve begun putting it back into the rooms that my wife has had cleaned and repaired. That’s what you’re witnessing here today—the culmination of a month’s bloody hard work.”

The duke looked at Allegra, and she nodded.

“Every word my husband has spoken is true,” she said. “The only reason his bank account is lacking funds is because he’s been spending all his money on this estate.” She turned to Max. “Why don’t you go and see if Mrs. Smith has that tea ready, my dear? I’m sure the duke would appreciate some refreshment.”

Allegra waited until Max closed the door before turning back to the duke. “I think you owe my husband an apology.”

The duke visibly stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

“You made assumptions about his character that are patently untrue,” Allegra continued. “Contrary to your opinion, he has been doing everything in his power to set things right here.”

“He should have—”

“With respect, he did not employ Mr. Cobbins, your grace; you did. If there is any fault to be owned, surely it is yours for allowing yourself to be bamboozled by a thief and a liar?”

The duke opened and then closed his mouth as he stared at Allegra. “Mr. Cobbins was selected by my secretary.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to him, because he obviously chose badly.” Allegra paused. “My father always says that a landowner who doesn’t visit his own holdings regularly is asking for trouble.”

The door opened, and Max came in with the tea tray. “My apologies for the delay. They are extremely busy in the kitchen restoring the butler’s pantry for Brice.”

Allegra smiled at Max. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll pour.”

“Mrs. Smith says she has prepared a bedchamber for you, Father, if you wish to take your luggage up?” Max looked at the duke, who had sat down by the fireplace. “Sir?”

“I had no intention of staying the night. I only rode over this morning from Tarleton’s place to see how you were getting on.”

Allegra passed the duke a cup of tea. “You are most welcome to stay, but I quite understand that all this disruption isn’t conducive to a pleasant visit. Perhaps you might return when the house has been restored to its best.”

Max looked at her with wonder as the duke merely sipped his tea and said nothing. He’d been expecting his father to launch into another tirade about how unworthy he was, but whatever Allegra had said when he was gone—and he knew her well enough to know she’d said something—had obviously had a powerful effect.

“Would you care to come to dinner tomorrow evening?” She smiled brightly at the duke. “We should have the dining room and the drawing room back to their best by then, and we’d be delighted to have your company.”

“I’ll speak to my host,” the duke said, as he finished his tea and set the cup back down on the saucer. “I assume you’ll include him in the invitation?”

“Of course,” Allegra said warmly.

The duke stood and said, “Thank you for your hospitality, my dear.”

Allegra curtsied. “Always a pleasure, your grace.” She looked over at Max. “Perhaps you might escort your father to the stables and see him on his way.”

Max took his father out of the front door and around the side of the house rather than through the kitchen. It was a very pleasant and normal day if you ignored the chairs, rolled-up rugs, and paintings stacked against the side of the house waiting to be placed in their proper places.

To Max’s surprise, his father didn’t say a word until they reached the stables and his horse had been fetched.

“Where are the rest of your stable?” the duke asked.