Page 3 of The One With the Rogue Duke

Ash chuckled softly to himself.

“I don’t need them to know I’m possibly the new owner. What I need is to find out what’s wrong with this place in the most honest fashion.”

“By hiding yourself?”

“I’m not hiding. I’m just not…revealing. The less people know about me as a duke, the more they’ll share with me as staff here.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Grice mumbled. “Gotta say it’s a mite bit strange working shoulder to shoulder with a duke.”

“I’m not here to make you uncomfortable—”

“Not saying I’m uncomfortable,” he scratched his head, “just saying it’s…a mite bit strange.”

“I appreciate the mite bite of strangeness you’re willing to bear. Including all the investigations I’ve been doing and since being onsite here, I’ve learned a significant amount. The earl was withholding payments—

“Speaking of payments. That reminds me. After your last visit, we all noticed the butler and the housekeeper handing out wages like it was Christmas over here. You don’t know anything about that now, do you?”

“Can’t say as I do, Grice. But as I was saying—hating of course to speak ill of the dead—ol’ Alec, the ol’ earl was firing expert staff, overharvesting, overhunting, overspending on repairs. Building unnecessary structures. And follies. Oh, the countless follies. The man hadn’t a clever bone in his body.”

“Can’t say for sure…but he did marry a clever bone.”

Ash scoffed. “Lady Verity?”

“The very one.”

“Clever?” He choked back a laugh.

“Yup.”

“Verity Hawthorne, Dowager Countess of Sanmel? The hostess of the impending house party I’m supposed to be attending?” He stood to his full six feet two inches, hands on his hips, in full disbelief. And perhaps, a mite bit of disdain.

“It’s just as I said it, three times now. Might be you lacking some clever bones?” Less two teeth, Grice’s grin still filled his face. “Your Grace?” he tacked on more in jest than reverence.

“I don’t think we’re talking about the same woman here.”

“About yay high? Blonde hair like golden snowflakes and blue eyes like the shimmering surface of the sea?”

“Didn’t take you for a poet, Grice.”

“Some women make a poet out of a pauper.”

“And some women, like Verity, make a pauper out of an earl.” Ash gestured toward the land, “If this is how he took care of his property, imagine how much he spent on gowns, jewelry, baubles, and whatever else a woman like that wants. I’d bet my last farthing that she was the one demanding all those follies.”

“Unlikely—”

A loud shuffling and a stamping of hooves shook the stall. “Whoa!” Ash settled a hand softly on Blackmare’s nose, keenly watching the hard swish of her back tail as he soothed her tense body. “That’s a good girl.”

“She’s spooked today,” Grice commented in low tones.

“Probably this damn house party.”

“That or a storm on the way. If it’s so damned, why are you going in the first place?”

“I told Temperance I would.”

“Temperance?”

“Verity’s sister. Though how the two are related, I have no idea. The twins, Prudence and Temperance, I understand. Even Fidelia, from what I’ve heard. But where did Verity come from? She’s a spoiled debutante who thinks she’s entitled to whatever she wants.”