Page 3 of A Lady's Christmas
Her next thought is,what have I done?
ChapterTwo
“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Theo’s heart lodges in his throat. He knows he shouldn’t yell at the staff, but Mrs. Tubbs just told him that Gwen left Treadmore three weeks ago.
“Your Grace, as I said, Miss Carter has left. You will find a letter on your desk with the rest of the accounts she left for whomever you hire as your new steward.” Mrs. Tubbs cocks her head as if ready for his acceptance of the situation.
How can he possibly accept that his ward had left? “What do you mean, new steward? Where is Dockerty?”
Eyes wide, Mrs. Tubbs folds her arms under her large bosom and takes a step back toward the doorway. “Mr. Dockerty passed away six years ago, Your Grace. I thought your uncle would have told you.”
Searching his memory, Theo can find no recollection, though he had been sowing oats and so forth for a good portion of the six years prior. “He might have done, but clearly, I’ve forgotten. Who has been the steward since then and why would they not continue their job?”
“Why, Miss Gwen took care of all the accounts as well as all the household duties. She left you a listing of all accounts before she left.” Mrs. Tubbs gapes at him as if it’s impossible he didn’t know. She has been the housekeeper at Treadmore for longer than Theo has been alive. She’s a nice woman who keeps a clean, orderly home.
Theo is tempted to do her harm for the first time in his life. “Why isn’t Gwendolyn here?”
The butler, George Noble, pushes past Mrs. Tubbs. Perhaps he senses the duke’s growing anger. “She decided to leave of her own accord, Your Grace. Perhaps you might read her correspondence.”
Theo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to keep his temper in check. Even in her absence, Gwendolyn Carter knows just how to drive him to rage. “You may both go. I will read the letter.”
Before the words are fully out of his mouth, both the butler and the housekeeper flee the library and the door shuts.
On the corner of his uncle’s desk is a very neat stack of documents and at the very top, an envelope.Theodore Dandridge, Duke of Strathamis written in Gwen’s graceful handwriting. Sitting, he uses the old knife with the initialsADDetched on the handle to open the envelope. Rubbing his thumb over the engraving, he sighs. “She never gaveyouall this trouble, Uncle. Why does she vex me? I should just let her go and say good riddance.”
He opens the letter. The knot that formed in his chest the moment he’d learned that Gwen had left grows tighter.
Your Grace,
Since I was entrusted to your departed uncle by my parents at the time of their deaths, I feel I’m only a burden to you. I now relieve you of that responsibility. My parents and the late duke were the best of friends, and so I’m sure at the time, it made sense to leave their small child in Alden Dandridge’s caring hands.
My love for your uncle kept me at Treadmore past the time when I should have either married or found employment. I’m no longer a child, and it’s far past the time for me to find my own way in the world. I’m in no danger as I’ve made arrangements for suitable employment.
You will find an account of all household and estate details at the top of the documents. Your new steward should have no problems handling things going forward, as all have been kept in order since the time of Mr. Dockerty’s passing.
I hope you will be well and remember to take care of yourself. I know you don’t like vegetables, but they are good for your health and you should try to eat several servings a day. Your affection for the horses is a good way to stay fit, you might also take up walking and perhaps other outdoor activities.
In no time, you will find a wife to take over the household duties. Until then, Mrs. Tubbs will assist you.
Wishing you all the best,
Gwendolyn E. Carter
Sitting with the letter in his hand for a long time, it’s at once infuriating that she’s left him and amusing that she felt the need to remind him to eat his vegetables.
Certain that the staff knows where she’s gone and equally sure they are sworn to secrecy, he will need to find a way to wheedle the information out of them.
After reading the letter a second time, he studies the immaculately kept accounts that detail the solid ground the estates are on. Farms are paying nicely and regularly. At the bottom of the yearly account in the expenses column is listed “Christmas Ball” but a black mark has been scratched through. At the far side of the account, she has written “canceled” in the same neat handwriting.
He rings for the butler.
A moment later, Noble steps inside the library. “Your Grace?”
“Why has the Christmas Ball at Crestworth House been cancelled?” He hasn’t attended one in years, but if memory serves, it’s very popular, and all the local people and tenants are invited.
Noble clears his throat. “I suppose with the former duke having passed, Miss Carter thought the tradition would fall by the wayside.”
Of course, she thinks he’d have no interest in parties that lack an upper-crust attendance and a monetary goal. He has no one to blame but himself. His behavior has never been filled with warmth or sentiment. So why now does he want his uncle’s ward back at Treadmore?
