Page 33 of Undercover Duke
As he walked back into the other room, engaging her uncle in conversation, Sheridan placed a hand on her elbow to stay her. “Are yousureyou don’t want me to call him out?”
“Quite sure.”
“Nonetheless, tomorrow I will call on you and your mother myself. And try to time it so I arrive shortly after Lord Lisbourne.”
“NowthatI would appreciate,” she said with a grateful smile. “If it’s no trouble.”
He stared at her a long moment before dropping his hand from her elbow with a shuttered look. “No trouble at all. You’re practically a member of our family. Grey would never forgive me for letting anything happen to his favorite cousin.”
Her heart sank. After kissing him, being kissed by him, dancing with him . . . laughing with him tonight, he still saw her as a little sister who needed protecting?
Not only was that disheartening, but she didn’t know if she could go back to being nothing more than a friend to Sheridan. Yet how much longer could she endure the battering that his mercurial nature gave her self-confidence?
Chapter Seven
The morning after Thorn’s party, Sheridan stared at the account ledgers for his estate, hoping to make the numbers resolve into something that made sense to him. Because he honestly couldn’t see why his various properties’ finances hadn’t shown any real improvement since a year ago, when the death of his father had forced Sheridan to take them over.
He’d instituted several of the changes to his crops Grey had suggested, but so far those hadn’t helped. When he’d mentioned that to Grey, his brother had said it would take time to see results. While Sheridan could understand that, surely their more abundant harvest this past autumn should have increased their income. Sheridan had even read up on ways to sell his property’s viable resources, like timber and game, and had begun auctioning off items that might turn a quick profit, but while it had helped slow the bleeding, it hadn’t stanched it entirely.
Damn it all to hell.
Sheridan shifted in his chair to stare out of the French doors at the courtyard garden. When he’d first seen the study, after his family had arrived from Prussia, he’d thought it badly designed. The room was long but not very wide across, a width that was reduced by the bookshelves lining either side. Since the door to the hall faced the glass doors to the garden, the only place to put a desk was off to the side of the French doors. That meant the desk chair faced away from the garden.
Over time he came to realize that the room had certain practicalities. Since the courtyard had a lot of light, which the glass doors let into the study, he could often see well enough in summer not to even need a lamp or candle until long into the evening. And if he turned in his chair, he could watch the robins and warblers come to bathe in the fountain or revel in the cool dark green of English ivy growing up the walls. These days, he spent a great deal of time seeking comfort in his little glimpse of the outdoors. It didn’t substitute entirely for his morning rides, but it helped.
Today, however, it wasn’t doing the trick. There was too much at stake for the gardens to soothe him. Hehadto find a way to improve the estate’s income—his tenants and servants depended on him. But Uncle Armie’s overspending had sunk Armitage Hall and its surrounding properties in a well so deep, Sheridan began to fear he would never be able to dig it out.
Someone at the entrance to his study cleared his throat. Sheridan looked up to see his father’s man of affairs standing in the doorway.
“You sent for me, Your Grace?” William Bonham said.
“Bonham! Good, you’re here. Come in, come in. I have something to tell you.”
Bonham entered the room warily. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Not any worse than what’s been going on for the past decade or so.”
“That’s good, I suppose,” Bonham said with a look of profound distress.
At least the man recognized the gravity of the situation. Sheridan stood up behind his massive desk. Like so many of the furnishings for both Armitage Hall in Lincolnshire and Armitage House here in London, it was unnecessarily extravagant and ornate. When Sheridan had the chance, he meant to refurbish the place and replace the rococo-style pieces with furniture that had clean lines and simple designs. But that would have to come much later, once he’d reversed the downward spiral of the dukedom’s holdings.
He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Please sit. I’m a bit too restless to sit myself.” After Bonham had taken a seat, Sheridan added, “I’ve come to a decision.” He swallowed the resentment he felt whenever he thought of what he was about to do. “You were right. I must sell the best of the mounts in Uncle Armie’s—my—stables. The sale will provide the estate with much-needed funds for the long-overdue renovations on the tenant cottages.”
Sheridan paced behind the desk. “And we won’t need so many mounts for riding anymore anyway.” A pang hit his chest that he ignored. “Though I still say we should keep a few of the Thoroughbreds. The stud fees and prize money they bring in practically pays for their upkeep.” Even if they didn’t make great saddle horses.
“That’s a wise course of action, Duke,” Bonham said. “I know your uncle amassed a truly spectacular display of horseflesh, but having such a large stable isn’t practical.”
“I agree, much as it pains me to admit it.” He dragged in a heavy breath. “So you’ll arrange for the auction at Tattersall’s?”
“Of course. But it will take a few weeks, if that meets with your approval.”
“I expected as much.” Sheridan picked up a long sheet of paper from the desk and walked over to hand it to Bonham. “I’ve made a list of which horses are to be sold. I thought we should do two auctions, starting with the ones here in London and then later selling the ones in the country.”
“If you wish. Although I still suggest—”
“That they all be sold in one big auction. I know. I remember what you said.” He braced one hip against the desk. “But I’ve spoken to other sporting gentlemen at Father’s club, and they say it can be just as efficient, maybe even more so, if the auctions are done separately.”
“They’re your horses, Your Grace, so of course you should handle the sales any way you see fit.”
