Page 11 of The Scarred Lyon

“Hiring and firing workers, settling tenant disputes, and overseeing harvests and livestock, such as they are. I intend to expand in that area. There is also the collection of rents and the maintenance of the dukedom’s financial records. It is a highly trusted and esteemed position. You are perfect for the job.”

McGloin rubbed his chin. “It will mean a lot of travel between London and Bamford Park.”

Duncan sat in the wingchair as McGloin poured scotch for them. The man handed Duncan a glass, then sat across from him.

“Patrick, there is no one I trust more.”

“Thank you, Duncan. I accept. You will need a new valet.”

“Hiring workers is your first new duty. We will wait until we return to Bamford Park to make the changes official. First, I need to find a malleable bishop to grant me a special license. Special licenses are not easy to obtain. I want to be married within the next ten days and on our way to Bamford Park.”

Patrick took a sip of his scotch. “Is the little boyo with the widow?”

“No, he’s with his nurse in Otham, Kent. We will need to send carriages to collect them and their belongings. There. Another duty for you when we reach home.” Duncan smiled as he took a drink.

“I have the feeling I will be earning that substantial salary.”

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes as the fire crackled in the hearth. “You will never guess who I saw at the Lyon’s Den, working as a door greeter a few nights a week. Sergeant Finnian Mannix.”

Patrick snorted. “There’s a name I never expected to hear again.”

“I gave him my card and told him to get in touch. He works with disabled war veterans, between the club and any shifts he can secure on the docks. I agreed to make a donation.”

Patrick raised his glass. “Good on him and all. And you, as well, for the donation.”

“I also handed my card to a legless corporal begging on the streets.”

Patrick choked on the mouthful of scotch he had taken. “Bloody hell. Why?”

“I promised him a job.”

Patrick stared at him incredulously. “No offense to the unfortunate bloke, but what work can a legless man do in a manor house?”

“Anything that requires sitting in a chair. He still has his knees. Polishing silver, for example—”

“That is a footman’s job and takes only an afternoon. Then what?”

Duncan grew annoyed. It was clear he hadn’t thought this through. “Peeling vegetables, wiping down the leather in the stables, and cleaning the fireplaces… There are all kinds of possible duties.”

“Those responsibilities are handled by other servants. I admire your compassion, but this man’s disability will place a burden on the existing staff. How will this man get around? Will you employ people to carry his chair? Who will assist him in getting in and out of that chair? Going to bed? His ablutions?”

Duncan’s eyebrows furrowed. “I would imagine he can already manage most activities, personal and otherwise. There are crutches, oh, devil take it!” he barked crossly. “Look, the man may not even show up here a month from now. But in case he does, I want you here. I am determined to assist Corporal Samuel Barlow in whatever way possible.”

Patrick sighed. “You cannot hire every down-on-his-luck veteran you encounter.”

“I hired you, didn’t I?” Duncan snapped.

Patrick laughed. “Aye, you did at that. Very well, I will make certain I’m here in thirty days’ time. Perhaps I will contact Mannix. He might have suggestions on how we can accommodate Barlow. I suppose Mannix will welcome the extra work.”

Duncan’s expression softened. “There. Already thinking like a steward of a dukedom. See it done. Inform the staff here at Hyde Park.”

“Would you like me to look into Mrs. Cheevers’s background?”

It would be prudent to do so, but there was no time, and he had promised to keep her secrets. When all was said and done, Duncan believed her. Still—

“I’ve heard that the Earl of Southen recently passed away. Could you investigate the details and gather any information about his background, and his successor? I will need to handle matters with the new earl when I attend Parliament in the spring.”

“I’ll get on it tomorrow while you find a bishop.”