Page 43 of The Scarred Lyon

“See that the coffin remains closed,” Duncan murmured. “You can imagine why.”

“I will see to it, Your Grace.”

More loudly, Duncan said, “Patrick McGloin is now the steward of the Allenby dukedom, effective immediately. Turner, between you and Mr. McGloin, see that the casket is taken to the chapel and then arrange for Reverend Joudrey to be here tomorrow afternoon to oversee the funeral and burial.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

“The duchess and I are heartily sorry for your loss—our loss, as well,” Duncan said to the staff. “Briggs was a good man who did not deserve to have his life taken so soon. His bravery will not be forgotten.” Duncan motioned to Mr. McGloin. “We will need gravediggers,” he said in a low voice, audible only to Augusta. “Join us for dinner tomorrow night. You will leave for Essex the next day.”

McGloin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Dinner?”

“You are no longer a servant, Patrick. It is perfectly proper for a steward to have dinner with the family. Even if it weren’t, you are my friend. My brother. You are part of this family. Also, you will take over the gatehouse.”

Mr. McGloin chuckled. “Dinner and my own residence. Imagine.”

“You will be much more than a glorified rent collector. We will work side by side to run this estate, inside and out. I will be involved in the day-to-day management of this dukedom. I’ve put off my responsibility long enough.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Then I shall get to work at once. Turner! With me!”

As the servants dispersed, Duncan escorted her into a parlor, and a woman ran across the room and threw herself at Duncan.

“I was so worried, you are days late! Oh, heavens! You’re injured!” She stepped back.

“Laura, this is Augusta, my wife. Augusta, my stepmother, Laura.”

Augusta curtsied as did Laura. Then Laura took her hands and squeezed them warmly. “Welcome to Bamford Park.”

“Thank you,” Augusta smiled warmly.

“I take it you were caught in a storm?” Laura asked, looking back and forth between them.

“My dear, we have quite the tale to tell you,” Duncan sighed.

“Frederick, bring a tea tray if you please,” Laura said to the footman standing by the door. The young man bowed and exited. “Well, here I am still acting the duchess,” Laura laughed as they took their seats.

“Please do,” Augusta replied. “I have to get settled and learn the doings of the house and the servants’ names. I do not remember everyone; the introductions were over before they began.”

“Then I shall endeavor to assist in any way I can,” Laura said. “I remember when I first came here. It was quite overwhelming. Honestly, it still is at times. I’ve already instructed Mrs. Reynolds—our housekeeper—to prepare the dower house for me.”

“Do you want to move there?” Duncan asked. “Because I would prefer you keep your suite of rooms here in the main house. Augusta will need your assistance for a while. Also, her son and companion will be here in a matter of days.”

“You have a son? How wonderful!” Laura cried happily.

“Oh, do stay,” Augusta said. And she meant it. Already, she liked Laura. “I would value your help.” She turned to Duncan. “Is the dower house larger than the gatehouse?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then allow Mr. McGloin to live in the larger residence. When you hire a head gamekeeper, he can have the gatehouse.”

Duncan smiled, his look admiring. “Already thinking as a duchess. I will see it done.”

“McGloin?” Laura asked.

“I made him steward of the dukedom,” Duncan replied.

“Well done, and well deserved. I agree with Augusta. Give him the dower house. Mr. McGloin may marry someday. He should live nearer the manor, not out in the woods. Ah, here’s the tea. Thank you, Frederick. We’ll ring if we need anything else. Will you pour, my dear?”

Augusta sat forward. It had been a long time since she presided over a tea tray.