Page 47 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Thirteen

“Thank you formeeting with me, Mr. Enfield.” Sophie smiled as she greeted Ravenscroft Manor’s estate steward at the door of the drawing room she’d turned into her personal study three days ago, the morning after the sleigh ride.

Shay had no objections to her taking a more active role in the dukedom, or so he’d said, so that was exactly what she planned to do. And to do that, she needed a place to work. Shay certainly couldn’t object to her taking this one since the room had sat unused for two decades.

According to Mrs. Sexton, the yellow room with its delicate floral wallpaper and plasterwork that mimicked vines entwining around the ceiling, windows, and doorways had been the last duchess’s favorite. With its tall arched windows, French doors leading out to the terrace, and a sweeping view of the rear gardens, Sophie easily understood why, just as she understood why the family had stopped using it once she had left.

But now Sophie had claimed it as hers, without bothering to ask Shay’s permission, to turn it into a place where she could meet with tenants, staff, and others, complete with cabinets for storing papers and books. She’d even had the footmen move down an elegant desk in the Rococo style, painted cream with delicate swirls accentuated with gilding, from one of the guest bedrooms, and she’d positioned it in front of the row of windowsso she could face the grand views while she worked. The space was everything she needed to take a larger role in running the dukedom. Or at least her small corner of it, anyway. And that small corner included the estate’s gardens, orchards, and fallow fields.

Which was why she had asked the estate steward to meet with her.

She held out her hand to him. “I appreciate your time.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” He sketched a shallow bow over her hand. “I have to admit that I was surprised to hear you wanted to meet with me.”

“Why is that?” She gestured him toward the cream-colored silk brocade settee and two chairs she’d commandeered from the morning room to create a conversation area in front of the fireplace.

He waited for her to sit, then took a chair across the low tea table from her. “Because happenings at the house aren’t part of my position’s purview.” He gave her a condescending chuckle. “Fashion and functions are best left to the ladies, I always say.”

Sophie paused as she poured a cup of tea. Had he justlaughedat her? My! That was not a good start to this conversation.

She passed the cup and saucer to him. “Then you’ll be relieved to know that our meeting has nothing to do with the house.”

“Oh?”

“It concerns the estate gardens, actually, and a fallow field on the southern edge of the village.” She poured herself a cup and added a splash of milk. “I have plans to renovate all the gardens, greenhouses, and orchards, as well as make that fallow field useful again.”

He smiled, taking a sip of tea. “That’s quite ambitious, ma’am.”

Andthatwas quite patronizing. Perhaps, though, the man simply feared a second-coming of Capability Brown and a decade’s upheaval in the park. She certainly didn’t blame him. “Nothing as grand as Stowe or Stourhead, I assure you. No moving of earth or rivers required.” She took a sip of tea and enjoyed the way it warmed her throat. “At most, some fencing and perhaps two new entrance gates on the south end of the estate so the villagers can come and go as they’d like.”

He set down his tea as if afraid he would spill it. “New entrances? But that’s…that’s…” He sputtered like a boiling kettle as he failed to find the words.

“It’s letting the villagers know how important they are to the house and helping them a bit more with their day-to-day lives,” she finished.

The steward seemed suddenly horrified, as if he imagined villagers descending like locusts on the manor house. “Your Grace, that’s simply not done.” He pulled in a deep breath and said with exaggerated calmness, as if explaining a complicated concept to a small child, “Villagers and tenants should be givenlessaccess to the home park, not more. Why, they’ll soon believe they have a right to all its resources!”

“But they do,” she corrected gently. “Or at least, all the resources they need to live better lives.”

His mouth fell open, only to snap shut as he belatedly scrambled to his feet as she rose and crossed to her desk. She picked up a leather portfolio which held her plans.

“Here is the list of changes I would like to make.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “I’ve estimated that only a small crew of workers should be needed to carry them out. I know that spring is a very busy time on estates, and that’s why I’m hoping we can start right away this winter, at least with buying the materials so we’ll have them at hand when we’re ready to start the work.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he scanned her list.

“I want to make up for years of neglect in the park and for far longer than that with the villagers and tenants.”

She returned to her place on the settee and picked up her tea. She hid her smile against the rim of her cup as the stunned steward sank back onto his chair, his eyes still glued to the paper.

“So let me explain my plans, Mr. Enfield.”

As she enjoyed her tea, she informed him of what she’d decided for the neglected gardens and their empty greenhouses, the fruit orchards that produced bushels more than the manor house could ever use each year, and the field near the village that seemed to have no productive purpose whatsoever. The changes would cost very little but reap much reward for those people who needed help the most.

Mr. Enfield sat there, uncomfortably tense. He didn’t interrupt her, which pleased her, but he didn’t ask any questions either, which completely puzzled her. After all, the changes she wanted to make would have ramifications for the rest of the park and everyone who worked here, and tremendous benefits for those who depended upon the estate for their livelihoods.

She was resolved to make that happen. In the few days since meeting the tenants and villagers, she had become determined to take on a bigger role as Duchess of Malvern. So she would start with what she knew best—domestic agriculture. She’d driven the gardeners at her father’s estate half-mad with her love of gardening, from delicate exotic plants in the greenhouse to herbs in the kitchen garden. But she had a talent for it, and the grounds had thrived beneath her management. She wanted to do the same here at Ravenscroft and also help the villagers and tenants in the process.

So she would start with the gardens.