“You won’t be smiling after I tell you how things are.”
Cillian sighed, sank onto the chair, and rubbed his chin. The lack of stubble surprised him momentarily until he recalled he’d made sure to shave this morning. His valet offered but he’d be damned if he forced someone to try to run a blade over his craggy face. Though the worst of the scarring was hidden by his eye patch, the thin line that crawled down his jawline made shaving a laborious process.
If he had his way, beards would be in fashion and he’d give up shaving entirely, however, he didn’t think his new wife would appreciate a man who was not only fifteen years her senior, lacking an eye, and pretty much any refinement but was also covered in facial hair too.
“Tell me the worst of it.”
“Your cousin had debts all over London. Not to mention here in town and several other cities including Nottingham and York. I have arranged to clear the worst and talked a few into allowing us to make payments on a monthly basis.”
And this was why he’d hired Shah without a second thought when he’d realized the state of things at Charington. Who needed an accountant when he had Shah who, despite the limp and salt and pepper hair, could seem to charm even the most cantankerous of merchants.
Cillian witnessed the second-lieutenant’s charm in person during their time at Hanover, and though he was not formally educated, he’d picked up enough German to flirt with every pretty village girl they came across.
Unfortunately, his leg injury prevented the man from much these days. If it was up to the good people of England, the man would be put out to pasture, probably left jobless and eventually in debtor’s prison.
How ironic it was that the man had about the quickest mind of anyone he’d met and would help Cillian out of his own debts.
“Of course, the death taxes have not helped and there is quite the list of maintenance that needs doing on the house.” Shah shoved a carefully written list over the desk.
Cillian leaned forward and glanced it over, lifting his brows. “I thought the house was in good condition.”
“For the most part, it isn’t too bad, but there are many jobs that need doing before things get worse and cost you more.” Shah jabbed an ink-stained finger midway down the list. “The roofing over the men’s quarters is most urgent, I believe. I took a look myself and you can see the ingress of water in the last servant’s room.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to get them on my side either if I address that I suppose.”
“Might take more than that, I’m afraid.”
Cillian sighed. He could lavish them all with higher wages and comfortable furnishings for the servant’s quarters and they’d probably all still hate him. His cousin Albert was no kindly country gent, but he left them be and apparently none of them liked this interloper who should never have inherited a title in the first place coming in and meddling with things.
Alas, things needed meddling with or this whole estate would crumble and where would that leave them? Try explaining that to them, though.
“How are things with the servants?”
Shah chuckled. “Oh they hate me.”
“Perhaps I should have a word with the butler.”
A crooked grin appeared on the lieutenant’s face. “I’ll win them over, you’ll see.” His smile widened. “Do not doubt me, Cillian. I can handle this.”
“Why else do you think I put you in charge?”
“And we’ll gain control of the finances so long as you can persuade your investors not to run away.”
“Easier said than done with this face.”
“Well, this face has managed to do some charming and I’m no oil painting. I have no doubt you’ll win these hoity toity men over to your side.” His smile stuttered and he stilled. “Though I did hear some rumors from the servants that might not aid matters much. What do you know of—”
Cillian held up a hand, ignoring the jolt of his heart. Rumors followed him wherever he went. He only hoped these ones weren’t the worst of them. “I do not want to hear it.”
Shah shrugged. “I’d wager having that pretty wife of yours on your arm will not hurt much. You should take her to the negotiations. Have her flutter her lashes a little.”
Cillian scowled. He knew little of his wife, but Ivy was more than a pretty face, of that he was certain. “Are all stewards so familiar with their masters?”
Shah chuckled and lounged back in his chair, lacing his hands over his generous belly. “I wouldn’t know. Never been one before!”
“And I’ve never been a viscount before,” Cillian said dryly. “It’s going to be an interesting time of it to be sure.”
Chapter Six