Page 10 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

“She’d just learned one of her students had been crushed in a mining incident.

She was distraught.” His unspoken accusation that Lucius hadn’t been there rankled and prickled him with more than a little culpability.

“We’ve spent the last few years attempting to build a trust among the Cornish people your father and grandfather have long since neglected,” he accused him mildly.

It was a poison-tipped spear that struck at Lucius’s guilt. He straightened from the wall, his hands squeezed into fists. He set them at his lower back. “You overstep yourself, Mr. Ashcroft,” he said softly. “I could call you out over such a statement.”

“Don’t be daft,” Ashcroft said. “One of us would die and the other would hang. At the least, be transported.”

“Your conduct with my wife is unacceptable.” he bit out. The gall of this… this lesser was infuriating.

Ashcroft pushed his spectacles farther up on his nose, leaned forward in his chair, and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him.

“ My conduct…” Seemingly reluctantly, he added, “my lord?” A glint of annoyance flashed in dark-green eyes.

“I was merely assisting Lady Pender in a moment of distress. Surely, you would not fault me for offering comfort after such a harrowing event.”

Heat infused Lucius’s face. The man was taunting him. “It’s not the assistance I question, but the manner in which it was given. Taking… unnecessary… liberties is what I object to.”

A tic next to Ashcroft’s mouth was the only indication Lucius had breached the man’s calm facade. “Liberties…” Again, that slight hesitation… “my lord?”

Lucius thought Ashcroft might choke on the address and Lucius took great satisfaction in the notion.

“I hardly think helping Lady Pender to her feet constitutes a liberty,” he said blandly, clearly recovering his verve. “Your wife was in shock. Not to mention, exhausted from carrying that poor child from the mine. Someone had to act, and I was there.”

Lucius unclasped his hands, leaned forward, and planted them on the edge of the desk.

Pure venom snaked his veins, releasing through a voice he hardly recognized as his own.

“From what I understand, you’ve availed yourself of a great deal since you arrived at Perlsea Keep.

I, however, question whether your intentions are as noble as you are attempting to claim. ”

He met Lucius’s gaze without flinching. “My only intention, sir , is to serve this estate and its people, most importantly Lady Pender.” Ashcroft unclasped his hands and placed them on the arms of his chair and eyed Lucius with a hooded gaze reminiscent of one of Lucius’s father’s cronies he’d encountered at White’s.

“I fear I cannot help your feelings of inferiority.” He lifted a shoulder as if the matter had been settled.

“If that makes you uncomfortable, perhaps you should consider the fact that you’ve been absent for so long, leaving a woman to face such challenges on her own. ”

The delivery of his jab hit again with that vicious prick of the poisoned-tipped point.

An absence for three years was inexcusable, but the scoundrel had overstepped.

Lucius jerked straight, his hand knocking one of the piles on the desk askew.

He caught up one of the ledgers before it could hit the floor.

“Mind your place, Ashcroft. You are steward here, not a confidant or protector to Lady Pender.”

Behind the desk, Ashcroft came to his feet.

His demeanor remained calm, but defiance glinted in his sharpened eyes.

“You, my lord , are the Earl of Pender. Perhaps it would serve us both well to remember our roles and focus on what truly matters—the welfare of this estate and its people. Lady Pender requires support, not suspicion, and certainly not conflict.”

Lucius eyed him, his suspicions not relieved by Ashcroft’s words. “My wife and my property are none of your concern. I have every right to turn you out.”

“But?”

“But I shall refrain for the time being. Rest assured, I shall be keeping a close eye on you. Make no mistake—any impropriety or misstep, and you will answer for it. At the end of my pistol.”

Ashcroft gave a slight bow, though Lucius detected the trace of steel in his gaze. “As you wish, my lord. I have nothing to hide.”

The fact that he hadn’t emphasized, or mocked, Lucius’s address for the first time in this little tête-à-tête set his teeth on edge.

Oh, yes. The man’s reasons for being in Cornwall ran deep. And Lucius would learn the truth of the matter.

He turned sharply on his heel to leave, his mind a tumult of emotions—fury, and jealousy, of all things, and an unshakable sense of unease.

Ashcroft’s calmness irked. His measured responses only deepened Lucius’s suspicions.

They also showed a glaring difference between them.

And Lucius did not like the end of the stick he’d landed on.

Nor was he comfortable with the man’s assertions that he was only there to tend the estate and assist Lucius’s own wife.

A deepened resolve stole through him, making him more determined than ever to uncover the truth behind the man’s presence at Perlsea Keep.

He reached for the door and realized he still held the ledger. He glanced down at the neat hand, detailing the estate’s finances and operations. But it appeared… disorganized—something that immediately struck Lucius as odd. He paused, then slowly turned back to Ashcroft.

“These ledgers,” he said, waving the one book he held. “I assume they contain the most recent accounts for the estate?”

Ashcroft nodded, but Lucius detected a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Yes. I’ve been working to bring the records up to date. The previous stewards left much to be desired in terms of accuracy.”

Easily confirmable with a note to Uncle Sander.

Lucius quickly looked over the entries, his brow furrowing. The discrepancies nearly jumped off the page. Figures that didn’t quite add up, expenses that seemed inflated, and revenues that appeared suspiciously low. His pulse accelerated, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.

“Interesting,” he murmured. He set that book down and picked up another. “There seem to be several… anomalies here. Would you care to explain?”

For the first time since entering the steward’s office, Ashcroft’s composure wavered, just slightly. He quickly rallied. “As I mentioned, the records were in disarray when I took over—”

“Three years ago.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been working diligently to correct the errors, but it’s a slow process. As I’m sure you can imagine.”

Lucius closed the ledger with a decisive snap. “A slow process, indeed. One that could easily be mistaken for incompetence—or worse.”

Ashcroft stiffened and a flash of something darker crossed his face. It was gone before Lucius could blink. “I assure you, my lord , any discrepancies are purely the result of poor bookkeeping by my predecessors. I intend to have everything in order soon.”

Lucius let the silence stretch between them.

More than anything, he wanted to rattle Ashcroft, see if the man revealed more under pressure.

He was sadly disappointed. “I expect a full and thorough report on these discrepancies by the end of the week,” Lucius finally said, tossing the ledger atop the disorganized piles.

“And if I find that these errors are anything more than simple mistakes, well, that is just one more thing you have to answer for.”

Ashcroft inclined his head, though his dark-green eyes, nearly black, could have iced the Sahara. “Of course, my lord . You’ll have the report as requested.”

Somehow that last mocking address reassured Lucius. He shot the man a last hard look, then left.

He pounded up the stairs to the main level, his mind racing. The glaring errors only confirmed his suspicions—Ashcroft was hiding something. But what was it and why?

Lucius would uncover the truth, and he knew the first place to start.

He took the grand stairs to the family level and stormed to his wife’s chamber, ignoring the frisson of anticipation that rippled over his skin.

He tapped once, lightly, not expecting an answer—he didn’t receive one—and he flung the door back, startling a young woman sitting on a cushioned bench carved out for a nook in the window.

She clutched a worn tome to her chest. “Where is your mistress?”

She flinched beneath his bark and quickly came to her feet. Large brown eyes blinked back at him as if she hadn’t understood the question.

“Speak up, child. Does she know you spend your time lolling about reading while she is away?”

Despite her modest appearance, an inner spark lit her eyes. She looked at the book she held then met his gaze squarely. “Certainly, sir. She taught me to read and gave me the book ’erself. Said I should take every oppor… opportu…”

“Opportunity?”

“Aye. Opportunity—” She repeated the word slowly as if savoring it, storing it to memory. “Lest I forget what I learnt.”

“I, er, see.” Apparently the school his wife had started began in her own sitting chamber.

Her cheeks flushed with determination, her eyes glinted with indignation, and Lucius realized it wasn’t just a school in the village that his countess had established—it was a cause, one she had brought into the very heart of her daily life.

Such effort that didn’t appear for show or public accolades; it was a private, genuine conviction.

His chest tightened with more guilt, yet lined with reluctant admiration.

It was a selflessness he hadn’t expected and knocked him off balance.

How had he so profoundly misjudged her? He cleared his throat.

“My apologies for interrupting your studies then. But I am looking for my wife.”

“Yer wife,” she breathed. “Ye’re the earl… Ye don’ look much like a shadow t’ me,” she said, obviously gaining more confidence as she spoke.

“Do you know where—shadow?” The term confused him. He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Two red flags flared high on her cheeks, but her slight frame straightened to her modest height. The light from the window touched her, showing just how young she was. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen. “Um, I, um…”

Resigned to his fate, he might as well know the whole of it. The people of this community belonged to him. “Just spit it out. I am just a man as you can see, not a figment of your imagination.”

A grin split her face making her look younger than her years, if that was possible. “They referred to you as the, er, Shadow of Pender.”

“The shadow. Hmm. I take it there are more references?”

The red grew more pronounced, and she dropped her eyes. “The Absent Lord.”

Lucius let out a long sigh then shoved his fingers through his hair. “I see I’ve much to make up for.”

Her eyes snapped to his and what he saw there banded his chest with iron, stealing his breath… hope ? “So, you’re staying?”

“We shall see,” he relented. “Perhaps you can inform your mistress that I wish to speak with her.”

“Oh, aye. O’ course. But she’s not ’ere.”

He frowned. “Where might she be?”

“She took a basket to the Trenwiths.”

“Alone?”

She gave him one of those impish grins. “This is Cornwall, sir, not London.”

Right . “Thank you, er…”

“Agnes. Agnes Tremayne. She’s wearing her brown riding habit.”

“Riding habit? In this weather?” Outrage started to take hold.

“Oh, no, milord. The footman, Bartlett, ’e accompanied ’er.”

Lucius glanced at the window where the rain still lashed the windows. “That carriage is not made for—” Good God, she could be stranded with a broken axel, or worse, a broken neck. He didn’t even finish his sentence, just tore out of her chamber. “Verity! My greatcoat.”

The portly butler appeared, and Lucius snatched it from him and took off out the huge old door and ran for the stables.

“I require my horse. What is your name, sir?”

“Quill Prys, yer lordship.”

“Are you familiar with the Trenwiths, Prys?”

“Aye.”

“I require their direction.”

“That I can ’elp with, milord. Take the road south. Go past St. Petroc till ye cross the river. Turn on the old minin’ path. It runs alongside the mines. Trenwiths’ cottage is one o’ the ’omes afore the road bends t’ the ’ills. Can’t miss it.”

One could hope . It took Prys less than ten minutes to bring Lucius’s horse around and with a short wave, he was off.

The directions turned out to be quite specific. He found the old mining path easy enough until he came to the fork…