Free Quick, Amanda by Ravished

Gideon closed the ledger, aware of the steward's
    air of instant relief. "Very neatly kept accounts. Excellent job."
    "Thank you, sir." Crane nervously ran a hand over his balding head. He appeared to relax somewhat in
    his chair. His bright birdlike eyes darted between the ledger and Gideon's scarred jaw. "I do my best, my
    lord. I only wish you had given us some notice of your arrival so that we could all have been better
    prepared."
    Gideon was well aware that the household had been thrown into chaos by his unexpected appearance.
    The housekeeper was frantically hiring staff from the village to help her get Blackthorne Hall in order.
    Out in the hall Gideon could hear people scurrying up and down the stairs. Provisions were being
    ordered. Dust covers were being yanked off furniture that had not been used in years. The smell of
    freshly applied polish seeped into the library.
    There was not much that could be done on short notice for the gardens. Bleak and windswept, they
    reflected the neglect they had received under Crane's stewardship. His mother had always loved her
    gardens at Blackthorne Hall, Gideon reflected.
    "My butler, Owl, who accompanies me everywhere, will be arriving this afternoon. He will take charge
    of the staff." Gideon watched Crane's eyes flit nervously to his scar. Few people could manage to politely
    ignore Gideon's ravaged face until they had gotten accustomed to the sight. Many people never got used
    to it.
    Deirdre, for example, had found Gideon's face repulsive. She was not the only one. How unfortunate,
    people often said, that the earl's second son had not been as handsome and refined as the first.
    Everyone had felt extremely sorry for the Earl of Hardcastle when he had lost his firstborn son and found
    himself obliged to make due with a less than satisfactory heir. Gideon privately doubted that any man
    could have followed successfully in Randal's footsteps.
    Randal had been the ideal son and heir, all any parent could wish for.
    Just ask anyone.
    Randal had been ten years older than Gideon, their parents' only child for years. His mother had doted
    on him and the earl had been proud of the handsome, cultivated, athletic, honorable young man who
    would be the next Earl of Hardcastle.
    Randal had been groomed for the earldom from the cradle and he had met everyone's expectations. He
    had thrived in his role. His friends were legion, his athletic prowess respected, his honor unquestioned.
    He had even been a fairly decent older brother, Gideon reflected. Not that he and Randal had been very
    close. The difference in their ages had resulted in a relationship between them that had resembled that of
    an uncle and a nephew.
    Gideon had struggled to imitate his brother for years until he had finally realized it was impossible to
    copy Randal's natural style and flair. If Randal had lived, Gideon would no doubt have managed several
    of the Hardcastle estates for him. Randal had preferred life in Town to the work of overseeing his family
    lands.
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    Gideon had grieved when his brother had died. Not that anyone had noticed. Everyone had been too
    busy consoling his parents, who were inconsolable. Especially his mother. Many had feared the Countess
    of Hardcastle would never recover from her melancholy. And the earl had made it clear that his remaining
    heir could never compare to the one he had lost.
    Crane cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but will you be staying in the vicinity for more than
    a few days? The housekeeper is concerned about laying in a proper amount of provisions and hiring
    sufficient staff, you see."
    Gideon leaned back in his chair. He knew very well why Crane was asking about the length of his
    employer's stay. The steward was undoubtedly wondering if he should postpone a few plans of his own.
    Gideon did not know yet if Crane was involved with the thieves, as Harriet suspected, but he was