Free What a Lady Demands by Ashlyn Macnamara

the times she’d spent here as a guest and dragged up a recollection of the giggling upstairs maid who used to come in to light the fires in the morning, of a gawky groom who used to blush every time he had to assist her onto a horse. Gone, all of them. Dismissed for gossip, if there was any substance to Mrs. Carstairs’s hints.
    No one’s position is safe here. Not even mine. Especially not mine.
    One by one, each servant gave a detailed report of his activities. The head gardener reported all the flower beds were weeded and mulched, and tomorrow he planned on trimming the hedges along the front drive. Regan had made certain all the tack was polished and noted that one of the carriage horses had thrown a shoe.
    Mrs. Carstairs was interviewing candidates to replace a downstairs maid while a new upstairs maid was settling into her duties. “Grant shows a tremendous desire to please, my lord.”
    “Make certain she understands all my expectations, and she should not fail.” During all this reporting, the food on Lindenhurst’s plate disappeared. Had he no heart at all?
    But even as she asked herself the question, her mind leapt back to his vast expanse of a dining room, the table large enough to seat any respectable
ton
gathering—and he had no one to share it with. Could the echoing solitude of that cavern have driven him to eating before his staff, so he wouldn’t have to dine alone?
    “Miss Sanford,” he said suddenly.
    She nearly jumped. “Yes, my lord?”
    “Well?”
    Good Lord, did he expect her to give him a report, as well? “Your pardon, my lord.” She nearly curtseyed, but that felt rather like overdoing things. “No one informed me I’d be required to report to you.”
    He laid his fork aside and ran his serviette over his lips. “And you couldn’t surmise as much as you listened to the others go before you?”
    “Why, yes, I suppose I might have, but…Forgive me, I was just so surprised. I’m quite certain my governess never had to do such a thing for my father, and I find myself unprepared.”
    “My years in the army taught me the value of well-informed officers. I’ve extended the practice to my civilian life.”
    “It won’t happen again,” she added for good measure. She had no idea what else to say.
    “See that it doesn’t. And now, would you kindly inform me as to how you spent your day with the boy?”
    The boy
again. She pressed her lips together. “Jeremy and I attempted to engage in a constitutional, and we got to know each other somewhat. As you know, I might add, since you came across us on the grounds. I plan to continue the practice with your permission.” She paused, half expecting him to mount a protest, but he gave a curt nod, all the reply she needed. His expression was sufficient to remind her of his strictures.
    “Naturally, we will remain on those areas of the grounds that meet your approval,” she went on. “I have also noted Jeremy’s avid interest to all things military, and he seems adept at picking up notions of military strategy. I believe it might be a good idea to encourage him along that path.”
    While she spoke, Lindenhurst had used a chunk of bread to sop up the sauce in his plate, but he let the crust drop with a moist
thump.
“No.”
    Just one word, simple and final, and clearly Lindenhurst thought it sufficient to put an end to the conversation. “But if it interests him, perhaps I could take advantage to encourage him to learn to read and write and calculate, which is what you require of me.”
    “No. He has no business believing he can make a career in the military.”
    The glare he’d turned on her might have been sufficient to cow any number of his servants, but she refused to let him intimidate her. Perhaps arguing with him wasn’t the best strategy, but something inside her prodded her to rebel. “He wouldn’t have to believe you’d buy him a commission, but—”
    He turned the full force of his scowl on her. “Miss Sanford, do you