The carriage had been rolling for several minutes, and we were only moments from the new manor when Frederick Clayton, the elderly servant, spoke with a gentle smile.
"My lord, in accordance with your instructions from last year, I have sold the previous residence in St. James and acquired this one in Carlton House Terrace."
My advisor gave a quick shrug of his shoulders.
"I still don't understand why we needed to change the location at all. Wasn't St. James far superior, my lord?"
I was gazing out at the street—the people strolling along the pavements, the carriages passing in the opposite direction—and paid little heed to his words.
He persisted.
"My lord… what was wrong with St. James that you ordered the manor there sold last year?"
I snapped back to myself, pulling my eyes from the window. A flicker of irritation rose in me.
I cast a sharp glance at my advisor and said,
"Must I justify every decision I make to you?"
He shifted his gaze left and right, suddenly uncomfortable.
"No, no… I merely wished to ask a question!"
I exhaled through my mouth, waved my fingers dismissively over my lap, and replied,
"Very well. The manor in St. James was old—rotting, in fact—and had no connection to the city gas network. It either required complete renovation or sale. I chose sale. Rebuilding a residence of that size would have demanded far too much capital."
My advisor nodded slowly.
"I see."
But Frederick Clayton merely smiled and added,
"In any case, that manor had belonged to the Montagu family since the era of George III. It had served its purpose long enough."
My advisor turned to him in surprise, while I shot the old servant a brief, piercing sidelong glance.
The truth was, even I hadn't known that.
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At last, the carriage halted.
The door was opened by a personal guard. The two guards at the entrance stepped back, resumed their positions, and bowed their heads.
I descended calmly.
The new manor's exterior was far more striking than the old one's—perhaps its only flaw was the broad flight of steps leading upward, with no surrounding fence or wall for privacy.
But as long as I had my personal guard, such concerns were trivial.
My advisor and Frederick followed a few moments later, taking positions just behind me.
I placed my right foot on the first step. The guards bowed again in respect.
I began ascending slowly, each step measured and deliberate.
At the top landing, the guards lined the left and right. The Security Advisor stood directly before the entrance.
All the private guards lowered their heads in salute, but the Security Advisor placed his right hand over his chest, inclined his head, and said,
"Welcome home to your manor, my lord…"
I closed my eyes briefly and dipped my head in subtle acknowledgment.
In the past year, I had learned that this restrained gesture was how a duke expressed satisfaction—not with loud laughter or embraces.
I walked toward the Security Advisor, raising my hand slightly and giving a small wave—signaling the guards to withdraw.
They retreated a few quiet steps, turned their backs, and dispersed.
When I reached him, I paused and said softly,
"Come later to give your report."
Since both Frederick and my advisor stood farther back, I was certain they could not hear. Reassured, I pushed open the manor doors myself.
What I saw inside astonished me even more.
Every servant—male servants in front, female behind—stood in perfect ranks.
The Housekeeper, who oversaw the female staff, stood foremost.
I wondered momentarily where the Head Butler was, then remembered: Frederick Clayton himself held that role.
All the servants bowed in unison and declared,
"Welcome home, my lord!"
Their voices echoed through the vast hall—perhaps even beyond.
I slipped my hands into the pockets of my long, dark navy coat and replied,
"Thank you all… You may now return to your duties."
They raised their heads gracefully and dispersed.
My advisor, Frederick, and the Security Advisor stood a respectful distance behind me, gesturing toward the interior.
I stepped across the grand threshold and finally entered the manor.
Sunlight poured in, rendering the chandeliers unnecessary.
Frederick accompanied me toward the staircase, while the Security Advisor departed outside and my advisor headed down a first-floor corridor.
Frederick and I climbed the stairs together.
This manor felt entirely different.
At the top was a long central hallway flanked by the two grand libraries.
Corridors branched left and right on the second floor.
At the far end of each, staircases led to the third floor—where my chambers were located, as Frederick explained.
We walked along the second-floor corridor. Numerous male and female servants passed us, bowing their heads as they went.
When we reached the staircase at the end of the right corridor, we ascended to the third floor.
The duke's private floor—mostly served by male staff, according to Frederick.
At last, we arrived at the duke's bedroom.
I glanced at the window opposite the door.
As I approached and gazed out, the view revealed the street below and neighboring manors.
Then my eyes caught a figure.
A man in a long grey coat with a high collar that concealed much of his face, a grey top hat, and indistinct features otherwise.
He looked directly up at the window where I stood.
A shiver ran through me—not from surprise or fear, but from a strange, unfamiliar sensation.
The man lifted his hat slightly in greeting, then replaced it and continued on his way with curious indifference.
I thought I glimpsed a green ribbon on his grey top hat, but it may have been a trick of the light.
Frederick stood farther back and had not seen him.
Rushing downstairs would only undermine the dignity of a duke.
So I simply raised a hand to my mouth, allowed a faint, refined smile, and murmured almost inaudibly,
"Who… were you?"
Frederick spoke up suddenly.
"My lord, shall you not enter your chambers?"
I turned calmly toward him, composing myself fully once more.
"Oh… yes. Thank you. You may go now."
Frederick bowed his head and withdrew.
I stood alone on the floor—though other male servants surely existed elsewhere, none were in sight.
With a quiet smile, I stepped into the duke's bedroom.
The room was vast—perhaps even larger than the one in the previous manor.
I walked to the desk positioned before a window, hastily drew back the curtain, and saw exactly the view I desired.
Big Ben, distant yet clearly visible, directly across.
That was why I had ordered this manor purchased—a direct line of sight to Big Ben, however far, was immensely advantageous to me.
I smiled, settled into the leather chair, and opened one of the books on the desk at random.
I hadn't even noted its subject—I simply wanted something to occupy my hands in case anyone entered.
I tilted the chair slightly, gazing out at the sunlight streaming in and the distant tower, and whispered to myself,
"I think something new is coming… especially that man in the grey coat."