Edman inclined his head. “I have made arrangements for you to travel to the market town and paid for a room for you there. You will have a few days to decide where you want to go.”

Anger overcame Dobbins’s sick stomach. “Who’s taking over?”

“I am,” Russon said.

Dobbins fisted his hands.

“I would not do that if I were you,” Edman drawled like some nob. “Not unless you would like to spend the next month or so in gaol.”

It was clear to Dobbins the man meant it. He needed more time to think, to work things out. To find a way to keep his job. “I can’t get packed up in a day.”

Edman took out a pocket watch and flipped open the lid. “You won’t have to worry about that. By the time you arrive at the inn, your personal items will be there. You will be allowed to take the furniture as well. That’s being moved and will be kept in storage for you.”

“It’s a good deal,” Kitching said. “Just do what he’s telling you to do. It won’t go well if you make trouble.”

Dobbins knew the man was right. It just riled him that he didn’t have a say. He gave a sharp nod. “I’ll go.” He glared at Russon. “But you won’t do better with him in charge.”

“Be that as it may, the decision’s been made.” Edman walked to the door and opened it. “Good luck to you.”

He walked out of the office and looked around. None of his lads were there. Instead, there were strangers. “Where are my men?”

“Gone,” a tall man who looked like a soldier said. “They’ve been reassigned.”

Shite! They still got jobs and he didn’t. Someone was going to pay for that. He’d teach the reformer not to mess with his business. First Dobbins had to find him. And he’d have to be careful. Wouldn’t do for word to get back to that steward he was lookin’ for the owner. But someone who knew one of the servants at the manor house, or maybe one of the townspeople might know the name of the owner. Once he found the man, he’d make sure things went back to the way they were.

* * *

The next week was so busy, Eleanor did not know in which direction she was going most of the time. When she was not at fittings, or choosing luggage, or doing other shopping, she was at Montagu House consulting with the Rollinses. She had been pleased that Jobert, Turner, and Jemmy, her groom, seemed to be getting on well with the Montagu staff.

She was frowning over the nursery and schoolroom floor plans when John was announced.

He strolled over to her. “What are you doing?”