Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian walked into the townhouse he secretly owned the day after he had gone to the Green with Vincent. He was hardly a man who worked well with weapons, not when his hands had far different talents, but he was still swift with a pistol.
Firing a few rounds into the practice targets had taken the edge off, and he had left the range feeling much more clear-headed, but now his thoughts felt tangled once again.
He did not bother with hanging up his coat. He would not be there long, but he had to speak with his housekeeper.
Sebastian found her in the ballroom, gently scolding a new member of the staff. While the housekeeper stayed on full-time, to manage matters adeptly in Sebastain’s absence, most of the others were hired exclusively for the parties.
He paused in the open doorway and listened to Mrs. Vale. She was a stout woman with a rounded figure. When she spoke, especially in low, harsh tones as she was now, her chin wobbled and her neck jerked slightly.
“You simply cannot spread such rumors,” she hissed.
“They weren’t rumors, Mrs. Vale,” the young man with close-cropped red hair a dusting of freckles across his cheekbones replied. “I saw the Duke’s carriage parked outside the other night. I heard the driver say he was waiting for His Grace and—”
“Enough!” Mrs. Vale ordered brusquely. She put both hands on her solid hips and leaned close to the boy. “If you want to work here, in this house, you will learn when to hold your tongue. Do you understand?”
Properly chastised, the young man nodded then dipped his head.
Sebastian was proud of the way Mrs. Vale handled the situation. While he did not know the whole of the problem, he’d heard enough of their discourse to understand that this new hire needed a lesson in discretion.
Thankfully, Mrs. Vale was shrewd as ever and had not failed in performing her most important task: ensuring the secrets of the household remained untold and unspoiled.
He waited in the shadows until the housekeeper dismissed the young man. Some of the staff, like Mrs. Vale, Edwards, Sebastian’s personal valet, and his driver, knew that the Duke of Talwyn was the owner of this home away from home.
Others who had seen him traipsing about might have thought he was just another guest who came and went as he pleased. They knew Lord Spencer to be their master, and there was no need to muddy their thinking by showing himself during the daylight hours.
“Mrs. Vale?” he called out once the coast was clear and he felt they were alone enough that he could enter the ballroom without exciting any needless chatter.
It was strange to see the place in the daylight.
The ballroom sparkled. The chandeliers overheard were not lit, but the gold plating glistened, indicating that someone had recently been working hard at polishing the gilding.
The parquet tiles, featuring a starkly contrasting white and black checkboard pattern, were waxed to such a high shine that Sebastian could almost catch a glimpse of his reflection when he looked down upon it.
He spent so little time here, that seeing it empty and unused was a bit of a shock.
The housekeeper, perhaps only ten years older than him, turned to face him, her smile welcoming and ready.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
He grinned broadly at her. “Did you know I was waiting, Mrs. Vale?”
“I would never keep you waiting, Your Grace,” she replied smartly.
He caught the hint of a twinkle sparkling in her round eyes that were the color of imported tea.
“Did you know I had arrived, then?” he amended his question.
“I know all the comings and goings in this house, Your Grace, just as you pay me to do.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian bobbed his head in appreciation of her skills.
“Was there a particular reason you came calling this afternoon?” Mrs. Vale’s eyes ticked up and down his form, and he could feel that she was inspecting his attire and perhaps looking for indications of what he had been doing before making this impromptu house call.
“May I speak with you privately?”
She nodded, so Sebastian led her up the stairs and into the study he rarely used. He would probably stay there today a little longer. Vincent and Percy were on a trip through the countryside with Verity, so it wasn’t likely that any visitors would come looking for him today.
Besides, he had been neglecting his work for the Crown in lieu of thinking about Lady Phoebe. He needed a place, this place, where he could concentrate and realign his priorities.
Shut inside, Sebastian took a seat behind the grand desk. It was an enormous piece of furniture that dwarfed all other fixtures in the room.
Made of rich mahogany, the desk stretched nearly from one wall to the other. His chair, which was made of buttery soft brown leather, supported Sebastian even when he slouched while trying to work out how to discuss the matter that riddled his mind.
“At my most recent event,” he said slowly, thinking, “I met a lady.”
It was not uncommon for that to happen. Even when Sebastian snuck off to the library as he had during the night of Lord Spencer’s Masquerade, he invariably spent the majority of the evening with one lady or another clinging to his arm.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Vale prompted, gently luring him out of his muddled thoughts. “Did the lady offend you in some manner? Should I send a footman to—”
“No, no.” He held up his hand to stop Mrs. Vale from entertaining such thoughts further. “This lady was quiet, cautious, maybe even a little prudent. She…”
When he trailed off, Mrs. Vale’s lips puckered. Sebastian recognized this as her confused face. “Is there some sort of problem with the lady, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” he answered automatically before recalibrating and trying again, “No. The lady I spoke with that night is not troublesome, but she is in a difficult situation, you see.”
“Ah…” Mrs. Vale nodded knowingly. “You would not be the first Duke to make a mistake at a masquerade and wind up with a bouncing baby on your doorstep a few months later.”
Sebastian’s mouth hung agape. He stared at Mrs. Vale for a long moment.
She has misconstrued things entirely.
He snapped his jaw closed then snorted, as a sense of amusement overcame his shock. “I did not mean that I compromise the lady in question and left her with child.”
Once more, Mrs. Vale screwed her lips up into a tight pucker. “Then, forgive me, Your Grace, but I am failing to understand the purpose of this conversation.”
Unsure of how to proceed, Sebastian’s eyes darted around the room. They stopped when they landed on his feather quill.
“Ah! Here.” He plucked the quill from its ink stand and scribbled a few notes onto a scrap of parchment.
Then, he stood and handed the missive to his housekeeper.
She glanced at the hastily written words, then looked at him wearing a bemused expression.
“Lady Phoebe, daughter of Lord and Lady Tripleton. That name sounds familiar. Shall I check our guestlist from the last event, Your Grace? Did this lady manage to sneak in without receiving a proper invitation from Lord Spencer?”
Sebastian heaved an exasperated sigh. He knew he was doing an abysmal job explaining the matter, so he didn’t blame Mrs. Vale for floundering, but he also wished she could just know his thoughts and stop asking so many probing questions.
“Lady Phoebe was invited to the ball. She arrived in the company of her cousin, Lady Genevieve.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Vale prompted.
“I know very little about Lady Phoebe,” he confessed at last. “I have made enquiries and asked the Duchess of Whitestone, but I still feel as if something in the lady’s history eludes me.”
“You wish to know more?” Mrs. Vale ventured.
“Precisely.” Sebastian had to resist the urge to applaud.
He had not done a great job of making his wishes apparent, but Mrs. Vale had got to the point, just the same.
“As far as I know, Lady Phoebe has lived a tumultuous life. She has been carted back and forth from London several times, all at the behest of her parents.”
Mrs. Vale carefully folded the paper Sebastian gave her and tucked it into the pocket of her black skirts. “And where did Lady Phoebe live when she was not in London, Your Grace?”
“That is what I’d like you to find out for me,” he answered. “I know that her grandfather, the late Earl of Tripleton, was important to her. He cared for her greatly and showed her kindness.”
“The late Earl of Tripleton,” Mrs. Vale said softly. “Do you know his given name? Have you consulted DeBrett’s?”
Sebastian thought of his copy of DeBrett’s, the great guide to the British peerage, that lay on a table at his other home. He had never thought of keeping another edition here at this townhouse, but as Mrs. Vale suggested, it would have been handy in this situation.
“Start there,” Sebastian instructed. “Learn all you can about the House of Tripleton and report back to me once you know more about Lady Phoebe and where she lived when she was not in London.”
He paused and ran a hand through his thick crop of hair, pushing aside the auburn locks that dangled closest to his eyes.
“This is a matter of some importance, Mrs. Vale. I trust that you will place this investigation at the top of your to-do list.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“That will be all.”
She curtsied her assent and left the study. Once the door was shut firmly behind the housekeeper, Sebastian slumped back into his seat and stared at the colossal desk, separating him from the outside world.
Before you were my Thisbe, who were you, Lady Phoebe?
As he mulled over that matter, Sebastian’s eyes snagged on the bottle of brandy that was perched near the left corner of the desk. He leaned forward to grab the neck of the bottle but paused with his hand hovering in mid-air.
My drink… The last drink I had at Lord Spencer’s Masquerade Ball…