Chapter 5 #2
The butler, Greaves, was too well-trained to show surprise at his master’s outburst.
“I have only just found out, Your Grace,” he responded ponderously. “One of the maids reported that Her Grace did insist on releasing the young woman from the attic. I am not sure where they have gone, but since she has just requested tea in her parlor, I would hazard a guess.”
Stephen growled under his breath, stepping out from behind his desk. “I’ll manage from here, Greaves.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Muttering under his breath, Stephen stomped through the corridors, finding his way to his grandmother’s private parlor.
The door was ajar as he approached, and he could hear low voices inside.
One was his grandmother’s, of course, but the other…
the other voice was familiar. It was the light, amused tone of Amelia Holt.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, fixing both women with a fearsome scowl.
Amelia flinched, paled, and clutched her teacup as if for comfort. His grandmother, of course, only smiled broadly and sipped away.
“And who gave you permission to leave the attic?” Stephen asked, glowering at Amelia.
“I did,” Letitia responded, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “Really, Stephen, this is no way to treat my new companion.”
“She isn’t your companion.”
“She wasn’t my companion,” Letitia corrected.
“She is now. Come, come, Stephen, don’t you think that an old woman like me requires company?
I am dreadfully lonely these days, and you seldom visit for a chat, do you?
I can barely manage Society, and I would like somebody to keep me company. Is that a crime?”
“Of course it is not a crime,” he snapped. “But do you know what a crime is? Breaking into people’s homes. Which is what this young woman did, by the way. I wonder if she mentioned that?”
Amelia reddened.
Letitia sighed, taking a long sip of her tea. “Steady on, Stephen.”
“No, Grandmother, I will not steady on. This woman cannot be trusted. Why do you think I put her in the attic, instead of ushering her through the front door and introducing her to you?”
She sniffed. “There is never a good enough excuse for locking a woman in the attic, my dear.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Do not be contrary, Grandmother.”
“I am not sure that you can make that accusation, my dear. Sit down, Stephen. Have some tea.”
“I do not want any tea.”
“I didn’t break into your house,” Amelia burst out, fixing him with a glare.
She probably thought it formidable, but it was moderately stern, the sort of look one might receive from a kitten whose yarn ball had just been taken away.
Stephen briefly narrowed his eyes at her, then pointedly turned his gaze to his grandmother.
“Enough of this, Grandmother. I am taking this woman back up to the attic. She is comfortable up there, with furniture and blankets aplenty, and I will ensure that she has food and water, as well as—”
“I would like her to remain down here,” Letitia cut in. “If you return her to the attic, then I shall simply retrieve her again. Do not test my resolve, my darling boy. You are sharp and intelligent enough for three men—from where do you think you inherited your wits?”
Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, forcing back a smile.
She’s put me in a damnable position. Grandmother knows that I do not like to say no to her, not at her age. Not after everything she’s done for me. But she’s taking it too far.
“I have my own reasons for keeping Amelia here,” he said at last.
Letitia drained her teacup and set it down with a clink.
“Ah, so you do know her name,” she responded jovially.
“I was starting to think that you were only going to call her that girl, and had perhaps not learned her name at all. And you will notice that I did not mention that Amelia should leave the house, only leave the attic. Besides, she is a seamstress. A dressmaker!”
“What is your point?”
Letitia poured herself another cup of tea. She appeared to live on tea.
“Well, I wanted some new dresses, did I not? And my modiste is often too busy for house calls.”
There was a brief silence while Stephen gathered this thoughts, until Amelia spoke again.
“I did not break into your house,” she repeated, this time more vehemently.
Letitia regarded her with interest, glancing between her and her grandson. A hint of delight briefly crossed her face, tinged with a good deal of mischief.
That was hardly a good sign. As a woman who had once ruled Society with an iron fist, Letitia had not adjusted well to the infirmities and boredom of old age.
She’s bored. I should have known better than to smuggle a woman into our house under her nose. Of course, she would want to get involved.
“Grandmother,” he said, choosing his words as carefully as he could, “I would like a word alone with Miss Holt.”
Amelia eyed him with a mix of trepidation and wariness.
“What if I say no?” she asked, watching him closely.
“Are you going to say no?” he shot back.
There was a long silence, and then Amelia glanced over at Letitia. “I don’t mind speaking to him,” she mumbled, half-apologetically.
Letitia nodded, rising unsteadily to her feet and leaning on her cane. “Very well. I shall stand right outside with the door open, as a distant chaperone to protect your reputation. My companion must be protected, after all.”
Amelia gave a bitter laugh, her gaze sliding away.
“You needn’t worry about that. I’m not a member of the ton, after all. Nobody cares about what happens to my reputation. Or to me in general,” she added, and there was a bitterness in her voice that gave Stephen pause.
There was no way his grandmother could have missed it, but she only smiled faintly, hobbling toward the door.
“As I said, Amelia,” she responded, glancing carefully at him. “I shall leave the door open. You’ll be under my protection, and that still counts for something, I think!”
She gave them a wink, then retreated, leaving the door slightly ajar, as promised.
Letting out a long sigh, Stephen turned to face his reluctant guest.