Chapter 4 #2
And then the earl’s eyes lit. “Ah, I remember. You had a half-brother who went off as a coronet.” He extended his hand. “Welcome, Captain Lynford. Your sister and I were just discussing the need for a chaperone. Of course you’ll stay here with us.”
Trapped, she was. Will needed a place to stay and rooms for both of them at the hotel would sorely tax her funds.
Will’s was another face she hadn’t seen in years, but at least his was a friendly one, and she so very much needed a friend. Plus, she could see him properly fed. She needn’t do more than suffer meals with the odious new earl while fattening up her brother.
He’d be a terrible chaperone though, off visiting alehouses and clubs and probably making the rounds of the London brothels.
Perhaps she would take herself off to Mivart’s. Or… she’d sent a note to Lady Loughton requesting a ride to the Harrington rout that evening. She might as well call and inform her in person of the change in plans.
“Will, you’ll want to settle in, but later this evening the Harringtons are hosting a rout. Will you escort me?”
Her brother’s eyes twinkled. “Putting me to work already?”
“If you’ve made other plans—”
“I will escort you,” Graeme said. “I had an invitation to the rout in my stack of mail.”
Will turned a solemn look on the new earl. “Of course I’ll accompany my sister.”
She sent Will off with Adwick and beckoned Radley. “The rain has stopped. We may as well walk.”
“Wait and I’ll get my hat,” Graeme said. “Where are you going? I’ll accompany you and then continue on to White’s.”
“I’m calling on Lady Loughton. That is the opposite direction.”
“Nevertheless. It’s been ages since I’ve been in town, and I’ve been cooped up on a ship for months. It will be good to stretch my legs and get my bearings.”
“Do let them come in,” a woman called.
The butler who answered the door at Loughton House dipped his head and ushered first Blythe, and then Graeme, in.
A tall, dark-haired young woman descended the stairs and greeted Blythe with a kiss on the cheek. Blythe introduced Lady Mary Elizabeth Loughton, wife of the current Baron Loughton, who as it happened was not at home.
Graeme tried to excuse himself, but Lady Loughton insisted they both join her in the library.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” Lady Loughton said, pointing to an arrangement of chairs and sofas. “We are all at sixes and sevens here, but I’ll go and fetch my mother-in-law. I know she’ll want to meet you, Lord Chilcombe.”
Graeme eyed the shelves of books and the papers piled on a large desk in the corner.
“I wonder whether Lord Loughton would appreciate us in his domain,” he said.
“It’s as much Mel’s domain as his,” Blythe said.
“Mel?”
“Mary Elizabeth. Mel to her friends.”
“And you are a good friend?”
“Yes. Mel is a banker, you know. A principle shareholder at Sawley’s Bank.”
“Ah.” The mysterious loan in the logbooks was from Sawley’s bank.
Before he could ask more questions, Lady Loughton returned with two other ladies.
The dowager Lady Neda Loughton was a petite blond with sparkling blue eyes, who didn’t appear to be much older than forty.
The other lady was a comfortably plump woman of perhaps sixty; Lady Hermione Gravelston, the younger Lady Loughton’s older cousin.
A tea tray arrived next, and tea was served while he answered all the polite inquiries about his travels. The ladies were no doubt sizing him up, while he did the same, relieved to find that Blythe’s friends were decent, sensible ladies.
“Have you heard anything new from the court?” the younger Lady Loughton asked.
“I haven’t,” Blythe said, looking at him, a question in her eyes. “But Lord Chilcombe has only just arrived.”
“I’m sorry,” Lady Loughton said. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“Do forgive us, Lord Chilcombe. We’ve all been so worried for Blythe’s sake,” the older Lady Loughton said. “Perhaps it’s a good thing that you haven’t heard any news.”
Lady Gravelston huffed. “Or it might be a bad thing if that villain is scurrying about trying to conjure up a witness to the new will,” she said and then winced. “And I also must beg your pardon, Blythe, my lord.”
“In that vein, no news is good news, I suppose,” Graeme said. “However, Lady Chilcombe has received some happy news. Her brother has arrived at Chilcombe House this afternoon on leave from the army.”
Having successfully distracted them from a discussion of the Chilcombe will, he settled back as the ladies expressed their happiness and wishes to meet Captain Lynford.
Blythe inquired about the Loughton family members who’d be arriving soon, and he, having finished his tea and done enough of the pretty, took his leave and promised to see them at the evening’s rout.
Blythe watched Graeme leave and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well,” Mel said. “I suppose I oughtn’t to have brought up the subject of the will. He’s rather formal, your new earl.”
Blythe grimaced. “My immediate dilemma is staying under the same roof with him. I was set to remove myself to Mivart’s Hotel, over his objections, when my brother arrived.
Chilcombe has it in his head that my brother will serve as a proper chaperone.
But you know how young men are. I of all people must be careful of my reputation.
It would be better for me to leave the two together to their bachelor ways. ”
The two Ladies Loughton exchanged a glance, but it was Lady Gravelston who spoke.
“There’s not a bed free at Loughton House.
Why, I’m meant to share a bed with Nancy, and the mood she’s in after her dealings with the duke…
” Her cheeks grew pinker and she smiled.
“Not that I blame the dear girl. I wonder… might you have room for me, Lady Chilcombe? I’ll still be close to my dear Mel and Neda, and I can keep the gossips at bay.
And I assure you, I’m not a gossip myself. ”
“Not much of one,” Mel said with a smile.
The older lady shrugged. “Unless I hear news that is useful for you. What is he really like, your new earl?”
“He was a friend when we were children but I haven’t seen him for years. He was always a well-behaved boy—a few years younger than me, and later, a very proper young man. Not much given to hijinks. He doesn’t seem to have changed.”
“Even in diverting us, he was well-mannered.” Neda always looked for the good in people. “That must serve him well in his occupation.”
Lady Gravelston sent a mischievous look over her teacup. “Do you not find him rather handsome?”
All eyes trained on Blythe and she felt warmth rising in her cheeks. “I suppose,” she said, noncommittally. “But handsome is as handsome does, and I’ve yet to know him well enough to judge.”
“I beg your pardon for joking with you so newly widowed,” Lady Gravelston said. “The trials of widowhood, isn’t that right, Neda? I have lost a beloved husband as well.”
Blythe sighed. Archie had been a beloved husband for not much more than a month, after which she’d made discoveries that brought her to her senses.
“My dear,” Neda said, “this is a terrible strain you’re under.
I would insist you stay here with us, but Hermione is right, we are packed to the rafters.
Your servants now are loyal, and the earl will come to appreciate your help making his way in society.
Your brother has been away from England for too long to be much assistance.
You need a female ally in that house, and Hermione, if she is willing, is perfect for the role. ”
“Will I have to share a bed?” Lady Gravelston asked with a cheeky grin. “If not, than I am more than willing.”
Graeme found Manus Morley reading the day’s newssheets at a table, while gray-haired members napped in nearby club chairs.
Morley signaled a waiter and ordered him a drink, then lifted his glass in a toast. “To the new Earl of Chilcombe,” he said. “How did you find the rest of the house and your account books?”
“The rest of the house is exceptionally well-kept also,” Graeme said. As were the books but he didn’t wish to discuss them.
“Is it now?” Morley leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, but his casualness didn’t fool Graeme.
“You must come around for dinner one night. I’ll send a note.”
“That would be capital. Chilcombe House had a scaffold up most of last year. But wait until you see Risley Manor. Parts of it are crumbling. They had a leak in the roof that all but brought down the ceiling over the earl.”
His senses alerted again. “You’ve been to Risley Manor?” Morley’s descriptions of the goings on at Risley Manor had all been expressed as things he was told about.
Morley sighed and leaned closer, speaking softly. “I did say I had more to tell you.”
An elderly gentleman nearby stirred, and Morley lowered his voice to a low murmur.
“I was there a couple of years before your cousin died. I was on my way to a friend’s in Wiltshire when I ran into Lord Vernon on the road.
He insisted I tag along with him and pay a call.
” Color touched his cheeks and he glanced away.
“And? Are the gossips right about…” About Blythe. He didn’t have to go on. Morley knew what he meant—he’d raised the subject earlier in his room.
“The earl was there, but the countess wasn’t at home.”
“Away, or just not at home to the two of you?”
“Not there, I suspect. I never saw her.”
“But the other ladies?”
Morley frowned. “Chilcombe had rooms in one of the wings. Had a very fetching nurse fussing over him and two pretty maids winking at Lord Vernon and me.”
“Did you stay for the orgy?”
Morley didn’t so much as bat an eye. “I did not. My wild, wicked days are behind me. Plus… the earl’s appearance put me off the notion entirely. Rail thin and pale as a ghost. Had the tremors until his nurse dosed him.”
Archie had been addicted to opium. That much of the gossip Morley shared must be true.
“I paid my respects and plowed on. Found a second-rate inn in the next town but the food was good. Thought it best to take my dinner there too.”
“Thank you, Morley. If you’re holding back anything else—”
“Yes, well… When I left Risley Manor, I asked the groom who brought my phaeton round where I might find her ladyship.” He frowned.
“I’ve always liked to, er, know things, you know?
Told the groom my sister was a good friend of her ladyship and she’d asked me to check on her.
Fellow was a little simple and he didn’t disappoint.
Wouldn’t say where she was, but he said she always seemed to know when his lordship and his friends were coming and she never was around when they arrived.
I asked about her in the taproom at the inn where I dined.
One traveler tittered over his ale, but I swear, the locals—rum crowd of farmers and yokels, not your high-class sort—shot him daggers and all of them clammed up. ”
A flash of color caught Graeme’s eye. The peacock who’d been seated next to Blythe, Lord Vernon Falfield, was coming their way. He looked like a pinch-faced Lord Byron with amber snake-eyes.
Graeme exchanged a look with Morley. “You didn’t tell me about your travels after we met in Paris,” he said. “Did you go on to Greece before the revolution there started?”
“Never made it,” Morley said. “Florence, though. Had a grand time there.”
“Might I join you?” Lord Vernon bowed and pulled over a chair. “Welcome to White’s. Lord Chilcombe, I saw your arrival at Lady Chilcombe’s. Lord Vernon Falfield. Morley is always running off to France. His stories of his travels will put you to sleep.”
“Is that so? He’s just been telling me about visiting my cousin at Risley Manor.”
“Didn’t stay for the fun, did you, Morley? I say, Chilcombe, you have big boots to fill. Archie was a game fellow, that’s for sure.”
“Was he? I can’t say I knew him well. Our families weren’t close.”
“Particular friend of mine.” He grinned. “The countess too. Now there’s a lovely lady. She won’t be troubling you for support much longer.”
“You mean she’ll remarry?” he asked. “Or are you implying something else?”
Lord Vernon laughed. “Don’t get your temper up, old fellow. I’m not impugning the lady.” He beckoned a waiter. “Another round for you two?”
Graeme glanced at his watch. “Not for me. I’ll bid you both good day.”
“I say, don’t leave yet,” Lord Vernon said. “I was hoping to find you here. My father, Diddenton, wants you to pay a call on him tomorrow.”
“I’m not free tomorrow,” Graeme said. “It will have to be another day.”
“Make it so,” Lord Vernon said, softening the remark with an oily smile. “Diddenton don’t like to wait on earls.” He laughed again, a false, horsey sound. “Pompous old prig, he is.”
One pompous prig to another; the marquess would have to wait on this earl.
“Don’t forget that promised dinner invitation,” Morley said.
“And one for me as well?” Lord Vernon flashed a cheeky grin.
Graeme shrugged and left, making his way to Chilcombe House, wondering what Lord Vernon was implying about Blythe, wondering how he should deal with the lout. It wasn’t just her reputation at stake, but his as well.
He could handle a pistol and sword and he was good with his fists. But he was even better with his brain.
Blythe was a widow, and widows were free to take lovers. Despite his first impulse to think the worst of her, his instincts were telling him that Blythe wasn’t seeking an affair. Perhaps she hadn’t even been a participant in Archie’s depravity.
Diddenton was claiming Chilcombe property and pushing forward a will that disinherited Blythe.
He needed to find out more. Someone at the Foreign Office might know what this was all about.
He’d call on Diddenton after he’d armed himself with more information.
And there was an additional option—he could hire his nosy friend Manus Morley to supplement the solicitor’s inquiries. That property dispute ought to be thoroughly investigated.