CHAPTER 13 #2
A faint smile played on the other woman’s lips. “Aye, I ain’t much to look at, but His Lordship says you need someone trustworthy, and he knows I can be counted on to keep my mummer shut.”
“I’m rather afraid to ask what he’s told you about me,” replied Charlotte dryly. “I’m not intending to commit murder or steal the Duchess of Devonshire’s jewels.”
The smile stretched a little wider. “What a pity. Life has been a little flat lately. An adventure would be welcome.” The woman shifted against the squabs. “I’m McClellan.”
Charlotte reminded herself that a lady’s maid was always called by her last name. “I’m grateful for your assistance, McClellan.” On impulse, she held out her hand. “I’ll try not to cause you too much trouble.”
McClellan responded with a firm shake. “A wee bit of trouble keeps life interesting, Mrs. Sloane.”
They rode on for a few minutes in silence as Charlotte sought to sort out her thoughts. Wrexford had a knack of keeping her off-balance . . .
The why of which was a conundrum in and of itself.
A frown pinched her brow. It was maddening to have to keep swallowing her pride. But honesty compelled her to admit that in this case, his unpredictability was most welcome.
McClellan, noted Charlotte, seemed unperturbed by the silence. Another mark in the woman’s favor. A chattering fibber-widget would have driven her to distraction.
Her reflections were cut short as the carriage turned down Piccadilly Street.
The driver drew to a halt at the entrance to Green Park, and Charlotte soon found herself strolling along the graveled walkway, the very picture of a prim and proper lady, with her maid trailing behind at a discreet distance.
Oh, how looks can be deceiving.
The irony was rather amusing. It was, after all, at the heart of how she made her living.
“Mrs. Sloane.” Jeremy was waiting at the appointed spot. “You are looking quite lovely,” he said gallantly.
“Save your Spanish coin, Jem. Its glitter doesn’t fool me,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “You wound me to suggest my compliments are false gold.”
“You’ll survive.”
Seeing his quizzical glance at McClellan, who was standing at the requisite distance required of a servant, Charlotte explained, “I do know the rules of Polite Society. However idiotic they are, I must comply if I wish to mingle with the beau monde. McClellan has agreed to play the role of lady’s maid for the afternoon. ”
“How—” began Jeremy.
“I asked a favor,” she answered curtly.
He looked about to press the point, then seemed to think better of it.
Instead, he merely tipped his hat politely at McClellan before offering Charlotte his arm.
“Come, let us observe the maids milking the cows.” The park was well-known for the rustic sight of dairy cattle grazing on the lawns.
“Miss Merton and Mr. Hillhouse will meet us there by the serving shed.”
Charlotte was curious to meet the pair. She wondered whether Wrexford’s interview with Ashton’s assistant had fared any better than the one with his secretary. Given her own experience with his interrogation techniques, she rather doubted it.
“You say you’ve known Mr. Hillhouse for some time?” she asked, turning her attention to Jeremy.
“Yes. We were both scholarship students at Oxford. It was a bond of sorts—unlike the fancy swells, we had little blunt for carousing,” he answered.
“But it turned out we both enjoyed each other’s company.
” A wry grimace tugged at his lips. “His interest in mathematics and science was beyond me, however we shared similar tastes in reading, and spent many an hour discussing art and philosophy.”
Radical philosophy? wondered Charlotte. It wouldn’t be surprising, given they were intelligent young men without a groat in their pockets.
She left the question unsaid. She knew the depths of Jeremy’s loyalty.
He would curl up tight as a wary hedgehog if he thought she was digging for dirt on his friend.
“Mr. Hillhouse sounds like a very interesting fellow.”
The question is whether he is also a very dangerous one.
“That he is,” replied Jeremy as he cut around a pair of laughing boys playing catch with a cricket ball.
A breeze ruffled through the air, stirring the sun-warmed scent of grass. Charlotte inhaled deeply, savoring its sweetness. She must think about bringing the boys here, and treating them to a glass of fresh milk. Hawk, who had a love for animals, would be in alt—
“Lord Sterling!” The sudden hail from behind them sounded a bit breathless.
Charlotte glanced around to see a young woman hurrying in their direction. She looked to be alone.
“Miss Merton,” began Jeremy. But his welcoming smile quickly faded on seeing her expression. “Is something amiss?”
“No . . . Yes!” Octavia Merton came to an awkward halt.
Whether her face was red from rushing or from embarrassment at making such a dramatic entrance was impossible for Charlotte to tell.
“W-What I mean is,” added Octavia in a rush, “I fear something has gone dreadfully wrong.”
Jeremy stiffened. “Take a moment to catch your breath, and then tell me why.”
Octavia gulped in a lungful of air and let it out in a low whoosh. “Benedict has gone missing.”