Chapter Ten
Earlier, when Lelander had gone up to change for dinner, he became determined to go forward with a rather unpleasant task he’d been considering all day.
Amidst the delightful hours of card playing and tea trays and examining Miss Poppy’s sketch book, an idea kept niggling at the edges of his thoughts.
He had to have a word with Burkhart regarding the baron. There had been something odd about Lord Montachet from the beginning. His mode of travel, his clothes, and happening to end up at Chemsworth had been suspect in his mind.
This lingering suspicion had been heightened when Miss Millthorpe had described her attackers. One was tall and lean and so was the baron. Lelander had reined in those ideas and told himself he was allowing his imagination to run wild.
But that was before the baron had made himself scarce today. Was that because his victim had turned up in the house? It seemed he had hidden out in his room all day, which was very strange. It bordered on rude to his hosts, actually. A baron would know better. A baron would act better.
Rather than turning toward his own room, he braced himself and knocked on Burkhart’s door.
Burkhart’s insolent valet answered it and gave him raised brows as a greeting. Then he turned and said to his employer, “It is Mr. Lelander.”
“What?” Burkhart said from inside the room.
“I tell no tales,” Smith said drily.
Burkhart was soon before him, looking as if Lelander had lost his wits to be turning up at his door.
Lelander said, “As much as it pains me to have any discourse with you whatsoever, I find I am pressed to do it.”
“I do not know who is pressing you, but it is certainly not me.”
In a low voice he said, “It is about the baron, and my concern for the ladies’ safety.”
Burkhart’s eyes widened just a bit. He opened the door to allow him in. “Smith, excuse us for a moment.”
Lelander could see very well that Smith did not care to leave, but he had no choice. As Smith stepped out, Lelander stepped in and looked around the room. “Mine is bigger,” he said.
“And I’m sure mine has a better view. Now that’s out of the way, let us get to the point of this unwelcome visit.”
Lelander nodded. “Do you not have any particular concerns about Lord Montachet?” he asked.
“I don’t like him and wish he’d shove off, if that’s what you mean.”
“I mean more than that. I am beginning to suspect that he might have been one of the men that robbed Miss Millthorpe.”
Burkhart looked staggered over that idea. “A baron?”
“If he is a baron. He is the right build, he turns up with no carriage, no trunks, his neckcloth is not quite right, there is a small fray on his cuff—”
“Leave it to you to notice his cuff.”
“Yes, well I have noticed it. A man walking round with a frayed cuff does not have a valet, either here or elsewhere. I’ve also noticed he made himself scarce in the house today after Miss Millthorpe’s arrival.”
“I was glad to be rid of him.”
“Yes, but why did he make himself scarce? Miss Poppy said that as she passed by the library doors with Miss Millthorpe, he peered round the doors and then disappeared as if he’d seen a ghost.”
Burkhart rubbed his chin. “I saw him look out a window of the library when we returned in the sleigh. He dropped the curtain when I met his eye. I presumed he was embarrassed to be caught looking.”
“My question is, who is he really? Is he a baron from Gloucestershire? Or is he a highwayman pretending at it?”
“That is a leap.”
“Yes, I know. But what if I’m right? What if he only comes away with six silverplate teaspoons and decides there is a bigger prize nearby?”
“Yes, I see. What if he decides there is no danger of the magistrate coming for him in this weather?”
“His compatriot could be hiding out in one of the outbuildings, while he is in here, able to pass himself off as a gentleman.”
“If that is so…”
“If that is so, we have a fox in the henhouse.
If that is so, he means to rob the place for bigger prizes than he found in Miss Millthorpe's little cottage. You see what I mean by danger for the ladies? If he is in fact some sort of highwayman, he might do anything at all. He might try a kidnapping for ransom. He might try one of their doors. Do they even lock them?”
“I’d rip him limb from limb.”
“Yes, but perhaps preventing any such thing would be the more sensible approach.”
“We cannot accuse him of anything without more proof beyond that his circumstances and actions are odd. If we are mistaken and he is a lord, the accusation would lead to pistols in the morning.”
“We watch him at dinner and see how he acts.”
“Very well.”
Lelander straightened his coat. “As much as it pains me to have anything to do with you, I will do it in service to the ladies.”
“My own pain must surpass yours by several miles. However, in service to the ladies.”
Since then, Lelander’s suspicions had only been heightened as he paid close attention to the baron over dinner.
He’d seen the fellow reach for his meat fork when a fish dish was served.
What sort of real gentleman made such a mistake?
Perhaps a gentleman who only posed as a baron made such a mistake.
And then, though the man said little, Lelander was certain that his voice was somehow changed. It was the smallest bit higher. Was this because he feared Miss Millthorpe would recognize it? The lady had said the short and stocky one had done most of the talking. Most. That did not mean all.
He was more and more sure there was something to worry about regarding that baron.
Between keeping an eye on the baron, he spent the majority of the dinner speaking to Miss Poppy. They had both given up any pretense of being interested in what anybody else had to say at the table.
He really was finding himself a bit moony over the lady. He was beginning to picture her in his house, at his table, as the next viscountess. He was beginning to think she felt the same.
He would not allow anything to happen to Miss Poppy Granger.
The last service had come round and the ladies and the two young boys had been led out of the dining room by the viscountess. Mr. Smuckers put a decanter of port at either end of the table.
Lelander noticed Montachet pour himself an outsize glass.
It was surprising, considering how much wine he’d consumed at dinner.
The footmen had been run off their feet with it.
Was he attempting to calm his nerves? If he were pretending to be someone he was not, Lelander imagined it was a nerve-wracking business.
If he was pretending to be someone he was not, he’d likely learned as much as he could.
But he’d seemed to be tripped up by the fish fork.
If it were him, he’d be nervous about what else he might have missed or got wrong.
“Now I expect this whole palaver will be concluded by the morrow,” the viscount said. “I’m quite sure the snow rollers will have come through and we can send a man to fetch the magistrate straightaway.”
“Will it be so soon?” Lord Montachet asked. “In Gloucestershire, it often takes several days after a storm such as this.”
“We are a bit more organized in Oxfordshire, I think,” the viscount said.
Lelander could hear the viscount’s disdain for other counties in his tone and tried not to laugh.
He also thought he heard something in the baron’s tone.
Was the fellow disappointed that the magistrate could be fetched on the morrow?
Fearful of it? Fearful that Miss Millthorpe would suddenly recognize his tone of voice as one of the men who had burst into her cottage?
Or that perhaps she already had? The lady was a cool customer and might have suspicions she was keeping close until the magistrate turned up.
He glanced at Burkhart and thought he’d noticed the amount of port in Montachet’s glass too.
It was positively confounding to Lelander that he must be in some sort of partnership with Burkhart to get to the bottom of his suspicions. He must though. He had a deep feeling sitting in his stomach that something was to occur with the baron.
He would pull Burkhart aside in the drawing room and suggest they set up a watch tonight.
If his suspicions had any merit, he and Burkhart were in the difficult position of defending against someone who was already in the house.
Locked windows and bolts on doors would do nothing to stop someone who was already inside.
They would need to be alert and watching to see if the baron would make a move before the magistrate ever set foot in Chemsworth Hall.
The arrival of the magistrate was the clock ticking like the ormolu on the mantel—if the baron would attempt to rob the place, or any other dastardly thing, he would do it and be away tonight.
The ladies had left the dining room and proceeded to their tea in the drawing room.
Pansy watched in amusement as Miss Millthorpe steered the boys away from the doors and up the stairs before they had a moment to protest. It would be an early night for Teddy and Bertie, whether they wished it or not. Pansy assumed they did not wish it.
Mrs. Dallway, always sharp-eyed, maneuvered her into a corner. “Well?” she said.
“Well what?” Pansy answered, though she knew perfectly well what the lady referred to.
“Lord Burkhart is a fine man,” Mrs. Dallway said. “He is much admired in York.”
“I would expect so,” Pansy said. “I cannot imagine he would be anything but admired wherever he goes. About York, though, is the Roses War much discussed there or is it just these two gentlemen?”
“Not nearly as much, though I suspect that is because there are no perceived enemies in the town to argue with. The border with Lancashire will naturally be a bit heightened. I believe feelings do still run deep in York though, as they always do with a losing side.”
“It really is silly though, is it not? To still argue over such a long-ago moment when we live in modern times? For heaven’s sake, what would the regent say to know the history of how he got there was still debated?”