Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“I was uncertain of my lord’s whereabouts,” Beaglemore said, taking Cam’s damp coat.
“I told her ladyship you were out, and she declared that no man of sense was abroad in the middle of a rainstorm for long. She ensconced herself in the family parlor and has been making free with the tea and cakes for the past half hour.”
No man put off by a little rain could transact much business in Old Londontowne, unless he preferred to rely entirely on supernumeraries, which Cam did not.
“I paid a call on Thaddeus Singleton,” Cam said, fully aware his late father and even his charming late brother would not have explained an absence to a servant.
“I knew the rain meant our steward would be holed up in his cottage, and if we’re ever to have an efficient mill, Singleton needs to be brought round to the notion. ”
Beaglemore’s white brows rose. “A new mill, my lord?”
“New mill wheel. Overshot instead of undershot. Not complicated.” While Lady Josephine’s presence was not simple. “I am tempted to slip into the library and wait her ladyship out.”
Beaglemore accepted Cam’s high crowned beaver.
“I would not advise evasive maneuvers, my lord. Take the time to put yourself to rights, though I’d be quick about it, and greet her ladyship properly.
She is patient by nature, but if you elude her now, she will only reappear on the morrow, twice as determined on whatever errand brought her here. ”
The butler gave away nothing by his expression, save disapproval for a slightly wilted hat.
Did Lady Josephine hold some long past peccadillo over Beaglemore’s head?
A penchant for gambling beyond a butler’s modest means?
Alice had been very clear that her ladyship had elevated meddling to domestic extortion.
“Then I will deal with the old besom now,” Cam said.
“My lord, a gentleman does not wear somewhat muddy boots when greeting a lady, much less his lady aunt.” Beaglemore sounded as if he were pleading with Saint Peter on behalf of a truant schoolboy.
“We are thus left with a logical conundrum. Either I am not a gentleman, or the person seeking to ambush me in the family parlor is not a lady. No fresh tray, Beaglemore, and feel free to lurk at the door. The exchange may prove lively.”
Beaglemore looked as if he’d offer further admonitions, then nodded solemnly. “Best of luck, my lord.”
You’ll need it remained unspoken.
Cam caught his reflection in the pier glass outside the library, deemed himself sufficiently rumpled and wrinkled, and entered the family parlor without knocking.
“Aunt Josephine, good day.” He bowed. “What could be of such pressing importance as to bring you out in this weather?”
She smiled faintly and remained seated in the center of the sofa. The fire threw off good heat, and the silver tea service sat before her on the low table, two cakes left on the plate.
“My lord, clearly something compelled you to brave the elements. While I appreciate that, as a conscientious host, you did not wish to keep me waiting, I will understand if you’d like to take a moment to,”—she paused delicately and swept Cam with a head-to-toe appraisal— “tend to your toilette.”
“I’d rather not keep you from whatever appointed rounds you’re on, Aunt.” Cam seated himself in the wing chair flanking the sofa, though a gentleman ought not to take a chair without a lady’s permission.
Her smile became mildly dismayed. “Camden, dear, did you leave all your manners in Mayfair? I have yet to invite you to sit.”
Nor had Cam conferred upon her the honor of serving as hostess at the Hall.
“I left any insistence on silly protocols in Mayfair. I am in my own home, humoring a family member who chose to make an impromptu call. It is you, in fact, who made yourself comfortable without asking permission from your host, and Beaglemore is too gracious and good at his job to thwart your presumption. Have you come to discuss Bernard’s stipend? ”
“Gracious me, of course not. Such a topic… Honestly, Camden, the weather has affected your humors.”
Not the weather, unless weather had dark red hair, an impish smile, and a gift for slow kisses.
Cam had been determined to hold the line with Aunt Josephine for his own sake, but knowing how shabbily she dealt with Cam’s staff, tenants, and neighbors—to say nothing of her presumption where Alice was concerned—his determination to remind Aunt of her limitations had taken on the nature of a vow.
“My lady, I am a busy man. If you must intrude here at the Hall without notice, then please respect that I might not have much room on my schedule to spare for whatever discussion you hoped to have with me. I have obligations that I must see to in a timely manner. Inheriting the barony has only added to their number.”
She sat forward, spine very straight. “But that’s the very thing, Camden.
The very thing. I am here to help. I am at your disposal in oh-so-many ways, and you must believe me that one who had the honor to be the helpmeet of a distinguished clergyman under consideration for a bishop’s see is well versed in tasks that might surprise you.
I am a talented and tireless amanuensis, for example. ”
Cam’s most junior clerk would doubtless be her equal, but Lady Josephine was only getting started.
“I am adept at managing correspondence,” she went on.
“I would be happy—well, willing, in any case—to resume reviewing the household books with Mrs. Shorer, and I daresay the estate books could use a thorough inspection too. All of this I could take from your overburdened shoulders. Not to state the obvious, but I am also more than capable of organizing your social calendar such that you will call upon and entertain the best local families in the optimal order. I daresay you have no other resource competent to undertake that challenge.”
Beaglemore, Mrs. Shorer, Singleton, or Alice could all have managed the same feat in twenty minutes flat. Miss Considine might need closer to thirty.
“My brother went to his reward barely three months past, my lady. A furious round of socializing is beyond me, particularly given my ongoing London obligations. I appreciate your kind offers and will take them into consideration. If you will excuse me, I’ll have Beaglemore see you out.”
That last rudeness, failing to see a family member to the door, was heavy-handed. Not a miscalculation, but rather, an outright mistake resulting from temper.
Had Alice not warned Cam, he might well have capitulated to Lady Josephine’s apparently generous offer to review household books with Mrs. Shorer.
A tedious little ritual Cam might have delegated with some relief, thinking he’d placated his aunt’s need to meddle and freed up a little of his own time.
Cam rose and offered Lady Josephine his hand. She took it and struggled to her feet as if impersonating a woman twenty years her senior.
“One must admire your industry, Camden. Even as a boy, what you lacked in discernment or quickness, you could somewhat make up for in diligence. I must warn you, though, that here in the shires, particularly the northern shires, we hold to the quaint notion that gentlemen—much less peers—do not engage in trade. You may dabble on ’Change, discreetly, you may have your investments and even hold shares in a bank or two, but conducting yourself like a senior clerk in a countinghouse… ”
She dropped his hand and advanced toward the door. “It won’t do, my boy. It simply won’t do, especially not with the wealthy gentry. Families such as the Considines, Halbertsons, and Dingles are higher sticklers than your typical duchesses, and those families have long memories.”
Aunt Josephine would have to do much more than threaten the cut direct in St. Wilfrid’s churchyard, and yet, Cam admitted that she’d retreated from the skirmish with her head held high and managed to imply a vague threat on her way out the door.
“Beaglemore, if you’d see her ladyship out? Aunt, thank you for calling. I ought to next be receiving on Thursday afternoon at two of the clock. My regards to Bernard.”
She shook her head and exchanged some sort of long-suffering glance with Beaglemore.
“You will at least invite the Halbertsons for the Sunday meal, won’t you?
Or begin with the Considines and invite the Halbertsons next week, if you’d rather.
Even you ought to grasp the necessity for such a basic show of manners. ”
Aunt had been on a matchmaking mission as well. She’d never lacked for ambition.
“I’m conferring with Singleton when the Sabbath meal rolls around. We’re in the midst of harvest, and unless I take advantage of the Lord’s Day to snabble my steward, he’ll elude me until Yuletide. I cannot afford to absent myself from London for nearly that long. Good day to you, Aunt.”
This visual inspection was a bit less condescending, a bit more speculative. “Until Thursday, my lord.” She dipped the hint of a curtsey and took herself off at a regal pace, Beaglemore at her side.
Cam waited by a window until he saw a largish carriage pulling away from the front steps before seeking out his butler.
“My lord?” Beaglemore had retreated to the library, where he was making some sort of inventory of the decanters on the sideboard.
“Did she say anything noteworthy out of my hearing?”
Beaglemore put down his pencil and regarded a dozen crystal bottles, each holding a vintage for which Alexander had paid dearly.
“She inquired after Mrs. Shorer and assured me she would keep our housekeeper in her prayers.”
“No attempt to look in on Mrs. Shorer?”
Beaglemore took out a plain linen handkerchief and wiped the stopper of a decanter of calvados.