Corey McFadden (34 page)

“Do you know if this is the costume I am to wear to receive the dressmaker, Anna?” Maude spoke gently.

“Yes, miss. That’s it. Did you ‘ave enough ‘ot water, miss?”

The girl’s voice was low and Maude found that she had to lean forward to catch all of her words.

“Yes, it was wonderful, thank you. The soap was just lovely.” Maude smiled warmly at Anna, hoping to put her at ease, and was rewarded by a slight grin from the girl. “What time do we expect the dressmaker to come?” Maude asked.

“At about ten, miss, about an hour from now.”

Her voice was ever so slightly less timid, and her eyes had found Maude’s.

“Well, that will be fine, Anna. You may show her up when she arrives. I’ll do some reading until then.” Maude hoped the child would not notice that there didn’t seem to be a book anywhere in the room.

With a curtsey, the girl left the room. Alone now, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her for the next hour, Maude sat in the beautiful brocade wing chair in her elegant silk gown and stared at the accusing, rumpled bed. What was the answer?

* * * *

The Earl of Radford battered on his front door, not waiting for his carriage footman to see to it. Martin opened the door in a whisk, having heard the carriage clattering up.

“Send for Ambrose Peabody at once, Martin,” Radford flung over his shoulder, not breaking stride. “And I’ll want some breakfast. I’ll be in my room.”

He took the stairs two at a time, leaving Martin staring after him. The butler shook his head as he made his way quickly to the kitchen. Something was not right, and he’d put fifty pounds on it having to do with that young Mike who had mysteriously disappeared into the country yesterday.

Upstairs in his room, Radford tore off his shirt and dropped it to his feet with the thoughtlessness that goes with being waited on hand and foot since birth. He was about to undo hours of painstaking pressing and methodical folding when Martin materialized at his elbow and retrieved the day’s attire from the wardrobe.

Radford said nothing as he dressed, but the black cloud over him was all but visible. Martin made quick work of the earl’s neckcloth and beat a hasty retreat. Alone, Radford sank into his large wing chair by the fire to await his breakfast and Mr. Peabody.

How would he present this to Peabody? For all that the old man’s discretion was legendary, there was no way to really buy silence from hired detectives. Part of the truth? All of it? That he was considering marriage made the whole truth a dangerous business, yet how could he solve the mystery if he withheld the facts? At length he sighed and shifted in the chair. It was of utmost importance that he protect his Molly from scandal if she were to have any hope at all of acceptance in the
ton
. Well, he would start with a half-truth, a runaway boy, and see where that led them. He could amend the facts if necessary later on.

* * * *

As the door closed behind Madame Arnaud and her woebegone, heavily burdened helper, Irma, Maude sank, exhausted, into the chair. Fever! She had lost her hair to a fever! Madame had been so solicitous and comforting about Miss Ramsey’s recent misfortunes, clucking kindly over her bandage. Fever and a robbery. It had also been a relief to learn that Madame thought the lovely Miss Ramsey was the earl’s ward, in London now to receive some private tutelage before embarking on her Season next fall. His ward, not his mistress. Well, she had to give him credit for inventiveness, but it would have been nice if he’d thought to mention his little tales to her, since she was the one who had to live with them. She suppressed a giggle as she realized that between them she and the earl had quite a talent for concocting convincing whoppers. Perhaps they should abandon all pretense of respectability and take to the road as charlatans.

The several-hour session had been exhausting, not from the actual measuring and fitting, but because Maude had been at war with herself. Only in the dimmest recesses of her childhood memories could she remember being fussed over and pampered in such a way. No dressmaker had been summoned to Romney Manor on Maude’s account—not since Aunt Claire had moved in. Those few gowns that had been ordered for Maude were plain, serviceable, and utterly without style. She hadn’t much cared at the time, or so she had thought, but now, as she fingered the beautiful silks and velvets a good dressmaker used to entice orders, she felt a longing rise up in her that she, too, might look like a fairy-tale princess instead of the ragtag tomboy she had been most of her life.

Nevertheless, Maude ordered as little as Madame Arnaud seemed able to bear. Doing fierce battle with the lure of the exquisite finery was her sad and battered conscience, drumming away at her and demanding that she spend as little as possible of the man’s money under these sorry circumstances. Maude had finally convinced Madame Arnaud that she would order no more than several serviceable day gowns.

Madame had graciously given in. Maude rather suspected that, having taken her measurements, the woman would go straight to the earl and attempt to have him order more finery, but at least it would not be on Maude’s conscience.

Maude had given in rather quickly in the matter of the riding habit, however. Madame had patiently explained, as Maude tried to select an inexpensive, inferior material, that the earl himself had ordered it for her. It was to be a deep forest-green velvet, so deliciously soft and rich, and as it was already cut out in rough, waiting for Maude’s measurements, it would be delivered this afternoon.

But the biggest surprise had come at the end of the fitting when Madame Arnaud had opened up a small case and had shown her several hair pieces in various shades of auburn, carefully rolled and netted into chignons, explaining that she could select the one that matched her own hair most closely and no one would be the wiser.

Maude had stared in surprise, then started to laugh. Rushing to her bag of pitiful belongings, Maude had retrieved her old shawl and brought it to Madame Arnaud. Nestled in the middle, where it had remained untouched since the night of her flight from Romney Manor, was her own long twist of hair. Maude had stammered that it had been cut to preserve it when she fell ill, while Madame had swept it up, examined it, and pronounced it perfect for a chignon. It, too, would be delivered this afternoon, accompanied by a hairdresser to show Maude the trick of pinning it securely.

Immediately after they left, Anna appeared with a fresh tea tray. Setting it down, she turned with an expectant look at Maude.

“Anna, tell me about the household staff. Is there a butler?”

Prisoner of her dressing gown, Maude felt the need to acquaint herself with this house. After all, Edward had rented it for her, even though she had no intention of staying; moreover, he was expected to dine with her tonight. She felt the prickle of desire at the mere thought, then colored with embarrassment as she realized Anna was staring at her.

“I was ’ired yesterday, miss. It’s my first post. I don’t know much about the ’ouse as yet. But there’s Mr. Graves. ’E’s the butler, and there’s cook, and two maids over me. They was all ’ere before me.”

Anna had managed to meet Maude’s eye several times while speaking. Perhaps the girl was feeling a little less terrified. At least Maude understood now the root of Anna’s fears. As a brand-new hireling the girl probably knew little of service and had no idea what to expect.

“Anna, has anyone sat down and told you what your duties are?” If this was her house, even temporarily, the least she could do was see to its proper management.

“Some, miss. A little. I’m to see to your needs mostly, and ’elp out in the kitchen when you’re not wantin’ me. The maids clean, and Cook cooks, and Mr. Graves tells us all what to do.”

There was almost a smile about the girl’s lips. Maude met her eyes and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I see,” she said. “Yes, that’s what most butlers are best at. Giving orders. Well,” she continued, plucking absently at her dressing gown, “I suppose I’d better see Mr. Graves this morning. I’m not likely to get any more presentable than this till the dressmaker gets back.”

“Oh, that’s all right, miss,” Anna almost blurted out. “Everyone feels real bad about your coach robbery, losin’ all your pretty things and gettin’ a nasty cut in your side and all. And leavin’ you to walk in the mud, so’s your only dress got torn and ruined, why that’s just criminal it is.”

Maude could not refrain from laughing. “Yes, Anna, criminal would indeed be the word for it. Very well, you may tell Graves I will see him now, please, up here.”

With a little bob, Anna disappeared.

Maude crossed the room to a small escritoire, where she had found paper, pen, and ink, and sat down to make a few notes to herself. She had never run a household, but as money had been scarce at Romney Manor for a full-sized staff, she had had her share of chores to do.

There was a purposeful knock on the door, clearly not Anna, and Maude said, “Come in.”

“You wished to see me, miss?”

Graves was every inch the imperious butler, ramrod stiff at attention. Was there a hint of a sneer in his voice? Maude was not sure, but it was clear that he was not one to be fobbed off with tales of robberies and wardships.

“I did. Graves. I understand his lordship will be dining here this evening. Is Cook prepared or shall we send to the market?” Maude matched him in formality, unwilling to allow him the upper hand.

“His lordship has had everything delivered for the evening meal, miss. He has ordered dinner at nine o’clock. Is there anything else you wish to know?”

The sneer was very definite now in his voice, and Maude felt anger rise in her. This is precisely the sort of treatment I can expect as an earl’s doxy, she thought to herself furiously. So this pompous jackanapes thought himself above her, did he? Well, she’d like to see him survive on only his wits as she had!

“Yes, Graves, as a matter of fact,” she said frostily. “I wish to know the condition of the stables. Are there any riding horses stabled here at present?”

“There are two horses, miss, brought here this morning by his lordship’s man. I wouldn’t know if they are riding horses or not.”

His tone was dismissive, as if he felt she had no right or need to know this.

“I see.” Clearly, the man would not recognize her authority in this house. As much as Maude had determined she would not be the lady of the house under the present circumstances, she now wanted this arrogant man to know who was boss. “Then who is in charge of the stables? I will speak to him.”

“There is no one here now,” he stated loftily, as if pleased at thwarting her simple request. “His lordship will send someone over to tend the horses this evening and a new groom is being hired.”

He turned away as if to go. Maude noted he had even done away with the “miss” in his address to her.

“Just a moment, I am not done, Graves!” she snapped, her tone imperious. “I will require Anna as my personal maid. See to it that she understands the basic duties of a lady’s maid. The dressmaker will return this afternoon for a final fitting and I shall expect Anna to be up to snuff by then.” Maude paused, waiting for his acknowledgment which came in the form of a barely perceptible nod. “I also wish to see the stablehand when he arrives. Is that clear?”

Again she waited for his nod. He turned again to go.

“One moment, Graves. I will dismiss you when I am done.” The snap of anger was now clear in his eyes, as he turned back to her and stood waiting. “I wish to speak with Cook immediately about the evening menu. Have her come up now.” She took a breath, waiting to see if he would make another attempt to leave. He stood still. “That will be all.”

Her eyes locked with his, the battle of wills apparent. After a seeming eternity, he inclined his head, ever-so slightly, murmuring, “miss,” then turned on his heels and stalked from the room.

Maude fairly shook with rage. How dare he! If ever she needed proof that she could not possibly stay here as the earl’s mistress, here it was, in the sneering condemnation of this arrogant butler. No, she would as soon starve in the streets as bear this kind of humiliating treatment!

Grim with anger, she turned back to the paper on her desk. So his lordship had ordered dinner, had he? Well, she would have the menu from the cook and she’d damn well order changes if anything didn’t suit her. For however short a time she remained in this house, she would be treated with respect.

Chapter Nineteen

At half past eight that evening, the Earl of Radford was being tied into his neckcloth by a new, very obviously masculine valet, an older man who had become available when his elderly master had departed this life. He was highly skilled and had been much sought after. Radford had outbid them all, but at least he could be sure this one couldn’t do double duty as a chambermaid.

With taut efficiency, born of nearly a half century of service to Quality, the man was completing Radford’s toilette when there came a discreet rap at his door. At the earl’s “Come in,” Martin appeared.

“Mr. Ambrose Peabody to see you, my lord. Shall I have him wait or send him away?”

“I’ll see him in ten minutes, Martin. Show him to the library and see that we are not disturbed.” Radford’s heart began to race at the thought that he might have an answer to his mystery. He had not expected to hear anything for several days at least, in spite of the urgency he had conveyed.

In a scant ten minutes, Radford entered the library and found Mr. Peabody standing at the shelves on the far wall, nervously thumbing through a near-priceless manuscript.

“Good evening, Peabody,” Radford greeted him. “I am surprised to see you back already. Surely your ‘tecs’ cannot have discovered anything so soon?”

“Good evening, my lord,” Peabody began. “I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, particularly since the information may be nothing, but I was sufficiently concerned that I thought I should report to you immediately.”

“Indeed?” Radford asked, masking the alarm that Peabody’s words set off in him.

“Yes, my lord. You see, the detectives started by nosing round the area of Radford, since that is where the young man was first seen by your lordship,” Peabody explained. “They use the standard techniques at this stage, you understand, nothing heavy-handed, just the loose, gossipy talk of traveling laborers in pubs, buying an ale now and then for a talkative chap, you know the sort of thing that I mean...” the solicitor paused, and the earl nodded for him to go on.