Page 48 of Their Brazen Countess
She left the breakfast room and went to find her son before her temper got away from her. He was playing quietly by himself overseen by Miss Kelley, the new nursemaid, keeping an eye on him as she straightened up his drawers.
Content that he was well and had breakfast, she headed out. Jo needed to replace a few of the linens she and Mrs. Adams had identified as too worn recently. She had also been intending to select a couple of new gowns, now she was out of mourning.
Jo entered into the linen shop and had selected the new tablecloths and napkins when the clerk leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “I’m afraid your line of credit is late on payment, Lady Whitestone.”
Shocked and terribly embarrassed, Jo’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m sure there is some mistake. I’ll send word around to my man of affairs to ensure you are paid.”
“Of course, my lady,” The man agreed and smiled before he packaged up her purchase.
Next she went to the modiste’s. Jo walked in, ready to forget her worries and do a little shopping. She was busy looking at dress designs in a private sitting room when the owner of the shop stepped inside. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Atwell.”
“And you as well, Lady Whitestone. My condolences again on the loss of your husband,” she murmured in concern.
“Thank you. I was looking to arrange for a few new gowns, now I am out of full mourning.” Jo smiled softly.
“I am excited about the opportunity to dress you again. When do you need the dresses by?” Mrs. Atwell asked, a smile gracing her hawkish features.
“I’d like to have them in two weeks.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s see which designs have caught your eye.”
By the time Jo was done with her errands, all was feeling back to normal in her world. Now she needed to hope that Bernard had vacated her home as requested.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Week Later
LincandArthurstoodin the front salon of Jo’s townhome waiting for her to appear. She walked carefully into the room and smiled warmly at them before closing the door behind her.
Concern reared up in Linc as she flew across the room and into their arms. Smothering her face in Arthur’s chest, Linc pressed against her side and wrapped a comforting arm around her. She wept silently for what felt like an eternity.
Linc swallowed, a little overwhelmed by her seeming grief. “What is wrong, Wood Sprite?”
She lifted her tear-streaked face and offered a tremulous smile. “I’m worried, and was feeling very alone until you two arrived.”
“What has you so concerned?” Arthur asked as he stroked a hand down her spine.
She drew in a deep breath and made to step back from their embrace. They both released her, though Linc took her trembling hands in his and sat with her on the settee. Arthur crowded in on her other side, the three of them buried by her skirts as they crammed on the small piece of furniture that was built for two.
“Take a deep breath and tell us what is going on,” Arthur encouraged again.
Linc darted him a warning look to be less pushy, but he understood the deep-seated desire to fix whatever had upset Jo.
She cast a wary glance toward the door. “It’s…it’s Bernard. My brother-in-law. He has replaced all of my staff with his own hires—I attempted to release the new butler, but was thwarted by the odious man. He suggested the other day that I was not in control of my household any more now than I was when George was alive. I assumed he was being a bully, not that he could actually do anything to control my household.”
“The bloody bastard!” Arthur swore as he rose.
Jo jumped to her feet as well and placed a hand on Arthur’s arm. “Please! You mustn’t be so loud. Someone might very well be listening at the door.” She cast another nervous glance in that direction.
Linc reached out and took her hand, coaxing her back down beside him. “We’ll keep our voices down, Wood Sprite. We should move you and Matthew to Arthur’s townhome immediately.”
“Absolutely!” Arthur agreed.
But Jo shook her head. “No, I shall not give up my son’s birthright. He is the new Lord Whitestone, whether my brother-in-law likes it or not. To move out of this house would be akin to forfeiting everything. Bernard and his loathsome brood would simply move in—he certainly cannot afford to maintain two households. I’m not even sure how he is doing so now. George always grumbled about how his brother was always asking for more allowance.”
Arthur looked over at him. “I wonder where the income for the staff he has hired here has come from?”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that—” Linc was shocked at what he suspected Arthur was alluding to, but a sharp knock sounded and the salon door opened.
