Page 12 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Chapter 3
“Sir. Lord Whiddon. Sir.”
Whiddon groaned and buried his face into his pillow.
“You’ll want to wake up, sir.”
That caught his attention. His valet wouldn’t say such a thing lightly. “Why?” he asked, lifting his head.
“Lord Chester and Mr. Sterne have sent ’round a message. They’ve gone to breakfast at the club and will stop in here afterwards to collect you. Do you recall an appointment with them?”
Squinting into the morning light, Whiddon considered. “Oh, yes. Tattersalls. We’re to look over the latest crop, in search of good bloodstock for Keswick’s new stables.”
“I’ve drawn a bath for you, sir. If you get up now, you can be ready and intercept the gentlemen outside.”
With a groan, Whiddon sat up. His head had surely swollen several sizes larger than normal. He rested it in his hands a moment and winced at the military beat drumming in his temples. What had he done last night? Oh, yes. The Caradecs’ salon. The artist and his unusual wife always hosted a wild evening.
“You don’t wish for the water to grow cold, sir.”
He stumbled into the dressing room and sighed in relief and pleasure as he sank into the steaming water. “Thank you, Chapman. You are a prince among valets. I’m sure I don’t pay you half enough.”
“You pay me very well indeed, sir,” his man answered a bit smugly. “But I am well worth it. Should you doubt it, I will allay your fears by telling you that I stopped atLe Cygnefor those crumpets you like. I shall put them over the fire to toast while you bathe. The coffee is already brewing.”
The hot water had eased the pounding in his head. Whiddon sank down further into the heat and thought he could indeed enjoy a crumpet or two. “Bless you, Chapman.”
His valet truly was a godsend. It was not in the normal realm of duties for a manservant to see to breakfast, but then, this was no usual household. The townhouse was in the fashionable part of town, it was true, but inside it bore little resemblance to its neighbors. The kitchens were in a deplorable state and the rest of the house was little better. But it would take a great deal of work to set it all to rights, and honestly, Whiddon secretly cherished the idea of his father arriving in Town and finding the place in such a state. Just the thought of his reaction was enough to stay his hand.
And so, Chapman maintained Whiddon’s suite of rooms and his own comfortable quarters next door. He existed in an uneasy truce with the few other servants and he saw to it that he and his master both ate decently, at least semi-regularly.
“Your green coat with the buff breeches, sir?” Chapman asked when Whiddon finished bathing and sat down to eat. “Or the blue?”
The blue was decided upon and later, while tying his neckcloth, Chapman cleared his throat. “About that other matter, sir. The one you asked me to look into?”
“Yes. Have you found something on the Comte de Perette?”
“No. That one has proved difficult. I am following up on a lead, though. A possible family member.” He pursed his lips. “I meant the other matter, sir. The girl.”
Whiddon stilled. His heartbeat ratcheted up a bit, and he hoped the valet could not see it. “Yes?”
“I have gleaned a bit of information. Several of Lord Burchan’s footmen tend to patronize a certain tavern, I discovered.”
“Well done, man. What did you find?”
He wanted to know the Mayne girl’s story. He didn’t ask himself why. She interested him. She was different. He wanted to know why. And he had no wish to suffer the endless questions and pointed teasing that were sure to result if he asked his friends what they knew.
“The elder Miss Mayne is the present baron’s elder sister. The younger is the daughter of his deceased younger brother. She and her siblings live with the spinster aunt.”
“Burchan supports them?”
“Barely. The girl apparently received a very small inheritance after her mother’s death. The aunt has a small allowance. According to the servants, they live humbly in a small village, a good piece away from any of the family holdings. Also, according to one of the footmen, the baron is tight-fisted when it comes to money, except when it comes to his own comforts, or to those of his wife and daughter. The servants are not high on his list of priorities and yet they still come in above his sister or his nieces and nephew.”
“So, he’s not sponsoring her come-out at all?”
“Not a bit.”
Whiddon couldn’t help but wonder why. “Is there more to it than his nip-farthing ways, I wonder? Has the girl somehow blotted her copybook?”
“Not according to his people. She’s all a young lady should be, and more popular with the baron’s servants than his own daughter.”
