Page 23 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Then he’d returned to Risley Manor, demanding another attempt at an heir.
“I lost another child.”
She’d wished for death herself then.
“While I was recovering, I removed myself to Bluebelle Lodge, and he returned to his earlier interests in London.”
Where he’d abandoned the aristocratic widows and adulterous wives and pursued not just the opium but other sorts of delights in the more specialized brothels that offered women more adventurous than Blythe. She couldn’t tell her little brother about that.
“We… we weren’t much together after that. He was in London where his needs were more readily met, and then he decided to…”
He’d appeared with his doxy at Risley Manor, where it was easier for him and his friends to carry on outside the scrutiny of polite society.
“He found a way to accommodate his needs at Risley Manor. His gentlemen friends used to come down for hunting parties and such. I stayed at Bluebell Lodge.”
“I see.” He glanced out the window, but she could tell he wasn’t looking at the passing scene.
“Just how badly did these gentlemen friends importune you, Blythe?”
A tremble went through her and she fought for an even tone. “Any importuning was in their imaginations.” Oh, they’d tried. “The servants were loyal to me.”
She’d worked hard to win that loyalty. She’d forged a bond with Mr. Stockwell, the steward, a man as morally strict as the grandparents who’d raised Archie, a man with a much stronger sense than Archie of what a landholder owed to his servants and to the people who worked his land. The steward might have robbed Archie blind, so malleable was her foolish husband. He’d seen what Archie was, and it had taken much persistence on her part to have Stockwell accept that she was more honorable than her husband.
Together, she and Stockwell had made a plan. They’d sent the youngest servants, both males and females, off to other positions with good references, and then hired the oldest servants of good character they could find to replace them. They’d seen to it the staff were well paid for their loyalty to Blythe.
Her own maid, Louisa Miller, had needed to leave as well. She married Stockwell’s son and moved to Bluebell Lodge, where she served as housekeeper while her husband managed the farm. Miller’s aunt, Mrs. Radley, stepped in as Blythe’s lady’s maid. Radley had a tolerable sense of fashion, enough for Blythe’s needs. Most importantly, she was older and a soldier’s widow, one who’d followed the drum and would never be cowed by men behaving badly.
“You’re not without a defender now, Blythe.” Will’s mouth tightened.
Alarmed, she grabbed his chin and turned his face toward her. They’d rounded a corner into Grosvenor Square and would arrive home in mere moments. “You are not to engage in any foolish duels. Do not even think of it.”
“You’re my sister,” he said. “If I can’t fight for your honor, tell me what I can do to help.”
She squeezed her eyes shut on incipient tears. Crying wouldn’t do—it would only incite him to make a foolish challenge.
As the carriage pulled up in front of Chilcombe House, she arranged her careful mask of indifference. “Don’t concern yourself a bit. I have all under control. Your mere presence is balm to my soul. Not that I expect you to be tied to my apron strings, no.” She smiled and then an idea occurred to her. The search for Lunetta Casale had proven unfruitful, not the least because Bobby, the boy she’d employed, had difficulty accessing the places where the woman might be.
“I expect you to go out and carouse with your friends, Will. No duels, of course. There is one person of interest you might keep an eye out for.”
The carriage door swung open. “I must go and change. Come and see me later,” she said, “before you go out again. I’ll give you the details then.”
* * *
Upstairs in her bedchamber, she found Radley seated near the fire, mending the lace trim of an unfamiliar purple gown.
“Shall we be moving house today, my lady?” Radley asked by way of greeting.
“Not yet. That gown isn’t one of mine, I think.”
“You think right. It’s Lady Hermione’s. I saw the rip and offered my help. She hasn’t brought along a lady’s maid.”
Blythe stripped off her spencer and settled onto the opposite chair. “Very generous of you. Is she back yet from visiting Lady Loughton?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I’ll just be a moment and then help you out of that dress. While you were gone, you had callers. Adwick turned them away. The earl returned not fifteen minutes before you, looking as grim as Wellington after he lost Burgos, the footman said. Went straight to his study.”
She almost smiled at Radley’s editorial addition—Wellington at Burgos. The footman had not been in the army and was not the sort to follow military news in that close detail. “Did you learn where he went this morning?” She had seen Graeme briefly in the breakfast room. He’d gone out before she’d even had a chance to fill her plate.
“The Foreign Office, the stable lad said.”
