Page 52 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Oh, oh, oh. She blinked back a surge of emotion. Graeme was offering comfort, partnership, perhaps friendship. Or hope.
She closed her eyes and tried to think. If he knew the truth, he would shun her. They weren’t partners. They’d never be friends. The will stood between them—both wills, the old one and the new one. And Lunetta Casale. Even now, Will was in London looking for the woman.
There was no way to know when any of it would be resolved, or in what manner, and she needed to be in London, not in the country fending off gossips and trespassers.
Coralie would love to visit the lending library, and Nicholas would adore seeing the animals at the Tower. If he could stay healthy… and perhaps…
“Lady Loughton gave me the name of a London physician I should like to have examine Nicholas. I haven’t yet been able to arrange for?—”
“We can see to that. Has Nicholas been ill?”
“He suffers quite frequently from fevers and lung congestion.”
“We’ll send for the physician when we arrive in town. And we can begin to think about plans for Coralie’s future.”
We. Nicholas would see a doctor, and bright, beautiful Coralie might have a future—it seemed she would have to trust this new Lord Chilcombe.
She nodded.
“Very well. I propose that we leave early tomorrow morning before anyone has a chance to report it to the residents of Wickworth Hall.”
“Another hurried departure,” Blythe said. “I shall have to send word to my maid to pack my things. And what of Hermione? We shall have quite the squeeze in the traveling chaise.”
“Leave that to me.” He sandwiched her hand between both of his, and she felt herself plummeting into the comfort of his touch and his promises after so many years fending for herself.
A loud knocking brought her to her feet, alarm coursing through her. Bluebelle Lodge did not have regular callers, except for… “We can ignore that caller. Louisa won’t hear the knocking in the kitchen, and the maid has gone back to tidying the upstairs bedrooms.”
Graeme quirked a grin. “Allow me to play butler and send away any disagreeable visitors.”
That grin took her back years, reminding her of the boy he’d once been, and her heart filled with gratitude.
He left, and a few minutes later, returned with Mr. Jarrow.
Graeme had broken his promise to send away a disagreeable visitor. She hid her dismay and managed a courteous greeting.
Chapter Twelve
“I called at Risley Manor,” Mr. Jarrow said, “and was told I would find you here today. Lady Chilcombe, I’ve come to apologize for my mother’s rudeness last night.”
“Have you indeed? That is getting straight to the point.” And she didn’t believe him for a second.
There was a ruggedness to this Mr. Jarrow, and a challenging intelligence in his gaze, that must have cowed the men under his command.
She, however, was not one of his men. She held his gaze and waited.
Graeme cleared his throat, and the other man blinked.
“Yes,” Mr. Jarrow said, “I will make every effort to curb her gossiping, as will my sister. Though in truth that is not the only reason I’ve sought you out. I’d like to ask you some questions about your late husband’s death.”
Tension froze her in place and it was a moment before she could speak. “Are you conducting an official inquiry? Or merely satisfying your curiosity? Or your mother’s?” Her voice quivered on the last question and she struggled for composure.
“I do not report to my mother, Lady Chilcombe.”
She sensed Graeme’s presence next to her. He’d visited Jarrow yesterday. He must have known the man’s intentions.
Jarrow glanced at Graeme, all but confirming her suspicions. She sent Graeme a withering look and stood straighter.
“I have nothing to add to what I told your father last year,” she said. “Did he not leave a report?”
