Page 29 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
What she must have gone through in her marriage. He wouldn’t believe for a moment that she had done anything nefarious, certainly not murder. But he wasn’t certain he could blame her if she had.
Blythe pushed back the covers and padded to the window, grabbing a lap blanket against the chill.
It had rained all through the last day’s journey and the night. Though the day was gray, she guessed it was long past dawn.
Wrung out by traveling and nerves, she’d slept longer than she meant to.
In the breakfast room, a footman, one of the old retainers who’d held on through the madness, informed her that the earl had breakfasted quite early and gone to visit Mr. Stockwell. The sideboard had been cleared and he hurried to fetch her fresh toast and tea.
“Ah, good morning.” The cheerful greeting came from Hermione. “I broke my fast earlier but I’ll have another cup of tea. Did you hear that downpour last night?”
While Hermione waxed on about the weather and the roads, Blythe buttered her toast.
“Lord Chilcombe was leaving when I came down for breakfast. I told him he ought to rest his mount and let the roads dry, but he insisted he would go.” She smiled over the rim of her cup. “I do like a man of action.”
Despite herself, Blythe felt a blush rising. If she wasn’t mistaken, Hermione was matchmaking.
She ignored the remark. “He was off to find the land steward at his cottage. He told me yesterday he meant to visit the local magistrate as well. So perhaps he’s out touring the estate, or off to visit Mr. Jarrow.”
“Might he have gone to your Bluebelle Lodge?” Hermione asked.
She considered the question. Mr. Stockwell the younger would have all in good order, but she’d like to be there herself to explain the presence of the two children, rather than leaving it to the Stockwells and the nursemaid, Hetty.
“I suppose anything is possible,” she said. “In which case, I must hie myself there this morning to make sure all is well when the lord of the manor pays a call. If you can tolerate the muddy roads, I would welcome your company.”
Hermione smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it, my dear.”
With directions from the head groom and his own patchy memory of the area, Graeme stopped briefly at Stockwell’s cottage, where he found that the steward had gone out to visit one of the tenants but would return midday. The housekeeper promised to pass on the message to Stockwell that Graeme would meet with him that afternoon.
Then he found his way easily enough to Stonebridge Manor, the Jarrows’ estate a short distance from Risley Manor. He met Mr. Edward Jarrow on the lane returning from a morning ride.
He followed Jarrow to the stables, where both men left their mounts, and they entered the house through a side door. Jarrow led him up to the library.
“I am glad to meet you, my lord,” Jarrow said, when both men were seated.
Edward Jarrow was a man of about his own age, or perhaps a little older. Of medium height and average appearance, he had a friendly demeanor and a look of keen intelligence.
“I’m told you replaced your father as magistrate after he fell ill.”
Was he acquainted with the Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire, Wellington, who would have been the man who selected him?
Jarrow waved a hand. “Yes. Coroner as well. When I left the army, my brother was still here. I went north to help a friend who’d inherited an estate. Together we put things there in order.”
And now he was in Hampshire to put things in order here? The stables at Stonebridge Manor and this tidy room appeared up to snuff.
“Did you serve under Wellington?”
“In the Peninsula, and of course, at Waterloo. Not that I was on his staff, but I had occasion to meet him.”
“I served for a time on his staff in Paris after the peace.”
“You shall see him on a different footing when you take your seat in the Lords. Or have you done so already?”
“I just returned to England a few days ago.”
“From America, I read in the newssheets.”
“The far western shores of Canada. Did you fight there?”
