Page 27 of The Lawrence Browne Affair
“He hasn’t laid a hand on me or said a single improper word. And more’s the pity.”
“Janet!”
“Well, who can blame me? He’s handsome as sin, and even if he weren’t, I don’t think I’d care.”
Mrs. Ferris laughed, a warm trill of laughter that Lawrence hadn’t heard since he was a child sneaking down these same stairs to steal jam and cakes. “No better than you ought to be.”
“Bugger ‘ought.’ I’m too bored to be good. I’ve half a mind to crawl into his bed and see what happens.”
“And what would his lordship think if he knew he was harboring such a jezebel under his roof?” But the cook’s voice was indulgent.
“Pffft. His lordship would have to leave his precious tower in order to know about it.”
When Lawrence cleared his throat, the women snapped their gazes to where he stood. “Mrs. Ferris,” he said, interrupting a flurry of curtsies andmy lords. “Have there been any attempts at theft at Penkellis?”
Mrs. Ferris’s expression didn’t falter, but Lawrence saw the maid flick a wary glance in the cook’s direction. “No, my lord,” she said.
“Where are my mother’s jewels?”
“I took the liberty of having all the countess’s jewels sent to the bank in Falmouth for safekeeping.”
He ought to have thought of that himself, but he hadn’t been in any state for practicality after Percy died and the estate passed to Lawrence. “Quite right.” He nodded. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Ferris tucked a strand of hair into her cap. “The Browne silver is locked away in the pantry, but I didn’t bother with the lesser pieces.”
“Why has nobody stolen the, ah, lesser pieces?” This year’s harvest had been abysmal. It would be a hard winter. Why had nobody thought to nip into Penkellis and help themselves to some of what Mrs. Ferris considered mere lesser silver?
“I daresay they didn’t want to cross you, my lord,” Mrs. Ferris said, not meeting his gaze.
“Ha! They have no fond feelings for me, and well you know it.”
Janet made a noise that could have been a giggle or a gasp.
“Out with it, Janet,” he commanded. She stared at him in open-mouthed dismay. “We can stand here all day and look at one another. I have nothing better to do in my precious tower,” he said, and watched with satisfaction as the maid flushed with embarrassment.
“They’re all afraid you’re going to hex them, m’lord.” Her words came out in a high-pitched rush.
“They’re rustic people,” Mrs. Ferris interjected. “You know how they are.”
“I know nothing of them at all.” He hadn’t ever thought to learn anything about them. He had thought it better if they forgot about him entirely. But Halliday had told him of salt sprinkled on windowsills, herbs gathered at midnight. “They think I am like my father and brother. That I will harm them.”
“Certainly not,” Mrs. Ferris protested. She knew all about dangerous lords. She knew altogether too much about lords who took advantage of their servants, and wasn’t that what Lawrence had been contemplating doing to Turner? “You’re nothing like either of them. They were evil, if you don’t mind my saying so, my lord.” She had to know damned well that he didn’t mind, because she didn’t pause for his objection. “And you ought never to have heard anything about village gossip.” She glared at Janet.
He leveled his gaze at Mrs. Ferris. “How is Jamie?” That was Mrs. Ferris’s son.
Lawrence’s nephew.
“Quite well. He’s a midshipman aboard theLancaster, thanks to your lordship’s—”
“Enough.” He wouldn’t have her thanking him for trying to make right what Percy had made wrong. But as he climbed the stairs, Mrs. Ferris’s words echoed in his mind.Nothing like either of them.Turner had said much the same thing. And for the first time, Lawrence wondered if they might be right.
“I’m glad to speak to you alone, Mr. Turner.” The vicar’s voice was stuck on a note of apologetic solicitude. No wonder he didn’t seem to be a particular favorite of Radnor’s. “I hate to put you to the trouble, but I wanted to know how far you’ve gotten in your inquiries.”
Georgie could have said that it was no trouble at all. He had been longing for an excuse to get away from the earl, and passing the time at the Fiddling Fox with Halliday was as good an escape as any. Georgie didn’t trust himself not to leap on Radnor at the first opportunity. He didn’t trust himself to do what needed to be done instead of worrying about Radnor.
He also didn’t trust himself not to hurt Radnor along the way, but that was of no importance, he told himself. He had to keep his priorities straight.
Georgie took a measured sip of his ale. “Lord Radnor is a man of unusual habits,” he said in a voice that made it clear the fault lay with anyone who took issue with the earl’s habits. “He is certainly scatterbrained and inclined to keep odd hours, but no more so than other men of a similarly scientific bent.” Georgie had no idea if this was true but it sounded plausible. Weren’t geniuses infamously eccentric?
