Page 22 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)
“Can you not wait until the morrow? A full day of travel is surely better than starting out this late in the day.”
He shook his head. “I must away, this very moment. My valet will pack my bags and travel behind me.” He dipped his head to her, and then to her aunt and uncle. “I do apologize, Mrs. Northcott.”
Myra watched as he ran down the pathway that led back to Blackbriar Hall. She looked to her aunt and uncle, and then to the footman, who was still attempting to calm his breathing. “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room for tea?”
* * *
Later that evening, after supper and sitting in the drawing room by herself, Myra wandered into the study. It was strange how deeply she yearned to see Mr. Northcott. He’d been gone only a few short hours, but it was long enough for her to realize she wanted him there, with her.
Walking around the room, she took the opportunity of his absence to examine the study.
This was his hideaway, the section of the house where she could always find him if ever she needed to speak to him.
Running her hand along the desktop, she realized how silly it was that she had avoided her husband since their arrival, only to miss him now that he was gone.
Just as she had convinced herself to go back to the drawing room to sew a bit more before turning in for the night, her eyes fell upon a slender black ledger. She looked to the door, having left it open upon her entry, but the hallway was empty. No one was there to witness her curiosity.
Opening the book, she took a moment to admire the handwriting. Mr. Northcott’s penmanship was refined, evidence of his years at Harrow and Cambridge. Sitting in the chair, she read the first lines of what looked to be an accounting of expenses and deposits.
Each line in the ledger had a detailed description. Expenditures for the estate. Wages paid to the staff. But the curious entries in her estimation were those that held descriptions of a more creative nature. Midnight at Widow’s Hollow, Summertime in Bath, and her favorite, The Amber Light of Love.
Each of those lines were followed by a deposit of funds.
Large amounts that made her wonder what Mr. Northcott was doing to make money.
Were these investments? She looked through more pages to find much the same.
Of course, there were additional line items regarding the estate and the addition of her dowry, followed by entries that suggested the money was not available for spending.
She was following each line item when a throat cleared near the door. Myra’s head shot up as she quickly slammed the book closed. “Mr. Melbourne, I was only—”
“There is a man here to see you, ma’am.” Mr. Melbourne stepped forward, a silver tray in his hand. “I told him you are not at home to visitors, but he insists on using his position and title to gain entrance to the house.”
Myra accepted the calling card. “The Duke of Shomberg?”
Surprised that the duke would travel to Blackbriar Hall to see her, Myra stood and smoothed her dress down and then put a hand to her hair to test her coiffure. She was presentable, or so it seemed. “Where did you leave him?”
“In the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Melbourne. Please have Cook send tea and cakes in. I am certain the duke will enjoy refreshment.”
Myra checked her reflection in a looking glass before she entered the drawing room.
Shomberg stood near the grate, his posture far more comfortable and at ease than she’d expected for a guest. “Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to see you, and in Bardsea of all places.” She motioned toward an overstuffed chair as she took a seat on the sofa.
“Mrs. Northcott, I am happy to be received by you at this late hour.” Shomberg dipped his head and accepted the chair.
“Well, I do hope you had other business in the area. I would not wish for you to have traveled this far to see Mr. Northcott when he is not at home.”
“That is a pity, but I did not come all this way to see your husband.” Shomberg crossed one leg over the other as he pulled a cigar out of his pocket. “Do you mind?”
“My drawing room is no place for the stench of smoke. If you wish to partake, you may do so in the beautiful summer air upon your departure.”
Shomberg laughed as he wagged his cigar at her. “You were always a spitfire. Tell me, has Northcott attempted to tame you, or does he allow you to run wild upon the estate?”
“I assure you, Your Grace, I have never run wild in all my life.” Bristling a little, Myra sat taller.
The assumptions of Society had grated on her nerves when she’d been in London.
She had no desire to allow such rumors to spread in this place she now called home.
No one in this little corner of England would think of her as a madcap. Not if she could help it.
As the maid entered with a tea tray, Myra waited for her to set it on the table and then leave before she poured and offered a cup to the duke. Shomberg took a loud sip and then settled back in his seat once more.
“Mrs. Northcott, I came here in search of Lord Southwood. Do you know where I might find the viscount?”
“I do not, sir. Have you been to Northcott Castle? It is more likely he is there with the earl and countess.”
“Then you have not heard? Surely, Mr. Northcott would have informed you of the situation.”
“My husband left this morning on urgent business, Your Grace. I am unaware of anything that has occurred outside of Blackbriar Hall.”
Shomberg took another sip of tea, his searching gaze roaming about her person as if he could see the truth of her statement. When he was convinced, he stood. “Then I must leave you to your solitude. Forgive my intrusion.”
Without another word, the Duke of Shomberg took his leave. She watched from the doorway as he rode away, the cigar in his mouth lit and a puff of smoke billowing above him as he made his escape.
Myra looked to Mr. Melbourne as he shut the door. “No more visitors for the night, no matter their title or sense of superiority.”
She spent another hour in the drawing room reviewing the curious happenings of the day.
The letter Mr. Northcott had received was urgent, something to do with his brother.
It was worrisome, especially given Shomberg’s visit.
Even though she knew it was Southwood that was in trouble, Myra found her concerns were focused solely upon her husband.
She paced the length of the drawing room, knowing there was nothing she could do stuck at Blackbriar as she was.
She only hoped Mr. Northcott would return, unharmed, before the week was out.