Page 1 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)
M rs. Frogerton waved her lace handkerchief at the departing carriage until it turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Her smile faltered as she lowered her hand.
“I’ve never been so pleased to see someone leave before in my life.”
“That’s quite understandable, ma’am.” Miss Caroline Morton shut the door of the rented house in Half Moon Street and gestured for her employer to proceed her up the stairs. “The last few weeks have been exceptionally busy, what with the wedding and everything surrounding it.”
Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “Two years, lass, two years of my life stuck in London waiting for Dotty to make up her mind and marry her viscount.”
“I suspect she enjoyed being part of the social whirl, ma’am,” Caroline suggested. “And I applaud her for waiting to make certain that her feelings for the viscount were strong enough to translate into a good marriage.”
“Her feelings had nothing to do with it,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “It took me that long to negotiate the marriage contract. They might be peers of the realm, Caroline, but the dowager countess and her lawyers haggled like fishwives over every penny.”
Mrs. Frogerton sat in her favorite chair and reached down to pet her dogs. She wore a morning gown in bronze silk that complemented her dark eyes and chestnut hair. She’d had her children at a relatively young age and still retained her youthful complexion and intense curiosity about life.
To be fair, at this particular moment, she did look rather worn down.
Caroline hoped that with Dorothy off on her extended honeymoon, her employer would have plenty of time to recuperate before she decided to return home to run her many businesses.
Whether Caroline accompanied her was still not settled.
“I’ll ring for some tea, ma’am,” Caroline said.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Frogerton looked over at her. “And thank you for your support with Dotty. I don’t think I would’ve managed without you.”
“You would have managed perfectly,” Caroline countered. “You are very well equipped to do so.”
Mrs. Frogerton waved the compliment aside. “In business, yes, but dealing with the social niceties of peers and the snobs of society is not my strength, though it is yours.”
Caroline smiled. She’d grown up the daughter of an earl, and the subtle nuances of society had been drummed into her from the day she was born.
If her father hadn’t disgraced his family name and left her and her sister, Susan, destitute and dependent on the charity of others, she would’ve been married herself by now, presiding over a large household and probably a titled husband.
Instead, she had to earn her living and help others achieve what should have been her birthright while the ton pretended she didn’t exist. At first, Dorothy, the well-dowered daughter of an industrialist, hadn’t been willing to listen to Caroline’s advice.
She’d learned to consider Caroline an ally only when she realized how invaluable her knowledge was in navigating the intricacies of the ton .
And now Dorothy was a viscountess, and Caroline still earned her living while hoping the small inheritance from her aunt would mature enough to offer her security in her old age. …
“Did it make you feel regretful?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.
Guiltily, Caroline wondered if Mrs. Frogerton had been reading her thoughts. “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to, ma’am.” The butler set the tea tray in front of her.
“The wedding. Seeing all those fancy folk in the pews watching my Dotty get married to a viscount.”
“Am I regretful I’m no longer a part of society? Or that I haven’t married?” Caroline shook her head. “Not particularly.”
Mrs. Frogerton winked at her. “Easy for you to say, lass, when you know Inspector Ross and Dr. Harris would marry you in a second.”
“Dr. Harris does not have the means to take on a wife.” Caroline poured the tea and took Mrs. Frogerton a cup. “And we are just friends.”
“And Inspector Ross?” Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “Although between his work and his brother’s bad behavior, he’s hardly had a moment to spare to go courting.”
Caroline had seen Inspector Ross at Dorothy’s elaborate wedding when he’d come to represent his father, but they’d barely had a moment to exchange a word.
His older brother’s wild excesses were putting an immense strain on his aristocratic family.
All the inspector’s free time was taken up by the matter.
Having watched her own father struggle with his demons, Caroline had nothing but sympathy for the inspector, especially knowing how hard he had fought to stay out of family politics.
“How is his brother doing?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.
“Richard is still alive.” Caroline grimaced as she sat down. “But he seems determined to try every means possible to end his earthly existence. Recently, Inspector Ross had to physically restrain him from drinking an entire bottle of brandy at breakfast.”
“Many gentlemen drink to excess.”
“Not as much as Richard.”
“If he does succeed in doing a mischief to himself, Inspector Ross will be his father’s heir, yes?”
Caroline shuddered. “I think that’s the last thing he wants, but even if he never takes up the title, it will still be his.”
“I don’t think he’d be able to work at Great Scotland Yard anymore,” Mrs. Frogerton observed, “when he’d have a seat in the House of Lords.”
“It would be only a hereditary title, ma’am. He wouldn’t sit in the Lords until he succeeded his father.”
“These titles are so confusing, Caroline. Why have them when they have no particular value at all?” Mrs. Frogerton shook her head. “It makes little sense to me.”
“I suspect they matter to the standing of the families involved, but I do take your point,” Caroline said. “And in Inspector Ross’s case, having that empty title would be such a waste of his abilities.”
“I’m sure he could use those in politics, my dear. We could do with a few more sane voices in Parliament.”
Mrs. Frogerton was an avid reader of the newspapers and, as a business owner, had strong opinions about how the current government was performing and no hesitation in expressing them to anyone who cared to listen.
The butler came back with the afternoon post on a silver tray and presented it to Mrs. Frogerton. She thanked him and started sorting through the pile. “I’m surprised we’re still being invited to things now that Dotty and her fortune are no longer available.”
“As I’ve always told you, ma’am, you are a valued guest in your own right.”
Mrs. Frogerton snorted and held out a letter. “There’s one for you, my dear.”
“Thank you.” With a jolt of hope, Caroline took the letter and examined it carefully. There was no return address, but she already knew it wasn’t from the one person she most wanted to write to her.
“Have you heard from your sister yet, lass?” Mrs. Frogerton asked gently.
“No.” Caroline stared down at the unopened letter and swallowed hard.
“I’ve had nothing since her first letter telling me she had arrived safely in Maryland.
If she doesn’t provide me with a forwarding address, I can send letters only via the ship’s captain and hope someone picks them up at the port and delivers them to her. ”
Susan’s decision to leave England when she turned eighteen and live with her cousin Mabel in America had devastated Caroline.
Despite all her pleading, Susan had never forgiven Caroline for separating her from Mabel in the first place and was determined to depart with her inheritance in hand.
In the end, Caroline had given in and allowed her sister to leave, but it had been the hardest decision of her life.
The lack of knowing how Susan was fairing was a constant, nagging ache.
She opened her letter and read it carefully, a frown gathering on her brow. “It’s from my family’s solicitor.”
“Good Lord, what’s wrong now?” Mrs. Frogerton asked. “I thought you’d taken all your personal business to my Mr. Lewis.”
“I have, ma’am, but Mr. Potkins still deals with the Morton family estate. He says someone has written to him claiming to be the next Earl of Morton.”
“And what does that have to do with you?” Mrs. Frogerton sniffed. “Your family scarcely deserve your attention.”
“He’s asking for my help.”
“What a nerve! After the bungling of your affairs he and his colleagues made, he hardly deserves your notice, let alone your assistance.”
“The gentleman’s mother made the claim. Mr. Potkins and the College of Arms are investigating its validity. In the meantime, Mr. Potkins would like me, as the only living representative of the Morton family in England, to meet with these people, preferably at Morton House.”
Mrs. Frogerton frowned. “I thought Morton House had been sold off.”
“I originally thought that, too, ma’am, but apparently because of the terms of the entail, the property couldn’t be sold outright. As far as I understand it, Coutts Bank paid off the debts and currently hold the house in trust for the next earl.”
“They probably paid pennies for it,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “And intend to sell it back to the earl at a vastly inflated price.”
“Considering my father owed them thousands when he died, I can’t say I blame them.”
“Perhaps we should pay the house a visit. Has it been let to tenants in the last few years?”
“I’m not sure.” Caroline stared at her employer. “I thought you said this was none of my business.”
Mrs. Frogerton, who had notably brightened, made a dismissive gesture. “The least we can do is take a look, Caroline. It would only be right.”
Pleased to see that her employer had cheered up, Caroline decided that a closer inspection of Morton House might do them both good. Mrs. Frogerton would enjoy the outing, and Caroline could lay some old ghosts to rest.