Page 14 of The Incident at Ingleton (Beau Monde Secrets #3)

T he Monday after the fire, Walter devoted the afternoon to answering letters. Since Inglewhite used the library for his work, Walter took over the green salon. Ivy assured him that no one used the room during Robbie’s afternoon nap. Its first story location meant that it was in a quieter part of the castle. The distant sound of birdsong from the garden provided a soothing backdrop for his work.

Which made it all the more startling when the butler, Gibson, scratched at the door. Before Walter could answer, Gibson entered the room bearing a calling card.

“Hmm?” Walter looked up and blinked. He’d spent nearly an hour focusing on crossed-over letters, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

“Lady Hester Bracknell to see you, sir,” Gibson informed him.

“To see me ?” Walter repeated, startled. Proper young ladies did not call on young gentlemen. Not even if their older brothers were married to the gentlemen’s cousins. That was a tenuous connection, at best.

“Yes, sir. She says there is something she wishes to discuss with you. Privately.” Gibson’s face conveyed stern, silent disapproval as only a well-trained butler can.

“Very well. You may show her in.” He put his quill back in the penholder and set aside the letter he’d been drafting.

He rose to his feet as Lady Hester walked into the room. She shut the door behind her, leaving them alone in the room. Walter wanted to protest that this was all most irregular. They ought not be in a room alone! But she knew the rules as well as he did, if not better. She must have a reason for breaking them.

Lady Hester came to a stop some two yards away from him. “Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Haworth. You are probably surprised to see me.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “I am.” If anything, he would have expected Lady Hester to be leery of being in a room alone with a man, after her experience with Neville Butler. “Is there some way in which I can help you?”

She cleared her throat. “Actually, I believe there may be a way I can help you .” She opened her reticule and pulled out a piece of paper, folded into thirds. “But first, I have a bit of a confession to make.” She lowered her eyes, looking unexpectedly bashful.

“Oh?” Walter hoped his voice sounded encouraging and non-judgmental, but he mostly just felt confused. What could she possibly need to confess? “Would this be easier if you sat down?”

“Ah, maybe.” Lady Hester sat on the least-comfortable looking chair in the room. She sat with her hands neatly folded, her feet flat on the floor, and her back not touching the chair back. She looked as prim as the deportment instructor at a girl’s finishing school.

Lady Hester drew a deep breath and announced, “I am afraid that the other day, I happened to overhear a conversation between you and my brother that I ought not have heard.”

Conversation? Walter rifled through his memories, trying to recall any conversations with Frank that Lady Hester could have overheard. The last time he’d seen her brother had been on Friday... oh . He caught his breath sharply as he remembered what they’d talked about that day.

“You probably have many questions—” he began to say, but she interrupted him with a raised hand and a shake of her head.

“It sounds as if what I heard was supposed to be kept secret, so I will not ask any questions. But I did wonder if you could use a note in Mr. Butler’s writing, one that includes numbers as well as letters.”

A jolt of excitement set Walter’s heart skipping. He leaned forward eagerly. “You have a note from him? And you’re sure it’s his writing?” It wouldn’t do to mistakenly use someone else’s writing for comparison.

“Very certain. He put this note in a book he gave me.” Pale pink tinted her cheeks, but she handed the note to Walter without further comment.

Yes, the note was signed “Neville Butler,” and as Lady Hester had promised, it included numerals as well as letters. Page numbers, Walter saw, listing Butler’s supposedly favorite poems by Miss Grammar.

“Do the two of you often talk about poetry, then?” He spoke without thinking, and felt immediately embarrassed. It was none of his business who Lady Hester spoke to or what she discussed!

Though if they’d been in the habit of corresponding with each other about books, that might account for Butler’s belief that Lady Hester would accept his offer. An unmarried lady was not supposed to exchange letters with an unmarried gentleman unless the two of them were betrothed.

“I wouldn’t say often.” Lady Hester sounded cross. “I talked about the work of Miss Grammar once or twice, and he bought me a copy of her newest book of poetry.” She stared down at her own hands. “I wasn’t certain, then, whether he meant it in the light of a courtship present, though in hindsight I wish I’d simply rejected the book. I ought not have accepted a gift from him. It may have given him... encouragement.”

“No amount of encouragement justifies a man in trying to compromise a woman in order to make her marry him.” There were simply some things a gentleman should never do!

Thinking of propriety and compromise, though, reminded Walter that he’d been alone in a room with Lady Hester for too long. He glanced nervously at the closed door, then back at her. “I thank you for this note,” he began, “but—”

The door swung open to reveal the very last person Walter wanted to see: Neville Butler himself. How long had he been outside the door? Had he overheard any of the conversation? Walter prayed that even if Butler had overhead anything, he would be unable to figure out why Walter wanted a sample of his handwriting.

Butler looked from Walter to Lady Hester and raised his eyebrows. “Am I interrupting something? My apologies. I had a question for Mr. Haworth, but I can return when you’ve finished your private conversation.” In his sneering mouth, otherwise innocuous words became laden with innuendo.

“Actually, I was just about to leave. Thank you, Mr. Haworth, for your sage advice.” Lady Hester rose from her chair, as elegant and cool as she had ever been. One would never have been able to tell from her face that only a few minutes ago she’d been blushing as she confessed to overhearing a private conversation.

“You are very welcome, my lady,” Walter replied.

Butler held the door open for her, and then stepped into the room. He took a seat without having been invited to do so and leaned back in the chair, as if prepared for a comfortable chat. Only the obnoxiously knowing smirk on his face indicated that he wasn’t here for a pleasant social visit.

Walter clenched his hands into fists, wishing he could wipe the smirk off Butler’s face. Instead, he asked, “Was there something I could help you with, Mr. Butler?” Unfortunately, Walter lacked Lady Hester’s acting ability. His irritation seeped into his voice.

Butler’s smile deepened in response, as if Walter’s anger amused him. “I wanted to have a word with you about the incident at Lady Hester’s birthday party.”

Walter quietly seethed. How could Butler mention that incident so casually? He had nearly ruined the life of a genteel young lady. Though rarely a violent man, Walter wrestled with the desire to plant the scoundrel a facer.

A few deep breaths calmed him enough to speak. “What exactly do you wish to say about that incident?”

“I hope we are in agreement that there is no need to speak about that night to anyone else. Though merely a misunderstanding, it was understandably painful to Lady Hester, and I believe it would be in her best interest not to worry the rest of her family with the details. Wouldn’t you agree?” Butler’s smile would have appeared benevolent if Walter hadn’t known the truth about his attempted coercion.

Walter stared at the curate, hating his smug smile, his air of assurance, and the fashionable tie of his cravat. If Butler was so desperate for money, how did he afford such fashionable clothing? Probably, Walter concluded, Butler’s expensive taste in menswear accounted for his need to marry well.

“I don’t think we are in agreement on this matter.” Walter spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully. “If you ask me, Lord and Lady Reading have a right to know about your attempt to compromise their daughter. In fact, you’re fortunate not to have been called out for your actions.”

Butler chuckled softly, though there was no real mirth in the sound. “And who would challenge me to a duel? Lord Reading is an invalid who rarely leaves home, Lord Francis is a man of the cloth, and I doubt any gentleman would accept a challenge from Lord Crowthorne after the way he fled England in disgrace.”

Why had Lord Crowthorne fled the country? Walter pushed the question aside. It wasn’t important now. What was important was making it clear to Neville Butler that Lady Hester was not without friends.

“I believe you’ve forgotten that Lady Hester has other family members,” Walter pointed out. “Her cousin is married to the Earl of Inglewhite, after all.” Not that Inglewhite would ever agree to a dawn meeting. “Her parents have not left her unprotected.”

To Walter’s surprise, Butler replied with a snort. “Cousin? You mean the previous marquis’s by-blow? She did well for herself in snagging a prime catch like Inglewhite, but she doesn’t have enough social credit to spare any for Lady Hester.”

Walter gritted his teeth and clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his skin. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that Lady Inglewhite is also my cousin, and that you are a guest in her home. I must ask you not to disparage her in my presence.”

Once again, Butler smirked at him. He seemed pleased to have rattled Walter. “My apologies, Mr. Haworth. I intended no offense. I’m sure that in their own social circles, the Haworths are just as proud of their name and reputation as any aristocrat could be. But I fear that allying themselves with the Bracknell family will not add to their credit the way they may have hoped.”

Walter’s frown deepened. He wanted to argue that Butler had clearly misunderstood the situation. Rose’s marriage to Lord Francis Bracknell had been a love match, as ought to be obvious to anyone who’d observed the two of them together. And there weren’t any other Haworths attempting to “ally themselves” with the Bracknells, or any other aristocrats, for that matter!

Unless Butler thought Walter was courting Lady Hester? Walter drew in a sharp breath as he realized that probably was what Butler imagined. The curate had just interrupted Walter in a private conversation with Lady Hester. From the outside, that might very well look more like courtship, or even seduction, than the collaboration it really was.

Walter longed to angrily protest that he, unlike Butler, was not in the market for an aristocratic bride. He wasn’t looking for a wife at all! And if he had been on the hunt for a bride, he would’ve looked for her among his own circle of acquaintances. Between his father’s old business contacts and the people Walter met through managing the Haworth philanthropies, he had plenty of social connections of his own. He had no need to insinuate himself into a noble family.

Even so, Walter did his best to control his anger. “I think you have misunderstood the situation. Lady Hester and I were merely discussing a mutual acquaintance.”

Butler raised his eyebrows. “If you so say.” That damnable mocking smirk twisted the corner of his mouth up again. “So, are we in agreement that you will not tell anyone about my failed proposal last week?”

Walter’s mouth fell ajar. Failed proposal? Was that what he called it? “No,” Walter replied. “I will not agree to that. I will pass that information on to anyone whom I believe has a right to know it.” For instance, Butler’s future employers, or any young ladies who had the misfortune to become the object of his unwanted attentions.

The smile fell away from Butler’s face. “That’s how you want to play this, is it? Noted. I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Haworth.”

Butler rose to his feet, turned on his heel, and exited the room, leaving Walter with a cold, sick feeling of anxiety. He had no idea what Butler meant, but he knew whatever he had in mind for Walter, it wouldn’t be good.