Page 24 of To Heal a Broken Earl (The Rakes of Mayhem #7)

The next day

“The stonemasons have repaired the worst parts of the wall that were crumbling,” Michael said, pointing to three different sections on the drawings he’d laid out on the billiard table.

“Good idea to add five feet in height,” Wright said. “It’ll provide more privacy as well as deterrence. Like you, I’m hoping the project will be completed quickly.”

“Indeed,” Michael said. “They are working swiftly and efficiently. Thank you for recommending Bradford.”

“He’s exceptional, and his apprentices are as hardworking as he is,” Wright agreed.

“My lords, forgive the intrusion,” Stanhope said from the open wall panel that connected the gaming room to the study.

Michael looked up from the plans and stood. “Not a problem, Stanhope.”

“Lord Wright, your aunt, Lady Margaret Chipperly, has arrived along with a Mr. Craig Burns.”

Michael glanced at Wright. “This should be interesting,” he quipped, arching a brow.

Wright groaned in frustration, raking his hands through his hair. “I love my aunt dearly, but she just can’t resist interfering. She said nothing when we discussed Mr. Burns’s coming to interview Lady Emma and Katie,” he said.

“One might think she feels a sense of ownership.” Michael snickered, clearly amused. “Show them to the drawing room, Stanhope, and please inform Lady Emma. We’ll be there shortly.”

Emma hadn’t said a word to Michael since he had spoken so ruthlessly to her in the stable.

She had avoided him at dinner, sending Stanhope word that she was turning in early and choosing to have dinner in her room.

This morning, she’d avoided the breakfast room as well.

Michael had been tempted to knock on her door to apologize and beg her forgiveness.

But Wright had arrived back from checking on his ship and his men and they’d thrown themselves into a discussion on the plans for the walls and other necessary repairs around the estate.

They hadn’t expected the artist to arrive until tomorrow.

Clearly, Lady Chipperly had hurried things along.

He still needed to apologize to Emma, but it would be even more difficult with a house full of people.

“Very good, my lord. I will ask Mrs. Peppers to prepare tea and a light repast,” the retainer said, his lips twitching as he turned to leave, uncharacteristically trying to hide a smile.

“Is your aunt by chance acquainted with Lady Beadle?” Michael asked his friend as he began to roll up the designs they had been examining.

“Are they acquainted ?” Wright snorted. “They are lifelong rivals. Ever since their first London Season forty-five years ago!”

“Well, we might have a bit of a conundrum, then,” Michael said.

“Why?”

“Armstrong sent word last evening that he’d just arrived at his estate along with Celia and Lady Beadle. They plan to stop by today to update us on the investigation.”

“Good God!” Wright replied, running his hands through his hair again. “This has disaster written all over it.”

“I’m certain that both Lady Beadle and Lady Chipperly understand the importance of the situation.”

“Would you like to wager on that?”

Michael chuckled. “No, my friend. But I think between all of us, we can keep them from dueling on the front lawn.”

~*~

“Welcome, Lady Chipperly,” Michael said a few minutes later after Wright had made the introductions. “Wright has told me a great deal about you.” Michael smiled as he lifted her gloved hand and kissed it. “I feel as though I already know you.”

“Please, call me Aunt Chippie!” the older woman gushed.

“Aunt Chippie, this is a surprise,” Wright said. “I thought you were spending a few days entertaining your friend Julia.”

“Humph! That woman…” Aunt Chippie frowned. “Julia and I had words, and she left to return to London a few days early.”

Wright exchanged an amused look with Michael over his aunt’s head.

“It was all for the best in any case, wasn’t it, dear Mr. Burns?” she said with a flirtatious smile at the artist, who looked to be about twenty years younger.

“Quite right, my lady.” Burns smiled at Aunt Chippie.

Michael noted it was a polite and somewhat patient smile. Burns appeared to be a respectful man with no ulterior motives. Wright had told him he had already looked into the artist’s background and found him to be completely genuine and truly dedicated to his art.

“Of course, I insisted that Mr. Burns use my carriage rather than the stagecoach. And then I had the most brilliant idea. All very last-minute, you see. I thought that I might be of some use or assistance. At the very least, I could provide feminine guidance to your lovely young guests. I do hope I am not de trop , am I?”

“On the contrary, my lady, you are most welcome. I have already instructed Stanhope to prepare two guest rooms.” Michael smiled.

“Oh, you are most kind, Lord Wilton.”

“Please call me Michael, my lady.”

“Well, you must call me Aunt Chippie.”

“Thank you, Aunt Chippie,” Michael said.

“How did you find the journey here, Aunt?” Wright asked.

“Quite comfortable, nary a bump in the road. Was that not so, Mr. Burns?”

“Indeed, the journey was most comfortable, thanks to Lady Chipperly’s generosity,” the artist said with a smile.

“But truthfully, I am eager to begin. When Lord Wright spoke to me of the gravity of this matter, along with the delicacy of a child being involved as a witness, I said yes, immediately. I am at your service, my lords. If you’ll show me where you’d like me to set up, I can begin as soon as it’s convenient for you. ”

“Perhaps by the window?” Michael suggested.

Burns turned to regard the large picture window where sunlight streamed in. “Yes, it will afford us plenty of light. If you will allow me to retrieve my tools from the carriage.”

“Of course,” Michael said, nodding at one of the footmen to assist the artist.

He stopped speaking as Lady Beadle and the Armstrongs entered the room.

The footman returned a few minutes later carrying an easel, followed by Burns, who carried a large sketchpad and a box of what no doubt contained charcoal and other accoutrements of his craft.

As Michael directed them to the window, he heard a familiar, melodious voice, and turned to see Emma enter the drawing room, holding Katie’s hand.

Stanhope must have told her the artist had arrived, given the stoic look on her face and her squared shoulders.

Katie tugged on her aunt’s hand. The child was trembling.

Emma crouched and spoke softly to her niece.

Katie nodded and gave her a tremulous smile.

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Emma hug the little girl.

He’d worried about the effect this exercise would have on Katie, having to relive that horrific night when they’d barely escaped with their lives.

The child hadn’t had a nightmare in several days, but after this, would she experience a setback? His heart wrenched at the thought.

Michael made a move toward them, but in the same moment, Aunt Chippie turned and let out a squeal of delight. “Oh, what darlings!” she exclaimed as she hurried toward Emma and Katie.

Wright glanced at Michael with an arched brow, and Michael nodded for him to make the introductions.

After that was done, Emma and Katie sat on armchairs that had been placed in front of the window next to Burns, who sat with his back to the window, facing his easel. A small table had been placed next to the easel, holding the box of drawing tools.

Emma had been polite but cool toward Michael. Of course, he deserved it, given that he’d behaved like an ass. But what caused his heart to hurt was seeing her eyes slightly red and swollen. She’d been crying, and it was his fault. He wanted to do something, but this wasn’t the time.

Aunt Chippie was perched on an armchair that she insisted be placed next to the artist. Despite Wright’s attempts to encourage her to sit on the settee, she had insisted on seating herself beside Burns. “I might be able to offer some guidance, you see,” she said.

Burns did not seem to mind and appeared intently focused on his work. Michael suppressed a smile as he realized the artist probably had a great deal of patience for Aunt Chippie, given that she was his greatest patron and had no doubt helped him gain many new clients.

“My lord, Lord and Lady Armstrong and Lady Beadle have arrived,” Stanhope said as he entered, and then stepped aside to admit the trio.

Aunt Chippie gasped as she turned to the new arrivals.

“Fancy seeing you here, Chippie. I thought you couldn’t bear to leave your beloved Brighton?” Lady Beadle said.

“Millie, I see you haven’t lost your penchant for insults. I am here to offer my assistance.”

Michael and Wright quickly stepped into the fray, greeting their friends warmly and explaining the situation.

Lady Beadle and Celia hugged Emma and Katie warmly.

“I’m so happy to see you both,” Lady Beadle said. “How are you faring?”

“Very well,” Emma said, smiling down at Katie.

Katie hugged her doll close to her chest and gave a shy smile.

“I am glad we arrived when we did,” Lady Beadle said.

Armstrong pulled Michael and Wright aside to his study for a private chat, away from Emma and Katie.

“The fire at Lady Beadle’s seems to have been deliberately started,” he explained.

“I saw a few people hanging around, but they were probably just curious. Most of the crowd jumped in to help quickly. There’s a chance he was involved, but it doesn’t match his usual arson style.

The fire was quite small, and I think if he did start it, he was after something.

Since it was set in the carriage house and was quickly extinguished. ”

“I’d like to delay telling Emma until later, and certainly not in front of Katie,” Michael said.

“I agree,” Armstrong said. “I’ve already asked Celia and Lady Beadle not to speak of it here, especially not with Katie around.”

Once they had agreed, the three men returned to join the ladies.