Page 25 of To Heal a Broken Earl (The Rakes of Mayhem #7)

Aunt Chippie and Lady Beadle were both staring daggers at each other.

“I heard that the widow, Lady Chapin, is marrying Lord Bucknell. He was best friends with Arthur, was he not?” Aunt Chippie asked.

“I would hardly say they were friends,” Lady Beadle said with a huff.

“ My dearest Author was a man of great intellect and was hardly friends with Lord Bucknell, who spends most of his days gambling, when he’s not chasing wealthy widows.

I heard he’d gone to Brighton for several weeks to pay you court, dear Chippie.

” Lady Beadle flippantly pointed her cane at Chippie.

“That is a lie. I would never allow myself to be courted by the likes of Lord Bucknell. Now, Arthur, on the other hand, was a true gentleman and courted me for several months before you lured him away.”

Lady Beadle gasped at the insult. “Lured him away? I beg your pardon. My dear Arthur had eyes for me and only me ever since my debut in Society. And you should remember that, since it was the Everly ball that was your debut as well.”

“Ha! So, you say,” Aunt Chippie snapped back. “But I recall something entirely different, a bouquet of flowers that Arthur brought me the next day.”

“You created a fantasy in your mind, dear Chippie. Firstly, I asked Arthur to give you flowers so that you wouldn’t be hurt by all the bouquets that I received from my admirers.”

“Oh, that is low, even for you, Millie,” Aunt Chippie countered.

“And secondly, he brought you flowers…once,” Lady Beadle continued. “Your house was on the way to my house. It was the day after our debut. That was all. He was merely dropping off the flowers on his way to my house. He told me. Besides, they were pink snapdragons.”

Aunt Chippie’s eyes widened. “He told you that he brought me snapdragons?”

“Of course… And you do know what snapdragons stand for, don’t you?” At Chippie’s silent frown, Lady Beadle continued. “They stand for deviousness. Even my dear Arthur had you pegged,” she concluded in a tone that brooked no forbearance.

“Oh! Is that what you think? I’ll have you know they also mean grace and strength—two things that I have in abundance,” Aunt Chippie returned.

“There’s quite a history between these two,” Michael overheard Celia whisper to Emma as the two dowagers traded insults.

“They were friends once, but they became bitter rivals after their come-out. Lord Arthur Beadle did send flowers to both, as well as several other young ladies. Ultimately, it was my aunt whom he pursued. Other young men were competing for their affections, yet it was Uncle Arthur who captured my aunt’s heart. ”

“But they are both widows and could use each other’s friendship,” Emma whispered back.

“Yes. Once, they were the best of friends…since leading strings, I understand,” Celia said.

“Perhaps they could be friends once again?” Emma suggested.

“Perhaps we should get started,” Wright and Michael said at the same time. Then they looked at each other with brows raised.

Lord Armstrong cleared his throat. “Lady Chipperly and Lady Beadle—perhaps we should let Mr. Burns begin with his sketch. It could help us in our investigation, which I think we should all keep in mind.”

~*~

“Katie, are you ready to get started?” Emma asked her niece in a gentle voice.

Katie nodded. “I am, Auntie. But is it all right if Finn is with me, too?”

As she asked, Finn trotted into the drawing room and lay down on the floor at her feet.

Michael’s lips twitched at Finn’s show of loyalty and support to the little girl. There was no doubt the dog was crazy about Katie. “You can stay, Finn, if you promise to behave.”

“Woof!” the dog agreed.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Katie,” Burns said, smiling at the child. “That’s a pretty name. Is it short for something?”

Katie was quiet.

“That’s a very nice doll,” he continued, trying again. “What’s her name?”

Katie looked at her doll’s face and kissed her on the nose. “This is Polly. And she’s a very good dolly.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Polly. Would it be all right if I asked for your help?”

Katie held Polly up to her ear and then nodded solemnly. “Polly said she would like to help.”

“Thank you, Polly,” Burns said in a gentle voice. “Polly, do you recall seeing a stranger the night of that fire at your house?”

Katie held Polly up again to her ear, then she turned and whispered in the doll’s ear. “Polly said she remembers seeing a man in the yard. Someone she had never seen before. We call him the bad man.”

“I see,” Burns said. “Can you ask Polly if she remembers what color the bad man’s hair was?”

Katie consulted the doll once more and then said, “It was dark.”

“Thank you. And was his hair curly or straight?” Burns asked.

“Polly said curly.”

“Very good. And can you ask Polly if he had big, round eyes or small, beady eyes?”

Once again, Katie answered on behalf of her doll.

Michael was impressed by the artist’s thoughtful approach with Katie. He continued to ask simple questions about each feature, and Katie continued to answer on behalf of Polly.

It took almost an hour of gentle patience, but Burns finally completed the sketch.

Emma asked Katie if she would like to visit Mrs. Peppers in the kitchen for a treat. Katie nodded and smiled, hugging Polly close to her.

“Can Finn come too?” she asked.

Emma looked at Michael, who smiled. “Yes, of course Finn can go too. I’m sure he would enjoy a treat, wouldn’t you, boy?” He scratched his dog behind the ears.

“Doris, could you please take Katie and Finn to the kitchen for a snack?” Emma asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Doris said, taking Katie’s hand. “Come along, dear.”

Katie took a few steps forward, then turned back to Burns. “Polly wants to say thank you, Mr. Burns.”

“You are very welcome, Polly and Katie,” he said warmly.

“I didn’t want to upset Katie by showing her the finished sketch,” Emma explained after Katie and Doris had left.

“But you also got a look at him?” Michael asked.

Emma nodded, biting her lower lip.

Michael clenched his teeth, feeling a deep desire to hold Emma and comfort her.

She was incredibly strong and brave for Katie, yet she was also dealing with her own pain.

The bastard was out there, and Michael was certain of it.

For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, he sensed that Emma was in real danger from this man.

She had seen him, and the arsonist had already taken two lives.

His fires had gotten bigger and deadlier.

Burns spent a few more minutes on the drawing, then said, “May I show you the finished sketch?”

Michael looked at Emma. “Emma?”

She nodded.

“Is this him?” Burns asked, holding the sketchpad up to Emma.

She gasped. “Yes. My God. That is him!” She looked at Michael, her eyes filled with fear, her face so pale that he thought she might faint.

“Water, please,” Michael said, swiftly moving to her side and crouching by her chair. Taking her hand, he chafed it between his own.

Celia poured a glass of water and handed it to Emma. “Take a few sips,” she said gently, taking the empty seat next to her.

Emma sipped the water and then took a slow, deep breath. “I’m all right. Thank you.”

Michael stood and asked to see the sketch. He perused the image but didn’t recognize the man depicted. “Armstrong, Wright, do you recognize him?” He passed the sketch to his friends.

“My God! I do know this man,” Armstrong said. “It’s been nagging at me for a while now.”

“Who is he?” Wright asked.

“May I see?” Lady Beadle said, making her way to their side. Armstrong handed her the sketch. “Good Lord! I know that man. He’s the spitting image of his late father.”

“Wait, allow me,” Aunt Chippie said, clearly not wanting to be left out. “If Millie recognizes him, I will as well.”

Lady Beadle huffed but made room for Aunt Chippie. Armstrong held up the sketch.

“Oh my. Oh dear!” Aunt Chippie said, exchanging a worried glance with Lady Beadle.

“Who is it?” Michael said, his jaw clenched. This was turning into a parlor game.

“Lord Morgrave,” Armstrong said in a grim voice. “I haven’t seen him in at least a year.”

“We knew his father, Viscount Hugh Morgrave,” Lady Beadle said.

“The earl was a very popular man back in the day,” Chippie said. “He was one of the most sought-after bachelors in London. Do you recall, Millie?”

“Many a young lady vied for his attention. Not me, of course.”

“Well, not me, either,” Chippie echoed, flipping open a small fan attached to her wrist and fanning herself. “What no one knew was that he was a gambler who lost his family’s entire fortune. Not only that, but he also frequented many houses of ill repute.”

“What happened to his son?” Wright asked.

“The viscount’s wife took their young son to Scotland to live with her family,” Lady Beadle said. “After they lost the townhouse. They’d already lost all the unentailed properties. Their estate home had been neglected and fell into disrepair.”

“What happened to the viscount?” Emma asked, her voice trembling. Celia wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

Michael wished he could do that for her. He cleared his throat.

Aunt Chippie and Lady Beadle exchanged a glance. “He died destitute at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital of a terrible disease—I’m sure you can guess, which one,” Lady Beadle said gravely.

Syphilis, Michael thought.

Burns handed Michael a second sketch that looked identical to the first one. “I’ll take one of these sketches with me back to London first thing tomorrow and notify all the authorities,” he said, carefully folding the drawing and slipping it into his coat.

“By all accounts, the apple may not have fallen far from the tree,” Lady Beadle said.

“Opium,” Aunt Chippie added.

“We already knew we were dealing with a dangerous man,” Michael said. “Now that we know who he is, we need to find him before he strikes again.”

~*~