Dudley’s eyes leaped to Miss West.
Tilting his head, Steele exhaled. “Miss West will be joining us, after she’s had an opportunity to change her attire.”
Sir Lee beamed. “Excellent! And when you return, I want to hear all the details of the incident at the park this morning.”
Miss West’s eyes snapped to Steele’s and her lips pursed in obvious irritation. “Certainly. If you will excuse me, my lord?” Each word was laced with frost.
“Of course.”
She left the room, her back as stiff as whalebone, her unspoken rebuke chilling the air.
Steele closed the door a bit harder than he’d meant to behind her. “Why are you here, Sir Lee?”
The old gent’s mask of innocence fell away. “I heard that you’d had an incident and I wanted to check up on things.”
Stepping behind his desk, Steele sat down, the leather of his chair creaking beneath him. “Everything’s fine. No harm was done.” The irony that he was repeating Miss West’s proclamation was not lost on him, but he hardly cared. He hated being checked up on as if he weren’t capable of handling matters.
“Has the footman Claude turned up?”
“No.”
“I’ll get some men on it. I’ll let you know as soon as we find him.” Sir Lee lowered himself into the chair opposite Steele and rested both hands on his gold-topped cane. “I understand that Miss West dove into the water and saved the lad. Were it not for her…”
Rubbing his hands over his eyes, Steele tried not to let the fear gnawing at his guts affect him. “I wasn’t quite clear on that part. I was more focused on how Seth fell in, in the first instance.”
Sir Lee’s craggy face broke into a smile. “That’s what I always liked about you, Steele; you keep your eyes on the true issue.”
“Don’t butter me up, Sir Lee. This could have been a disaster.”
Sir Lee shrugged. “I know. But it wasn’t. And I didn’t call on you today only because of the incident in the park. I have news.” The old gent leaned forward. “Until now, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Benbrook’s son and daughter-in-law’s carriage accident involved foul play.”
“But Benbrook is so certain, and there’s the threatening letter against Benbrook’s life—”
Sir Lee held up his hand. “I like to be sure of my facts, that’s all.”
“And?”
“And I’ve interviewed the witnesses, and the carriage accident that killed Seth and Felix’s parents last month was indeed staged.”
Steele’s hands clenched on the desk. “Do you think that Seth and Felix are in danger?”
Sir Lee pursed his lips. “The threatening letter Benbrook received recently was focused only on him. Maybe the killer thought that Benbrook was in that carriage instead of his son?”
“Still, we don’t know the killer’s motive…” Steele hated the idea of anyone intent on harming Seth and Felix. “A lot of people have cause to hate Benbrook…”
Sir Lee leaned forward. “Yourself included.”
“The man’s a pompous ass.”
Sir Lee waved a hand. “Still, the motive could be revenge, a debt, inheritance…we won’t know until we find the perpetrator.”
“What is the story with his relatives? Who’s in line to inherit?”
“In order after Benbrook dies are…” Sir Lee ticked off his fingers. “Felix, Seth, then Benbrook’s brother in India, Gordon Devonshire.”
“What do we know about this Gordon Devonshire?”
“There was a scandal. Benbrook is more secretive than any agent I know—”
“Which is why he brought you in, instead of a Bow Street Runner or the authorities,” Steele interjected.
“Exactly. But I was able to get him to admit that the scandal years ago involved Gordon Devonshire sleeping with Benbrook’s then fiancée.”
Steele cringed. “Ouch. That means bad blood between the brothers.”
“Yes. Apparently Benbrook broke it off with the girl and banished his brother to distant shores.”
“Gordon certainly has motive.”
“Yes, but no one’s heard from the man in years. And I’ve done some checking around. The people who knew him in England say that he’s not the kind of man to take bold steps.”
“Maybe India changed him.”
Sir Lee shook his head. “They describe him as…weak-willed, not very bright, and incapable of managing a long-distance murder plot. Besides, the rift happened over twenty years ago. Why wait until now to take revenge? And the man must be well over sixty—”
“Age doesn’t stop you,” Steele interjected.
Sir Lee’s eyes twinkled. “But I’m unique,” he teased.
“I noticed.” Steele leaned back in his chair, and it creaked stridently. He knew that he should get it fixed, but he liked the noise when he was working alone in his study. It was his nest, he supposed, and he liked it that way. “Did Gordon Devonshire have any children?”
“A son. Patrick Devonshire. He would be about twenty-one.”
“So Gordon was married when he had the affair?”
Sir Lee scowled. “Yes. And I’m checking up on Gordon and the son, Patrick. But it’ll take some time.”
Tapping his finger to his lips, Steele sighed. “I wish Benbrook had taken my advice; then we’d have a better shot at knowing if inheritance is the motive.”
“I don’t disagree. But Benbrook doesn’t want to make you his heir, and the transfers must be very complicated.”
Steele looked away. “I can manage it and it’s legal.”
“With the help of a certain prince?” Sir Lee asked.
Ignoring the lure, Steele leaned forward, and the chair squeaked loudly. “All you need to know is that if I’m Benbrook’s heir, then we can know the motive and likely suspect.”
“Don’t you worry for your safety?”
“I can take care of myself.”
Sir Lee’s lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. Steele kept his face fixed; there was no way the old gent could know that Steele had been a Sentinel or about his midnight excursions. The man might know that Steele had saved the prince’s life, but Steele wasn’t about to say anything that would breach his promise to the prince.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Sir Lee admitted after a moment. “If anyone tries anything against you, then we know for certain that inheritance is the motive and that Gordon is likely the killer.”
“Exactly! And it would only be temporary. Once the killer is found I return guardianship of the boys and all rights back to Benbrook.”
Scratching his chin, Sir Lee pursed his lips. “You still have the papers?”
Steele opened the desk drawer, selected the parchment, and laid it on the desk. “Right here. Do you think that once Benbrook learns of today’s mishap he may change his mind?”
“Doubtful. I think he’d be much more likely to make you his heir if you considered getting married.”
“As I told you before, Sir Lee, I’m not in the market to find a wife,” Steele bit out.
The old gent shook his head. “If you can show Benbrook that you have established a fine home in which to be able to raise his two grandchildren, then I think he will be more disposed to place his signature across those pages. And not just for the short term.”
“I am giving them a home.”
“Temporarily. You’re a bachelor. You live for your work and spend more time at your offices than in your house. It doesn’t recommend you as a father.”
Despite himself, Steele was affronted. “I’d make a blasted good father.”
Sir Lee lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Perhaps. But speaking as someone who failed miserably as a parent, no matter how well intentioned, we often do more harm than good.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Disowning your daughter for marrying the man she loves is not exactly an everyday mistake. She died penniless and alone in an institution for the poor.” His voice was laced with c
ondemnation and sorrow.
Steele was uncomfortable with such bare grief. “But you found your grandson…”
“Only through a score of amazing good luck.” Sir Lee swallowed.
“He seems to have forgiven you…”
“Thank God he doesn’t hate me…but I cannot forgive myself for all I’ve done…” His craggy face was pained. “All I can do is try to make it up to him.” Suddenly Sir Lee looked up and his eyes narrowed. “It takes a rare statesman to get me so off topic…We’re talking about you getting married, not my family affairs.”
Steele crossed his arms. “I don’t believe that marrying will convince Benbrook to make me his heir. Why, I’d be replacing Deidre. He wouldn’t want that.”
“I think that Benbrook is more concerned about the future than the past.” Sir Lee’s green eyes took on a distant cast filled with sadness. “Losing one’s child will do that to a man.”
Steele shifted. “Did he say for certain that he would make me his heir if I married?”
“Oh, he made it quite clear. He hates his brother and has little use for his wife’s side of the family. I think if you proved yourself worthy then he’d consider giving you all of it…to go to the boys eventually of course.”
“He’s never found me worthy before.” Steele couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his tone.
“He’s never felt his mortality so strongly before. Nor was he without a son to raise his grandchildren.” Sir Lee toyed with his gold-topped cane. “Mark my words, marry well and Benbrook will make you his heir. Then you are the target, the children are safer, and your future is lined with gold.”
“Marry well, meaning…”
“Simple enough, she’s got to be of noble blood, good connections, good character. I know what it’ll take to satisfy Benbrook that the children will be raised in a manner befitting their station. I can guide you.”
“Having certain connections does not make a lady a good mother.”
“What attributes do you think make a good mother?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Steele scoffed, irritated by the conversation.
Scratching his ear, Sir Lee sighed. “I suppose we need to ask someone who actually has experience with children. But even with those additional requirements, you should have plenty of choices given that you’re a viscount now.”
Steele shifted. “I’m not a prize pig up for market.”
“Of course not. But you’re not a young man any longer.”
“I’m not so far from thirty!”
Sir Lee sniffed. “Many men have six children by now.”
“Six?” Steele swallowed.
“Still, you’ve just received a very coveted designation. By the by, you never did tell me what you did to gain your title…”
“I thought you had eyes and ears everywhere, Sir Lee.”
The old gent’s craggy face grimaced. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
“No.”
“Fine. Then let’s get back to business.”
Steele knew that Sir Lee wasn’t finished digging, but he had to admire a man who never became dejected, just delayed.
Sir Lee went on, “I still think you need a wife for Benbrook to cooperate.”
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Sir Lee reached for the parchment and slipped it into his pocket. “Then I’ll start working on Benbrook.”
A knock resounded at the door.
“Come.” Steele called.
Two servants entered and set up the tea service by the sofa and chairs across the room.
Eyeing the cakes, Sir Lee stood and ambled over to the sofa. Steele noticed that he kept his cane within easy reach of his right hand. That cane would make a nice weapon, if necessary, Steele noted, having no doubt that Sir Lee knew how to use it. Suddenly the black-shrouded lady came to mind. She’d carried a similar cane. Could Sir Lee’s cane hide a blade, too? Somehow Steele knew that it did.
He rose, filing away that useful piece of information.
The footman Jonathan asked, “Will there be anything else, Your Lordship?”
“No. Thank you.”
The footman left just as Miss West breezed into the room. “I’ll be happy to pour, if you wish, my lord.” Her demeanor was smoothly professional, yet her tone was still cool as ice, and she would not meet his eyes.
Steele frowned, feeling as if he’d lost ground with her and not liking it one bit. “Thank you.”
She nodded and moved to the tea set and poured. She’d changed into a pale blue gown with short white ruffled sleeves and a white band woven neatly below her lovely bosom. The gown looked as if it had once been a darker hue, but had faded over time. For some reason this bothered Steele. It wasn’t that he expected her to be in silks and lace, but still, she needn’t look so…dowdy.
The thought surprised him, as he’d never once looked at the attire of his servants with anything less than an eye toward functionality. He supposed when it came right down to it, he’d never quite looked at one of his servants through the eyes of an appreciative male.
The thought rankled, since he knew that he shouldn’t be looking at Miss West in any such way. But he was a healthy male of barely over thirty, hardly dead, and not yet done appreciating a lovely female form.
Maybe I should marry, he realized. There certainly were some benefits. But the real issue was: Could he find a respectable young lady with excellent connections who wouldn’t bore him to tears?
Chapter 11
Except for the anxiety and anger lacing her tongue, Abigail tasted nothing. The fine Oriental tea was wasted on her, as was the fresh raspberry scone sitting untouched on the plate before her.
She kept waiting for the gentlemen to broach the subject of the incident in the park or the topic of her dismissal. Or at least give her a hearty tongue-lashing. Instead, Mr. Linder-Myer and Lord Steele seemed content discussing the weather, the latest news in the broadsheets, and not much of anything of import.
Abigail wished that they’d get to it already instead of making her twist in the wind.
After a while, Abigail realized that if she listened carefully, there was an undercurrent to the gentlemen’s conversation that she did not understand.
Lord Steele certainty paid a good deal of deference to the agency representative. Even if Mr. Linder-Myer was a gentleman, Lord Steele was paying an inordinate amount of respect to the man. Mayhap it was the old gent’s age, or his cheery demeanor, but somehow Lord Steele seemed to have a great deal of patience for someone so very far beneath him in station.
Did it come from Lord Steele’s past? Or was there something more to this relationship?
Mr. Linder-Myer turned to Abigail. “So, Miss West. How do you think the boys are adjusting to their new home?”
She focused her attention on the older gentleman. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. They’re resilient, certainly. Else they’d hardly be as well as they are.” She shifted in her seat. “Yet it is quite a difficult transition, Mr. Linder-Myer. Felix feels tremendous responsibility for being the elder, and Seth, well, he doesn’t understand Felix’s need for privacy with his grief. Seth misses his mother terribly. They both do. Everything is so new, everyone is so different…” Her voice trailed off as the enormity of the boys’ pain squeezed at her heart.
Scratching his chin, Mr. Linder-Myer looked troubled. “Is there nothing that can be done?”
Biting her lip, Abigail kept her eyes trained on the tips of Steele’s shiny black boots, as she dared not meet his eyes. “Well, perhaps if they got to know everyone in the house a bit better…”
Abigail felt the force of Steele’s scowl like a windstorm pressing against her skin.
Steele uncrossed and recrossed his long legs. “They’ve hardly been here a week. Give it some time.”
Tapping his finger to his lips, Mr. Linder-Myer’s eyes narrowed and fixed on Abigail with an intensity she found unnerving. “So you think that the boys miss their mother?”
“Terribly.”
“Do you believe that a child needs a mother?”
The familiar grief splintered her heart. “Yes. Unequivocally, yes.”
“And a governess is no replacement for a mother?”
She shook her head, confused by the direction of this conversation. “No…”
“Even though a special bond can develop between a governess and her charges, it cannot compare to one’s mother.”
“No. Of course not…but…” The seed of a bad feeling planted itself deep in her middle.
“Governesses come and go, but a mother is forever.”
That bad little seed in her middle blossomed into a full-blown feeling of awfulness. “Well, yes…”
Mr. Linder-Myer lifted his gray bushy brows and glared pointedly at Lord Steele.
Lord Steele grimaced and busied himself with his tea.
Anxiously Abigail clutched her hands, trying to hide her grip inside her skirts. She peeked through her lashes at Lord Steele, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.
Oh no! Don’t sack me! Please don’t sack me!
Leaning forward, the old gent cleared his throat. “Is it not true that you’ve been a governess in a number of different homes, Miss West?”
“Ah, pardon?” A familiar burning feeling itched at the backs of her eyes, as she braced herself for the worst.
Mr. Linder-Myer frowned, as if she were being obtuse. Well, she was. And she wasn’t about to make it any easier for him to dismiss her. He’d made it quite clear that she was dispensable. Not a very nice thing to do by her way of thinking.
Mr. Linder-Myer jabbed his cane on the floor, his craggy features fixed, his green eyes intent. “Yes or no, young lady. You have served in many homes and been with many families.”
Lord Steele straightened, and his gaze fixed on Abigail. She felt the force of his attention like a warming stove that had been opened, and all she wanted to do was slam it closed and get out of the kitchen.
Her fingernails bit into her palms but she couldn’t care, not when Lord Steele was looking at her as if she were the source of a terrible disease and Mr. Linder-Myer seemed intent on seeing her shunned.
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