The Viscount's Dangerous Liaison: Regency romantic mystery (Dangerous Deceptions Book 3)

by Louise Allen

  ‘So, will you pronounce my fate, Mrs – ?’

  Name? Laura, Laurel… ‘Myrtle. Mrs…’ Darke, Light… ‘Albright. Mrs Myrtle Albright, my lord. And of course Lord Manners would want us to make you welcome.’ What else could she say?

  ‘The girls finished freshening up the Blue Bedchamber before they went out, did they not, Mrs Albright?’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘I’m sure his lordship’s man can manage his baggage, seeing as it is only one flight up and the first door on the left,’ she added helpfully.

  ‘Yes, of course. If there is anything too awkward, Pitkin, just leave it in the hall and the footmen will take it up just as soon as they return. If you would care to come through to the drawing room, my lord? I am sure some refreshments would be welcome while water is heated for you. A tray of tea and biscuits for Lord Northam, if you please, Cook.’

  What have I done? she thought as she led the way through to the drawing room. But what else could I have done? I cannot stay here with no reason and I can’t pretend to be a maid, not dressed like this.

  ‘Good thing I got the lads to light the fire under the copper before they went out,’ Mrs Bishop said as Laura hurried back to the kitchen, shut the door and leaned on it with a feeling that she was holding the hordes at bay. ‘He’s turned out well, that young man. Wilder than the master, he was then and hadn’t grown into himself. Did you ever come across him when he visited last? Must have been two years ago.’

  ‘I think I might have glimpsed him,’ Laura said vaguely. ‘I need an apron and the keys if I am to look the part.’

  ‘The housekeeper’s room has been shut up since Mrs Gaunt left to live with her sister in Brighton last month.’ Mrs Bishop took a key from a hook on the dresser. ‘I meant to get the girls to turn it out ready for when his lordship took on a new housekeeper but I haven’t got around to it yet. Let’s see what she left.’

  The room was under Holland covers, the curtains drawn, but the sun flooded in when Laura drew them back. My room now, I suppose. She began to pull off covers and found a chest of drawers. ‘Look, aprons.’ There was a stack of small white aprons, all with a narrow trim of lace to indicate the housekeeper’s status as someone who did not work with their hands. ‘And caps.’ She tried one on, her reflection blurred in the dusty mirror. ‘Perfect.’ It slid towards her nose. ‘But a bit on the large side.’

  ‘And here’s her chatelaine.’ Mrs Bishop held up the clasp with its bright steel chains, one with a pair of scissors, one with a needle case, another with a closing hook to take the bunch of keys that were a housekeeper’s badge of office. ‘We’ll have the girls give the room a thorough turn-out when they get back. You’ll be snug in here once we get that mattress aired. I can hear that kettle singing.’

  She led the way back to the kitchen and Laura set out the tray with napkin and a plate of shortbread biscuits, tea cup, milk jug and sugar basin. ‘Oh, Pitkin, you made me jump.’ The man moved like a ghost, she thought, glancing at him as he stood hesitating in the doorway. ‘If you take the tray, I will bring the teapot in a moment. Did you find everything you need in his lordship’s chamber?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Albright, thank you. I will take the hot water up when it’s ready.’

  ‘There’s no rush. Sit yourself down and have a bite to eat when you’ve taken the tray in,’ Mrs Bishop said comfortably. ‘The water can wait until his lordship has finished his tea.’

  She sent Laura a quizzical look as she poured the hot water on the tea leaves and gave a jerk of her head towards the valet as he went out, carefully balancing his load. ‘Odd one that,’ she murmured. She raised her voice, ‘Rosie – you make sure you keep mum about Miss Laura, now. Remember she’s Mrs Albright the housekeeper.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Bishop.’ The girl came out of the scullery wiping her hands on a cloth. ‘I won’t say a word. His lordship’s a lovely-looking gentleman, isn’t he?’

  Laura left Mrs Bishop, hands on substantial hips, delivering a lecture on not ogling gentlemen guests and took the teapot through. That’s two of us who had best heed that message. Lord Northam was wandering around the room, looking at the pictures, a biscuit in one hand.

  ‘Shall I pour, my lord?’

  ‘Yes please.’ He turned, smiled. ‘Am I making a great deal of unexpected work for you, Mrs Albright?’

  ‘Not at all, my lord. It is good to have the house occupied and the staff busy.’

  ‘And you have no idea where Lord Manners is or when he will return?’

  ‘No, my lord. The master dislikes being tied down to routine.’

  As she closed the door behind her she thought she heard him say, ‘Lucky devil.’

  Laura stood in the hallway and studied her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t say that a large white cap exactly enhanced her features, but looking like a floppy mushroom was the least of her worries. She certainly didn’t look like a miserable seventeen year-old swathed in unflattering black which is how Lord Northam would have remembered her, if he had ever given her a thought. But she had hoped for a hiding place until Perry came home and could help her and now she was pretending to be a housekeeper with no idea for how long she had to keep up the charade.

  At least he’s polite, sober, seems to know how to behave himself around female staff and is an old friend of Perry’s. Perry had remained close to Theo Quenten, she knew, but they always seemed meet elsewhere of recent years. But what if he goes calling in the neighbourhood? What if the Swinburns return a call… Stop it. She was borrowing trouble. Even if her uncle or one of her cousins did call on Lord Northam, there was no need for the housekeeper to make an appearance. Reassured, she tweaked at the cap and went to see what they could discover from the valet.

  Chapter Two

  Theo ate another biscuit, drank some tea, shook his head over Perry’s choice of rather wooden still life paintings of dead game birds and finally settled into a chair, the better to wonder about the housekeeper. When he’d last visited there had been a formidable old dame, very appropriately named Gaunt. He supposed she’d retired, because it was a good two years since he’d been here. More recently he’d visited Perry at his hunting lodge in the Shires or at his Town house.

  It should be no surprise to find a housekeeper he did not recognise, but this one was exceedingly young for such a responsible position. She couldn’t be more than three and twenty, he decided, although with that cap on it was hard to be certain. It swamped her delicate, heart-shaped features and almost hid her black hair. On the other hand, those big green eyes and the long dark lashes showed all the better for it.

  And she was a lady, not someone who had painfully perfected her accent through elocution classes in order to rise through the ranks of the servants. Perhaps she was a widow, come down in the world and forced to earn her living. An officer’s widow, perhaps: there were enough of those around, sadly. Perry might have taken her on as a favour to a friend who had known the dead man.

  On the other hand, she had worn no wedding ring, he recalled. He’d watched her pouring his tea and she had steadied the cup with her left hand as she’d done so. Long, slender fingers and no rings. All housekeepers and cooks, married, widowed or single were Mrs, as a mark of their status in the household, but surely a widow would retain her ring?

  It was a mystery, even if a very small one that could be answered by a question to Mrs Bishop. Theo enjoyed mysteries, although he had only ever been involved personally in one, when his uncle had been poisoned and he and Guinevere, the widow, had been cast as murderous, guilty lovers. That experience had not been enjoyable – the scurrilous cartoons were the least of it – but he had found being involved in the investigation and the dramatic dénouement, fascinating.

  That was what he needed now – a mystery to solve.

  Be careful what you wish for, Theo. He must be getting old, he decided with a grin, snagging a final shortbread biscuit from the plate and settling back in the armchair. He was positively looking forward to rusticating in the depths of the country, even t
hough the only prospects of entertainment were fishing, swimming in the freezing sea, solving the puzzle of a youthful housekeeper or exploring the countryside on foot or horseback.

  He should not be here at all, of course. There were plenty of properties of his own to chose from if he wanted to immerse himself in country life. He had inherited estates in the West Country, in Yorkshire and some smaller farms in Hertfordshire, but somehow he still did not feel like Lord Northam, the man who owned those lands. He didn’t know what he wanted, what he wanted to be.

  A good landowner, of course. Progressive, fair to his tenants, good for the land he would one day hand on in his turn. But it did not feel like him. Guin had said that when he married and started a family then he would find that sense of belonging, of having a purpose – yet here he was, fleeing from London with still weeks of the Season ahead. Leaving his pretty fiancée…

  Theo got up, opened the long window onto the back garden and stepped out. The land rose before it met the coast a mile distant, so he could not see the sea, although he could smell it on the brisk breeze. He began to walk across the lawn to where a ha-ha kept a flock of sheep safely away from the pleasure grounds. He ought to learn about sheep as well as everything else, he supposed, becoming exasperated now with his own lack of purpose. The sheep lifted their heads, stared at him with what he interpreted as scorn for his ignorance and went back to munching thistles.

  He had thought that taking the plunge about marriage was the solution to his restlessness. He plucked a long seeding grass stem and began to chew it as he leaned on a hurdle at the edge of the ha-ha. It felt like an appropriately agricultural thing to be doing. He had assumed that by proposing marriage he would convince himself that he was now the sober, responsible Viscount Northam and somehow he would find himself settling down as a result. And yet he felt anything but settled.

  He was quite clear in his own mind that there was nothing in his natural inclinations that would make him reluctant to wed. He liked women. He liked sex – with women. He just could not envisage life with a wife, even though he now knew her – or as much as a young lady who as clearly not in love was prepared to reveal of her true self in the course of a few formal conversations.

  It was not a question of sowing his wild oats before settling down. He had sown several acres of the things up until last year and he’d no desire to go down that path again. Theo shrugged, flicked away the grass stem and walked back to the house. It was probably his birthday and the passing of time that made the future seem dull, flat and…

  And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got money, position, security, privilege, your health. A charming fiancée. Enjoy it.

  Theo rounded the corner of the house, uneasily contemplating rustic pleasures, and crunched across the gravel at the front towards the stable block. He’d see how his team was settling down after the journey. He’d left his groom to hack up from London, leading two riding horses, and they’d not arrive until tomorrow, so, unless his team was recovered, or Perry had left any beasts that suited him, he was confined to exploring the grounds on foot.

  ‘Good day to you, sir.’ A horseman on a rangy black gelding appeared through the tall gates from the carriage drive through the park. ‘Am I addressing Lord Manners?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Manners is not at home just now. I’m Lord Northam, a guest.’

  ‘My lord.’ The man raised his hand to his hat in a gesture that was almost a military salute. Theo realised he was, indeed, wearing uniform of sorts, although an unfamiliar one, as if someone had rigged out a naval lieutenant as a horseman.

  ‘You’re a Riding Officer?’ He had never met any, but he knew the Board of Customs had established them along the coast in a desperate attempt to prevent smuggling.

  ‘I am, my lord. Lieutenant Thomas Morefleet, newly appointed and based at Sheringham.’

  ‘That’s what, ten miles away, is it not?’

  ‘Aye, we’re thinly spread. I’ve three Light Dragoons to assist me.’

  ‘Have you a message for Lord Manners? I fear I cannot be exact as to when he will receive it.’

  ‘I’ve questions for the household, my lord. And I would like to look at the cellars.’

  ‘Have you a warrant?’ Theo asked automatically, even though he wanted to be co-operative. His friend would certainly not hesitate.

  Perry had spoken against smuggling on the only occasion Theo could recall when they had discussed it. He’d become angry when a dinner companion had dismissed the free trade as trivial and all the government’s fault for introducing high tariffs on wines, lace and tobacco.

  ‘It breeds violence, leaks gold and information to the French and harms fair traders in this country,’ Perry had said, thumping on the table to emphasise his point and sending a glass of his host’s – doubtless smuggled – brandy slopping over. ‘And if all the duties were abolished I suppose you’d like to pay the higher taxes as a result?’

  The mounted man looked resigned, as though he expected a refusal. ‘I have no warrant, my lord. I am surveying the countryside, seeing which landowners we may rely upon to help us fight this scourge.’ There was passion in the man’s voice, but weariness too. It was probably a thankless, if not downright dangerous, task he had.

  ‘Manners is no advocate for free trading. Take your horse round to the stables,’ Theo said. ‘Then come to the back door and I’ll find the housekeeper. With Manners away I suppose it is up to her, but I’ll encourage her to co-operate.’

  He went in the kitchen door himself, making a business of treading loudly and clearing his throat. Domestic staff did not welcome their masters intruding on their work areas, he knew, and he had already given the women a start when he’d appeared that morning.

  They were both there, along with one of the footmen who was polishing candlesticks. Mrs Bishop stood jointing a chicken, Mrs Albright bent over a large ledger at the other end of the long table and a pair of maids laden with bedlinen scurried out to the hall as he walked in. The absent staff had clearly all returned home.

  ‘Excuse me, but I thought I had best warn you that there’s a Customs Riding Officer about to arrive and he wants to look at the cellars, Mrs Albright.’

  Their reaction was interesting, Theo thought. Mrs Bishop did not appear at all put out, but Mrs Albright dropped her pen, gave a little start of surprise and covered it by pushing ineffectually at her over-large cap.

  ‘I’ll tell him to take himself off and get a warrant if that is what you want, but I know Manners is opposed to smuggling, so I do not imagine you have anything to hide.’

  ‘Duty paid on everything in this household,’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘That’s assuming you and Edward came by your tobacco legal-like, young Terence.’

  ‘Aye, we did that.’ The footman looked up from a fiddly piece of moulding on the base of the candlestick. ‘The master’s set agin it and it ain’t worth losing a good place over a few pennies on baccy.’

  ‘Well, there you are then.’ She sliced through a joint and waved the resulting leg at Theo by way of emphasis. ‘Duty paid on the spirits, his lordship doesn’t smoke and I’m not one for Frenchie laces and silks, as you can see.’

  There was a tap on the open door and Morefleet stood on the threshold, hat in hand. ‘Good day, ladies. May I come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Mrs Albright seemed to have recovered her equilibrium. Theo thought again that she was poised for such a young housekeeper. And attractive: dangerously so in some circumstances. She was fortunate to have Perry as an employer; he was not a man to take advantage of his female staff like many would. ‘Take this seat by the hearth. What can we do for you, sir? Lord Manners would wish us to co-operate with Excise and Customs officers.’

  ‘A refreshing change, hereabouts, ma’am,’ Morefleet remarked, taking the chair, a high-backed Windsor, and pulling a notebook from his pocket. ‘I’m patrolling my stretch of coast, asking landowners and people in authority what they know of the free trading in their areas and checking
on what cellars there are. You’d be surprised how often a respectable householder hasn’t been into their own cellars for a month or so and has a nasty surprise when we open the doors.’

  ‘Well, you are welcome to the run of these,’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘Terence, show the officer both of them.’

  ‘This way, sir.’ The footman lit a lantern from the range, then moved to a door almost hidden besides the long dresser laden with dishes.

  ‘Don’t forget the front cellar,’ Mrs Bishop called after them as they vanished into the gloom. ‘That’s damp with an earth floor, so no use for anything much,’ she added to Theo as the light wavered down the whitewashed walls, throwing long shadows before it vanished. ‘Still, doesn’t do to seem we’re hiding anything, does it?’

  ‘Front and back? Don’t they connect?’ Theo helped himself to a jam tart cooling on a rack and hitched one hip on a tall stool.

  ‘The front’s the old part of the house – they do say it goes back to Queen Bess’s time. The back was built last century. You can see if you go outside and look at the house from the side – the front and back roofs are parallel and meet in a gutter.’

  ‘You find it a lot in this part of the world.’ The sudden contribution from Mrs Albright almost made him jump, she had been so quiet.

  ‘You are from around here, then?’ Her voice held no trace of a Norfolk accent and he wondered yet again just what her background was.

  ‘Oh no, I’m considered a foreigner,’ she said with a smile that made him blink before she was serious again.

  ‘From what I recall of attitudes hereabout, that could mean you’re from the next parish,’ he said, half-teasing, but she was bent over her ledger again and the top of the cap was exceedingly uncommunicative.

  Theo was still brooding on quite why that smile had made him want to sit there for the rest of the day attempting to tease another one from the housekeeper when the Riding Officer clumped back up the brick steps in his heavy boots.