Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(54)

“What do you say, angel?” Lord Ashton asked his wife. “A trip to the countryside to watch a notorious rake brought to his knees might be quite a lark.”

“We can’t just go jaunting about the countryside. What about the children?” Annabelle protested.

“Perhaps then, you could help me book passage on a mail coach,” Susanah said. After all, if she was going to be a steward’s wife, she might as well learn to live like the masses.

Both Lord and Lady Ashton stared at her with open mouths.



*

“What is this?” demanded Uncle Phillip as he entered Evan’s bedchamber.

“What is what?” asked Evan as he stopped splashing water on his face. He’d returned to his room to change for dinner. After a long day of meeting with several of his uncle’s tenants, going over reports from the bailiffs, and dealing with a poacher, he was exhausted. Which was probably less about the work and more to do with how much he’d drunk the night before and how little sleep he was getting.

He knew he was drinking too much. Evening card games with Gilbert weren’t enough to fully occupy his mind. He’d start having internal arguments with himself about whether he should have done things differently. Rather than stew about what he should have said or done to Susanah, he drank enough to dull his thoughts.

Reaching for a towel he dried his face. His man had laid out evening clothes on the bed. Although, Evan was of half a mind to skip dinner and go straight to drinking.

“You have to get rid of them,” said Uncle Phillip.

His uncle wasn’t making sense. Not to mention, Evan couldn’t ever remember him barging into his room. And especially not when he was undressing.

“Get rid of whom?”

“Your visitors.”

“I have visitors?” Well, obviously he had visitors, his uncle had just said so. Although no servant had presented him with a calling card. Evan’s chest squeezed. It couldn’t be Lady Susanah. He’d told her to send word—not show up unannounced. She would never do something so rash or improper. No, she was calculated down to her pinky toe. Besides she was engaged to be married to a titled man as she’d planned all along. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that now. “I haven’t encouraged anyone to visit.” Although he hadn’t told anyone they couldn’t, but his uncle’s estate was not on the beaten path. One had to go out of their way to make it here. “Who is it?”

Maybe Lord Hull was here to complain about losing five hundred pounds in his various bets against Lord Farringate tying the knot. Or escape paying for a time.

“I can’t have them see Gilbert,” said his uncle. And there was the crux of the problem. His uncle didn’t want anyone to know about Gilbert—or at least no one beyond the servants who were sworn to secrecy. “Why would they show up just before dinner? Surely, they don’t expect to stay here.”

They probably did. Most highborn travelers would expect to be accommodated overnight at the very least. Especially since the nearest inn with bedchambers was at least a dozen miles away.

“I’ll take care of it.” Evan pulled his shirt over his head. “Who is it?”

“A Lord Ashton and his wife.”

Evan pushed his head through the neck opening. That was odd. He knew Ashton, but they weren’t intimates. Why had he and his wife, who was one of the belles, stopped by? Or had they been entrusted with a letter to hand deliver? Susanah had once been engaged to Ashton. Perhaps she trusted him enough to deliver a message.

He didn’t want to hope because he’d spent the week after Hull’s letter arrived waiting on the post. Instead of anything addressed to him, his uncle received letter after letter. Apparently, he carried on volumes of correspondence with his acquaintances. Besides Evan knew better. But his heart was thundering, his mouth was dry, and his hands felt cold and clammy.

Uncle Phillip continued to stare at him.

“He may have a message for me,” Evan forced out. “But if we don’t ask them to spend the night, they will think it strange.” His uncle may have a reputation for being a reclusive hermit, but Evan didn’t. “We don’t want to arouse their curiosity. Or send them on the road after dark. Perhaps we could offer them rooms in the north wing and supper trays. Once they are tucked away in the far side of the house, there isn’t any reason they should encounter Gilbert.”

“The rooms in the north wing haven’t been used in years,” said his uncle.

“Yes, but they are in good repair and regularly aired out. I checked on them just last week.” More because he’d needed an excuse to be alone with his foul mood. But it was important to be certain the mostly unused wing was not allowed to decay or suffer an infestation of rodents. But there was a separate entrance, a separate drawing room, and a separate staircase.

The easier solution would be to keep Gilbert confined to his rooms, but disruptions to his routine were met with anger and obstinance. He wouldn’t react well to being held away from the dinner table. For not the first time, Evan wondered if limiting Gilbert’s interactions with the world and people was the best thing. Granted, he didn’t want Gilbert exposed to those who would belittle or torment him, but not everyone was so cruel. But it wasn’t his decision to make.

“So where are Lord and Lady Ashton?” asked Evan.