“Young, slender, well dressed. The Scot saw him only from a distance, and for a brief moment, but we both know the Viscount of Mallen is neither young nor slender.”
“Right. Did he say this meeting took place in York?”
“Yes, in a tavern not frequented by noblemen.”
“That does not help us much.”
“I have to be in that area the day after tomorrow, Your Grace,” Nigel said. “Perhaps I can go in and ask a few questions.”
Maximilian nodded. “I would appreciate that. Now get yourself some rest.”
Walking past the kitchen to the dining hall, he did not see Eugenia. He decided not to linger to wait for her – as he was already late for supper – he went into the hall. Augusta and Wilmot sat in their usual places, as were their guests, the Whitingtons. Countess Whitington’s face appeared pale and drawn, but she rose with a smile at the sight of him to curtsey.
“You are looking much better, Countess Whitington,” he said and, returned her smile. As he liked her and missed her at meals lately, he went to her and took her hand. Bending, he kissed it. “Are you feeling as well as you appear?”
“Why, yes, Your Grace, I am much stronger now, thank you for asking.”
He smiled at the Earl and Lady Helena and discovered his stepmother frowning at him, her pale blue eyes as cold as ever. Wilmot, as usual, did not greet him. Yet, while he usually avoided eye contact, this night he faced Maximilian fully. His plain face remained devoid of emotion, yet his eyes followed Maximilian as he took his seat at the head of the table.
As the butler poured wine all around, Augusta said, “Yes, we are all grateful to have our dear friend and guest back with us. Countess Whitington, are you well enough to continue to assist me with preparations for the ball? I do need further aid with the menu and the wine selection. What we have is so utterly dreary, and your ideas are ever so clever.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the Countess replied graciously. “I will join you after breakfast tomorrow.”
“I say, Your Grace,” Earl Whitington said, then cleared his throat as he gazed at Maximilian. “Did I hear correctly that one of the rogues who attacked you last night has been captured?”
Wilmot suddenly gazed at the Earl. “What was that?” Though he had spoken somewhat rudely, Wilmot did not apologize, even as Maximilian shot him a significant glance. “One of your attackers was caught, Max?”
Maximilian took a sip of his wine, ignoring Augusta’s stare that warned him against talking of uncivilized matters such as someone trying to kill him. “Yes, that is true,” he said to the two of them. “A young Scot, the one I injured. He is currently enjoying shackles and a stone cell courtesy of the York constables.”
“Has he said anything?” Wilmot asked in a rush of words. “I mean, confessed to . . . er, attacking you?”
Maximilian chuckled. “Why would he? I gave him that cut when he assaulted a duke, and he was caught leaving an apothecary’s shop. His friend is dead, and the others no doubt have bolted off to Scotland. He will hang in due time.”
“Right,” Wilmot replied, looking down at his wine. “Of course.”
“That is wonderful news,” the Earl said and smiled. “Most excellent. Your Grace, you lead quite the charmed life.”
Before Maximilian could speak, Augusta said, “This talk of attacks and hanging has quite soured my stomach. I do wish we could have a civilized conversation around this table.”
“I think it is wonderful,” Lady Helena said, her voice wistful and her admiring eyes on Maximilian. “His Grace fought off four highwaymen and escaped without a scratch.”
Maximilian laughed, lifting his wine glass to her. “Well, I did receive a few scrapes on my unmentionables when I came off my horse.”
Under the laughter of the Whitingtons, Maximilian noticed that, naturally, August and Wilmot did not laugh along with them. Augusta tapped her fingers on the table with a genteel scowl fixed on her features, while Wilmot eyed Maximilian sidelong. Pretending not to see it, Maximilian again told the story of the Scottish robbers running once their leader had fallen. “And here I thought the Scottish were brave,” he said laughingly.
Nodding, Earl Whitington said, “Not much better than a rabble,” then smiled.
“We have the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire arriving in a few days,” Augusta announced. “I do so hope we might have a change of conversation at the table before then.”
“I cannot wait to see the Duchess again,” the Countess said, then broke into a happy sigh. “Such a dear soul and my good friend.”
“I have not the honor to have met them,” Maximilian said. “Thus, I am looking forward to their arrival.”
“You will like the Duke, Your Grace,” the Earl said, “He has a vast knowledge of horses and hunting.”
“Then I am sure I will,” Maximilian replied. “Speaking of which, would you care to go hunting again soon?
“Of course, of course.”
