“My apologies, miss.” He coughed gently and added, “But I have come to find that His Lordship is quite determined when he chooses a course of action. You could not prevent him if you wanted to.”
“But surely there is someone who can make him listen to reason!” Beatrix looked bewildered, desperate to keep him from hurting himself further.
“I think I might be able to do that,” a deep baritone voice called out, causing Beatrix to jump in surprise.
Chapter 27
Ignoring both Beatrix and Lloyd, the older man strode purposefully into the Marquess’s chambers and closed the door behind him. The pair waited breathlessly for any sign of incident within, ignoring the sounds of voices coming from within.
“Might I intrude and inquire as to who that was?” Beatrix asked quietly, still staring at the door.
“That would be the Duke of Tarnton,” Lloyd answered in a near whisper, leaning close to respond. “In other words, Lord Bellton’s father.”
Beatrix gasped, her eyes going wide. What could have prompted such a surprising visit, and one from so far away? After all, Callum had only left his father’s home a week ago.
“Presumably, he has come to look in on his son after he received word of his injury,” Lloyd continued, looking about to make sure no one heard him speaking of these matters to the guest. “But I fear something far more sinister is at work.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at the man in alarm.
Lloyd gave her a knowing look and said, “You.”
“Me? What have I done? I’m no sinister character!” Beatrix looked hurt at the insinuation.
“No, miss, I mean only your presence here. I still smell the stench of that weasel the Earl of Weavington, and his hand is all over this, I assure you. Given that the Duke’s arrival was completely unexpected, without so much as a footman to arrive first with word of his impending arrival, I dare say the Duke was warned that his son has set his heart on you.”
“Is there to be no end to the tongue-wagging and treachery in this house? Are all noble families as bad as this?” she demanded, feeling the sting of indignation.
“Quite so, miss. I perhaps should not speak thus to an outsider, so pardon my saying so.” The butler looked around again and added quietly, “I dare say that gossip among the ‘betters’ is all they live for! But not Lord Bellton, of course. He spares no time nor intellect for caring overly much about others’ business.”
“That is refreshing to know,” Beatrix admitted. In truth, she couldn’t reconcile the image of Callum sitting at cards, throwing back goblets or port and slandering any of his peers for their antics or shortcomings.
“There are many among that set, though—perhaps a certain Earl who has recently been here—who find no other entertainment than the latest ‘news.’ Remember, not a word to anyone, it wouldn’t be fitting.” Lloyd began to walk away but turned back to say, “I would come away from there, miss. It might not be prudent to remain outside of closed doors while conversations take place within.”
Beatrix hurried to follow, but the sound of the door opening behind her and then later slamming shut made her pause. The Duke of Tarnton stormed out of his son’s chambers, then stopped as he neared Beatrix. He looked down at her with an unreadable expression.
Steeling herself for what would surely be a round of insults and accusations, Beatrix squared her shoulders and looked the Duke in the eye, refusing to show any hint that she might cower. Instead of showing her any scorn, however, his expression softened slightly.
“I am afraid that in this life, we can none of us have the things we want,” he began. Beatrix frowned slightly, confused, so he continued. “Our obligations hold far more sway than any desires of our own.”
The Duke stopped, looked away for a moment, then simply left.
“How very strange!” Beatrix thought, looking after the man with a bewildered eye. “I don’t understand a word of his meaning, though he seems to think I should!”
The sound of fresh footsteps—softer this time, and hesitant—pittered in the hallway. Beatrix turned to look and saw Greta and Birdie peeking from around the corner. Birdie gestured to her frantically while Greta pressed a fingertip to her mouth to caution her to be silent.
Almost at once, both of the maids dropped into awkward curtsies, and Beatrix wondered anew what was going on in this household.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, My Lady, but there’s visitors for ya downstairs!” Greta said nervously.
“Visitors? For me?” Beatrix asked.
“Aye, and please donaw be cross with us!” Birdie cried. “We did naw know ya was a lady until these two fellows told us! And here we been callin ya ‘miss’ and actin’ too familiar with ya!”
“What? Oh no!” Beatrix said, smiling with relief though instantly eager to hurry out to see these visitors. “I’m no lady, I assure you. These two must be… associates of my father’s. It’s simply a game between us all, they only call me that because he’s their employer.”
Greta instantly looked relieved, though Birdie still looked uncertain. “They said we wasn’t to tell anyone they was here, except you. Come this way, we’ll show ya where they are!”
Beatrix hurried after them on quick, silent feet, slinking down the servants’ stairs with awe.However do they manage to climb these rickety wooden slats, their arms laden with trays or washing?She clung to the walls on either side of the narrow staircase, dashing to keep up.
