Spending the night in Verity’s arms eased his inner turmoil so he could think logically again.
If he didn’t have to be a one-man army, he might almost manage this bailiff business.Having women as his troop was more than a trifle odd.Except, Gravesyde wasn’t a war zone but a domestic situation where women outnumbered men and had ruled through years of a war that had taken their menfolk.Rafe was under no illusion that he was smarter than they, just stronger and more experienced in warfare.The women understood society, a different type of battlefield.
He simply had to adjust his thinking, with Verity’s aid.
After seeing Verity and the children fed, Rafe wound his way downstairs.Not having drunk to excess as the younger guests had, Damien and Hunt were already at the breakfast buffet.
“Understand there was some contretemps in the attic?”Hunt asked.“Our lordly viscount raised the devil when he couldn’t find his valet last night.”
“Chatham passed out before Jacques could do more than remove his boots.Very fine boots, he reports,” Damien said with a straight face.
Knowing Damien’s peevish valet, Rafe assumed Jacques had more than that to say about a cup-shot lordling who’d probably cast up his accounts over said boots.
“Our attic intruder is a Sean who calls himself John and says he’s a manservant aspiring to be a valet.Which I take to mean he earns half what a valet ought to be paid for the same duties.”Rafe scooped up half the eggs on the platter and topped them with ham.He’d worked up an appetite and had missed dinner.He was also just annoyed enough to not care what the gentry thought of him.“He also claims asolicitorhired him to search the attic.I locked him up until we can question him at a more decent hour.”
“Ah, thoughtful of you.”Hunt gulped his coffee.“Last night, I might have throttled him.This morning, I’m brimming with Christmas joy and cheer and receptive to prattle.”
Rafe tried not to choke on his ham.The one-eyed captain looked as dour and piratical as ever.
“I understand the women are holding their Christmas market at the inn today?Do you need to be there to prevent Fletcher from terrorizing them?”Damien politely cut his ham into bite-size bits.
More interested in food than etiquette, Rafe rolled his ham up in cold toast.“If I think my family is safe, I’ll be there to supervise.”
He bit off a hunk of his half-sandwich.His family.If they kept the orphans, he’d have an instant family.The idea was growing on him.He needed to quit thinking like that until the matter was resolved.The letter to Willa had indicatedsomeonewas expecting them.
“Well then, gentlemen, let’s finish breaking our fast and interview our culprit.I, for one, would like to resolve this wretched business so the ladies will quit fretting and return to singing.”Hunt concentrated on his food after that pronouncement.
Rafe heartily approved the sentiment, but he doubted that a viscount’s manservant would provide sufficient insight to solve two murders.
The curate disabused him of that notion later, as he made his way to question the prisoner, accompanied by Hunt and Damien.“Minerva says the servant mentioned a solicitor sent him?”
“So he claims.”Rafe unlocked the guest room.“But he fears for his position and is likely to say anything to keep it.”
“It was someone from an estate solicitor’s office responsible for calling the orphans’ mother amistressand burying her under the name of Smith,” Paul reminded them.“It may be good to know the name of the one who hired this person.”
“Excellent idea.”Hunt stormed into the open room, catching the servant hastily yanking on his coat.“What’s your full name, John?”
“Gillespie, sir,” he said nervously.“From County Cork.”
“I’m Captain Huntley, the magistrate.Rafe Russell, bailiff, Upton, curate, Sutter, a lawyer to make certain we stay legal.Lord Chatham is your employer?”
“Yes, milord...sir.”Gillespie hastily wrapped his neckcloth.“Is he very angry?”
“He is irrelevant.”The American army captain callously dismissed the viscount.
The room was almost too small for all of them.Rafe was happy to stand in the doorway as guard and hand off the questioning to Hunt.After the servant had terrorized Verity and the children, he’d not be so polite.
“And last night you said a solicitor ordered you to search the attic?What solicitor?”Hunt leaned against a wall and toyed with the cane he no longer needed but used for effect.
“Lord Chatham’s solicitor, sir.He hired me when his lordship came into the title.”
Rafe bit his tongue on his opinion of a man who couldn’t hire his own servants.His foul humor was not helpful.
“And the solicitor’s name?”Damien jotted in a notebook he produced from his pocket.
“Turner, I believe, sir,” Gillespie said nervously.“That’s what his lordship calls him.”
Turner, the name of the orphans.Rafe stirred uneasily.
