She wondered if she'd gone too far when the normally dignified earl's chin trembled as if he were going to break down and sob in her drawing room. That wouldnotdo, so she hurried to explain. "What are these ladies' interests?"
His eyes widened. "Their interests?"
"Yes...they must occupy themselves with something whilst you're not there for them to coddle and please."
"I...I have no idea," he finally managed to stammer. And then his eyes lit and and he gave a broad smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Collins knows. I'll meet with her straightaway."
"And just who is this Mrs. Collins?"
"She's my housekeeper." His tone was so proprietary that she looked to both Col and Sythe who both raised eyebrows implying they had no idea who this mysterious woman was either.
"I'm confused," Camilla said. "Why are you obviously so comfortable confiding in a servant, and, come to that, why areyou communicating directly with your housekeeper? Surely you have a steward for such simple tasks?"
Framlingwood swallowed hard. "She's the reason I'm able to keep all of my mistresses in adjoining townhouses. She manages everything with a central kitchen and staff which she assigns to the various houses as needed."
Sythe interrupted. "Did you actually purchase that huge row of Grosvenor Street townhouses just to accommodate all of your mistresses?" The tone of his voice intimated that this was probably the most absurd part of the whole Banbury tale. Before Framlingwood could answer, Sythe forged ahead. "And there are five more townhouses in that edifice...good heavens...you're not planning to fill all of them with mistresses, are you?"
Framlingwood hung his head. "I don't know. I inherited the lot from my father's bachelor brother."
His voice was so soft and muffled that Camilla let out a snort. She pointed a heavily be-ringed finger at him and ordered, "You will set up an appointment formewith this paragon of a housekeeper. From the way your face lights up when you talk about her, I don't want you distracted by the possibility of ensconcing her as your next mistress in a sixth townhouse.
"Once she and I talk, and I determine where these poor women's interests lie, then we'll find men to infiltrate each house on the pretense of tutoring, or assisting them in some way with their interests. But the men's prime directives will be to discover which of your mistresses is the murderess. I believe this is the best and possibly only solution to your dilemma, but naturally, setting up such a scheme will take time."
"How much time?" Now, Framlingwood's voice shook. "What am I supposed to do about the blackmailer in the meantime?"
"For heaven's sakes, Derek, pay him, and ask for more time. He can't possibly object as long as you keep paying him."
"Keep paying him?" His voice rose an octave. "How much and for how long?"
"The amount I leave up to you. Talking about blackmail is so vulgar. How long depends on how quickly I can find men who will appeal to your mistresses' interests and are willing to spy for you. The longer you keep the blackmailer on the string, the more easily Mr. Colwyn will be able to track him down and eliminate him. Am I correct in my thinking, Mr. Colwyn?"
Col gave her a solemn nod.
"But they need protection right now," Derek whined. "I won't have anyone endangering my angels, my pearls."
Lady Camilla gave him a withering look.
The earl leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "This is a nightmare."
Camilla was suddenly tired of the spoiled nobleman who'd invaded her drawing room with his inane complaints, so she snapped at him in her most imperious voice: "You should have found husbands for them long ago. No man needs five mistresses."
"Don't be ridiculous, milady. No man can find men willing to marry one of his former mistresses, let alone five."
"As you say." Camilla's tone brooked no further argument.
Col raised a hand. "I've already had Captain El dispatch her main guard at Goodrum's, Obadiah, to watch over all the townhouses."
Derek lowered his head into his hands. "But won't that enrage the blackmailer?"
"No one will know he's there. Obadiah's in disguise as one of your footmen. The man's an expert at subterfuge. He's followed El all over the Mediterranean, and no one has taken him down yet."
Honoria gave a loud sigh and rolled her eyes. "With a bodyguard who looks like Obadiah, you'll be lucky if your 'angels' don't fly away into his strong, muscled arms."
6
6 SEPTEMBER, 1826
HOUSEKEEPER'S SITTING ROOM
