The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,48
He had no regret over his disagreement with Kirksdale on this issue. His belief that the massacre hadn’t been the fault of the peaceful protestors seeking reformation but of the government’s order to break things up by sending cavalry into their midst was what had caused him to craft his own bill – the reason he had to participate in today’s and tomorrow’s parliamentary sessions.
He considered the neatly penned script outlining the act at the top of the page. One quick glance was enough to inform him that it wasn’t a match either. Although…
His gaze sharpened. “It says, ‘the Marquess of Kirksdale wishes to acquire your support in the following matter of great importance.’”
Winthorp tilted his head. “Yes?”
Simon re-read the phrasing and sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I would never refer to myself in the third person like this. Not even for the purposes of making a formal request.”
“Of course not, my lord. I gather the marquess’s secretary penned it.”
In other words, it wasn’t the least bit helpful in terms of discerning whether or not Kirksdale had also written the instructions delivered to Captain Murdoch. Of course, it was possible to suppose he had by using the process of elimination, since it was now clear that neither Elliot nor Elmwood was behind it.
Still, Simon sighed and returned the request from Kirksdale to the box. He didn’t like maybes. He wanted concrete facts – irrevocable proof of the marquess’s scheming. After all, he’d misjudged people before. Considering the stakes involved in charging a peer with treason, he’d like to avoid a repeat occurrence where Kirksdale was concerned.
Simon glanced at the clock perched on top of the cabinet next to the door. “I have to go. But before I do, there’s one more thing.”
“My lord?”
“I’ll once again be requiring a maid at Bedford Street.” He chose to avoid further explanation. Telling Winthorp he now had a ward would be pointless. The secretary was too familiar with Simon’s affairs to believe such a story.
Understanding dawned in the other man’s eyes. “Of course, my lord. I’ll see to it right away.”
Happy with this assurance, Simon departed. The secretary would simply think he’d acquired a mistress, which wouldn’t be the worst supposition in the world if only it were true. Unfortunately, however, the lovely woman occupying the extra house he owned was averse to such a delicious notion. And he wasn’t sure how to get her to change her mind, or even if doing so would be wise. She was, after all, an innocent – a woman who might one day marry – and he would be the most selfish bastard alive if he ruined her chance to do so.
Ida spent Wednesday and Thursday going back over the newspaper clippings she and Simon had gathered. When they offered no additional information, she resumed her knitting. By the time Simon arrived Friday afternoon, her project was progressing quite nicely.
“This is Miranda,” Simon said as he took off his hat and gloves. “She’s the only servant in my employ with the skill to cook, clean, and function as a lady’s maid.”
Ida couldn’t quite drag her gaze away from him. He looked impeccable, dressed in his evening attire. The clothes hugged him, outlining his masculine strength to perfection: his broad shoulders, square chest, and long legs. Ida felt decidedly underdressed and slightly awestruck by his impressive physique. He’d never looked quite like this in his day clothes.
Aware of the heat creeping into her cheeks, she forced her attention toward his companion. The middle-aged woman he’d brought with him had a plump figure and a kind expression.
She greeted Ida politely, after which Simon said, “Miranda will remain here for the duration of your stay.”
“Um. Thank you.” Although Ida firmly believed she could managed without a servant, she didn’t protest his decision. The last thing she wanted was for the maid to feel unwanted or superfluous, but the truth was Ida had been managing on her own for so long now, she didn’t need someone else’s assistance.
“Has your gown been delivered?” Simon asked.
“Yes. It arrived about an hour ago.”
“In that case, get dressed. Miranda will help. Once you’re ready, we’ll talk.” He turned away and disappeared into the parlor.
Ida bristled. The man was being too highhanded for her liking. Of course, she was sure she knew the cause, but her refusal to let him press his advances didn’t give him the right to order her about.
“Miss?”
Ida glanced at Miranda. The sympathy shining in the other woman’s eyes was