to consume their selections.
The moment of gustatory reflection was broken by Mr. Hinckley. “I suppose,” he said, his tone resigned and harsh, “that one doesn’t need to ask how the blackguard thought to take control of the estate long enough to sell it.” He patted the arm of his chair. “So easy for a man confined to a chair to have an accident.”
No one contradicted the statement; the sense of betrayal hung heavy in the air.
Maggie had paled. “Papa, when are we going to decide what to do with Masterton? I don’t think any of us”—her gaze swept over those seated at the table and also over Kemp and the footman, standing mum against the wall, silent witnesses to the revelations—“want him in the house.”
The forthright assertion—with which no one disagreed—refocused everyone on their next step.
Ellie glanced around the table; everyone was laying down their spoons and napkins. “Perhaps we should continue our discussion in the drawing room.”
Her father nodded and pushed back from the table.
Everyone rose. Godfrey once again claimed the handles of her father’s chair, and in a group, they quit the dining room.
In the hall, Morris and Pyne exchanged looks, then halted. Obligingly, Godfrey halted her father’s chair, and when Ellie stopped alongside, Morris said, “Matthew, you and your family know that Walter and I will support you in whatever you decide to do about Masterton.”
“And,” Pyne put in, “you don’t need to ask if we’ll hold our tongues about this—of course we will.”
“Indeed. However,” Morris continued, “it’s late, and as the night is clear, we should both be off home. There’s also the fact that Masterton is family, and it might be better for all concerned if Walter and I weren’t present—there may be aspects of your deliberations you would prefer to keep strictly within the family.”
Her father grimaced. “Sadly, that’s true.” He held out his hand. “Thank you both. I appreciate your consideration.”
Morris, then Pyne, shook her father’s hand, then Godfrey’s when he offered it. As Kemp came up bearing their coats, Pyne grinned at her father. “You can tell us whatever you wish us to know when we call next week.”
With nods to Ellie, the pair donned their coats, wound their scarves about their necks, set their hats on their heads, and when Mike arrived with the news that their carriages were outside, waved and departed.
As Kemp shut the front door, her father huffed and glanced at her. “As I suspect we all agree with Maggie, we’d better get on with it.”
They turned toward the drawing room to discover that Jeffers, who had gone ahead with Harry and Maggie, had returned to stand in the doorway.
He tipped his head toward the front door. “I heard what they said, and they’re right. It might be best if I took my leave of you as well.”
“Actually, Jeffers,” her father replied, “if we might impose, I would like you to stay. You have experience of men like Masterton, and while I have no right to ask it, I would appreciate your advice.”
Jeffers hesitated, then gracefully half bowed. “I would be happy to provide whatever assistance I may. I admit to feeling somehow complicit in what occurred—my firm does, after all, hold Masterton’s IOUs, and it was his need to pay them off that precipitated all this.”
“You, sir, are no more to blame than I am,” her father declared. He waved Jeffers back into the drawing room. “Now let’s sit and discuss what to do with our blackguard.”
Godfrey propelled her father’s chair into the room and positioned it in his accustomed place, close by the hearth.
Ellie had followed. Harry and Maggie had claimed two of the armchairs and encouraged Jeffers to sit in the one between.
Stepping away from her father’s chair, Godfrey joined her. With a slight smile on his lips and a gently challenging look in his hawklike eyes, he appropriated her hand and guided her to sit on the sofa, then sat beside her, openly retaining possession of her hand.
She looked at him, considered drawing her fingers free, then inwardly shrugged and left her hand in his, savoring the reassurance and comfort that flowed from the simple contact.
Thinking of comfort… She looked at Jeffers. “Mr. Jeffers, I assume your horse is presently in our stable?”
He nodded. “I rode over with Masterton. His horse is there, too.”
“This house is large, and the road to Kirkby Malzeard will be cold and dark, especially on horseback.” She smiled at Jeffers. “I hope, sir, that in the circumstances, we can