“Is that so? Very good.” Destry watched him a moment more and then walked into the room with Jess. “Now the question is are all the footmen as honest as this one? I’m going to find Belmont.”
“Des, he told us to stay here.”
“Yes, I know,” Destry replied blithely, and headed down the passage.
Jess watched him go, thinking he could be hell to live with. Destry needed someone to tamp down his impulsiveness. He wondered if Cecilia Brent was up to that challenge.
Once in the salon, he looked for Beatrice and found her seated next to her sister, with Mrs. Kendrick nearby. He saw the fear in her eyes and tried to think of a way to organize a private moment so he could reassure her.
Jess headed across the room, taking stock of the rest of the guests. Mr. Garrett was already there, talking with Mrs. Kendrick. Lady Olivia sat next to Mrs. Wilson, who was twisting a handkerchief and dabbing at tears.
Cecilia and Beatrice both rose as he came farther into the room.
Jess explained to everyone what was happening and they all sat down again or found seats, except for Beatrice, who wandered over to a window, away from the others.
He wanted to talk to her more than anyone else and she wanted the same, he could tell that, but he decided it would attract too much attention if he went directly to her. He approached Garrett first to ask about Crenshaw’s body and was assured that it was being preserved in the icehouse until it could be returned to his estate for burial.
How many times had the icehouse been used for something like that? He made a mental note to avoid any ices for the rest of his stay.
He paused to tell Cecilia where Destry was, which he phrased as “conducting some inquiries of his own,” and to ask Nora Kendrick if Belmont had given her any special directions. He had not.
Finally, Jess wandered over to the window where Beatrice was waiting with barely concealed impatience.
“I told them I was walking by the river. You have nothing to worry about, Beatrice. You will not be compromised.”
“Jess, listen to me.” Beatrice spoke quietly, with a sad smile as if she was seeking comfort instead of discussing perjury. “You will not lie for me. I will not allow it. You know they will suspect you. It is inevitable. I urge you to simply tell the truth.”
“No. It will make your chance for a Season very difficult to manage.”
“Oh, what does that matter?” She glanced over at Mrs. Wilson. “Cecilia’s beauty is all the entrée she needs. And the only reasons I was hoping for a Season were to have fun and to help Cecilia find a match.” She took his arm. “Do not lie to save me.”
He closed his eyes. Not seeing her intense blue eyes would make it easier to think clearly. But the feel of her hand on his arm reminded him that she was watching and waiting for him to answer.
“Dear friends!” The countess and Mr. Brent burst into the room. “I am so sorry!” The countess was dressed in the same clothes she had worn out that morning. She had not even taken time to change or freshen up. She went from one guest to another expressing sympathy and affection while Mr. Brent stood at the door looking awkward and very wet.
“Go to your father,” Jess said. “Do not let him see you standing here with me.”
“No. I want him to know that you have my complete support.”
“But I do not want your support, Beatrice. It only makes life more complicated.”
“Yes, I know, but I expect I am going to spend my life under my father’s roof and I want him to understand that it will be on my terms.”
Her words shocked him. She did not expect an offer of marriage in exchange for his ruination of her? Did this woman think of everyone’s best interests but her own?
The countess left the room, promising she would return as soon as she had changed. Jess did not know how significant it was that the countess did not even look at Abel Brent.
Mr. Brent watched the door close without expression. If ever there was a fish out of water it was Abel Brent caught with his secret out. He and the countess had been gone for most of the day. Jess guessed it was one of the rare moments in his life