their country better. His brother had risked his life for the good of England. The least Daniel could do was try to shut down a scheme that took advantage of those seeking honest employment.
Chapter Three
Beatrice paused after Mr. Walker assisted her to alight from the carriage later that afternoon and stared up at his brother’s home with dismay. “My goodness.”
The mansion had the look of a Georgian villa and shouted wealth, with a three-story red brick exterior, wrought-iron garden fence and balconies. Just who was his brother to have a home like this? It was even nicer than Mr. Walker’s.
The imposing appearance made her even more nervous than she already was. When Mr. Walker had suggested she stay with his brother and sister-in-law instead of him, she’d been reluctant to agree. Something about her rescuer calmed her, but she understood and appreciated his concern about her reputation.
Mr. Walker followed her gaze as if seeing the house through her eyes. “They’ve made several improvements in the past year. Caroline, my sister-in-law, insisted on it.”
His amusement left Beatrice wondering what was behind his remark.
“There’s something I should mention,” he began as they walked toward the front steps. “My brother is the Earl of Aberland.”
Beatrice stopped short to stare at him. “An earl?” She glanced at her attire as a sinking sensation filled her. “Oh dear.”
“I’ve already informed Richard and Caroline of your situation. There’s no need to worry.”
If only that were true. She detested having to burden them by staying at their home even for a few days. Especially when she felt so overwhelmed by her circumstances and uncertain of what to do.
To think his brother and his wife were nobility was all the more intimidating. Especially when she was arriving in a borrowed gown without a penny to her name.
Her mother had been the daughter of a baron, but Beatrice had only met her grandfather once prior to his death and before her mother had passed. She’d met other members of the nobility during a ball hosted by the local lord near their village. But that had been a completely different set of circumstances than this.
The idea of asking for a stranger’s help when she couldn’t offer anything in return was concerning. She was used to being the one, along with her father, who offered assistance to others.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to try another registry office. At least not until she felt more herself. Which meant she was walking through that imposing door with its gleaming brass knocker and taking advantage of whatever assistance the lord and lady were willing to provide. She’d do everything in her power to show how grateful she was and pray that was sufficient.
“They are both kind. I promise.” Mr. Walker’s smile eased her concern.
If she weren’t careful, she could easily become used to his calming presence, not to mention that charming smile. Why he hadn’t yet married was a puzzle to her.
The front door opened as they reached it, the butler smiling at Mr. Walker as he bid them to enter.
“Lord and Lady Aberland are in the drawing room awaiting your arrival, sir.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Dawson.” Mr. Walker offered his arm, and they followed the butler up the stairs.
The drawing room was a welcoming yet elegant mixture of white and bright yellow that brought in the sun, something often elusive in London from what she’d been told.
“Daniel. Good to see you as always.” The family resemblance between the Earl of Aberland and his brother was immediately evident. They both had the same lean face, narrow nose, and a square jaw. Both handsome, though Daniel’s features were less sharp and more welcoming in her opinion. While the earl had brown eyes, his younger brother’s hazel ones didn’t seem to miss any detail.
Lady Aberland was beautiful with pale hair, green eyes, and a warm, inviting expression. She and her husband made an attractive couple.
“Good afternoon.” Mr. Walker smiled at them both before turning to Beatrice, his steady regard easing her tension. “Allow me to introduce Miss Beatrice Linfield.”
Beatrice curtsied, all too aware of her borrowed gown and shoes, neither of which properly fit. But they were much better than the nightrail she’d worn when Mr. Walker had found her, and for that she was grateful.
To her surprise, the lady rose and walked forward to take her hands, her smile genuine. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I’m so sorry to hear of the trials you’ve endured since you arrived in London.”
“Thank you.” Beatrice’s worry lifted a