To Save a Love - Alexa Aston Page 0,24
my uncle’s study, trying to find any kind of documents related to having Anna committed and found nothing.”
“What of servants?” he asked Jessa. “Surely, one of them would know something.”
She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know, Dez. It happened so long ago. A parlor maid or footman wouldn’t necessarily know anything. I asked Beauchamp, our butler, about it years ago, when I was eleven or twelve. He was retiring, being pensioned off. Beauchamp warned me sternly never to mention my sister’s name and that she was gone and dead.”
“Do you know where he is, Jessa?”
“In Draymott last I heard. His brother runs the local inn and tavern.”
Finally, a place to start.
“I will go into the village now and see if Beauchamp is still there and learn what he knows.”
“I will go with you,” Shelton said. “After all, Anna is my cousin.”
Jessa huffed. “You aren’t leaving me behind.”
“We shall all go,” proclaimed Lady Shelton, who had remained quiet throughout the discussion. “Two hotheaded men might not learn nearly as much as two ladies who practice politeness.”
Dez had to agree with the viscountess. At this point, he wanted to bash heads and murder someone if Anna had been taken to such a place.
“Very well. We will leave now.”
“Our carriage is already ready,” Shelton said. “We should take it.”
The four quit the drawing room and went to the viscount’s carriage for the short journey into Draymott. They seemed the longest three miles in Dez’s life. He wanted to hope beyond hope that Anna was alive but knew to temper his emotions. Jessa had been very young and might have misconstrued the events she saw. Still, the butler’s warning and the viscount himself announcing Anna’s death—with no grave—gave Dez pause for concern.
They reached the inn and went inside. He skimmed the room. It was early evening and several tables were occupied with people eating or drinking.
“That’s him. Beauchamp. In the corner.”
He looked to where Jessa indicated and saw a man in his early to mid-seventies, his hair white as he hunched over a bowl, shoveling food into his mouth.
She started toward the former butler but he caught her arm.
“We don’t wish to air anything in public. We must speak to him in private.”
“There is a room in the back,” she told him. “A private one for traveling parties coming through. We could use that.”
Dez looked to the viscount. “Talk to the innkeeper and see if we can use it. Grease his palm if necessary. And bring back a tankard of ale.”
Shelton nodded and moved to where the innkeeper stood behind the bar. He wiped his hands on a towel and, after a moment, nodded. Shelton handed over some coin and the owner poured a tankard and handed it to the nobleman.
Returning to them, he asked, “What is the tankard for?”
Dez took it. “Go to the back room. Beauchamp and I will join you shortly.”
The trio crossed the taproom without questioning him. He watched Beauchamp and saw the man look up—and the moment he recognized Jessa. He ducked his head and grew still, trying not to draw attention to himself as they passed by.
Once they were out of sight, Dez moved toward his quarry, who now visibly relaxed.
“Good evening, Beauchamp.” He placed the tankard on the table. “I have brought you some ale.”
Wariness sprang into the old man’s eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his tone belligerent.
“Desmond Bretton. The Earl of Torrington.”
Beauchamp’s eyes widened. Whether in recognition of Dez himself or the title, he couldn’t say.
“I would like to speak with you privately. Stand. Pick up your drink. Accompany me.”
“Why should I?” the man asked defensively.
“Because if you don’t, I will break your jaw—and force you to speak to me anyway.”
Acceptance caused the former butler’s shoulders to sag. He stood and gripped the tankard, walking slowly to the back room. Dez followed, closing the door behind them once they arrived. He saw a large table with ten seats around it. Lord and Lady Shelton and Jessa were already seated. Beauchamp went and stood at the head of the table, where he tipped the tankard and downed its entire contents before setting it down and taking a seat.
Dez sat on the man’s right, across from the other three. Beauchamp’s gaze rested on the table.
“Tell us everything you know about Anna Browning,” he said, his tone brokering no nonsense. “What happened the day she was taken from Shelton Park. Where she is now.”
Beauchamp sighed. “I knew it would somehow come to this.” His eyes remained downcast