I’d often noted myself how appealing she was, particularly when she was in high spirits.
“And there isn’t a gentlewoman in all of Britain who doesn’t know about Mr. Gage’s delightful valet.” She threaded her hands together in her lap as she mused. “I suspect he’s received his fair share of invitations from the ladies of the ton. Maids and shopkeepers, too, I’d wager.”
I flushed at her bald statements. I was well aware that Anderley was considered to be attractive. However, Bree had always appeared to be immune to his allure, and Anderley paid little more heed to her prettiness than he did most women in his vicinity.
But of course, I had never observed them outside of our presence. How much went on belowstairs, and about the cities and estates where our inquiries took place that I didn’t know about?
I felt a protective surge on Bree’s behalf. If Anderley had trifled with her, or contrarily, if he’d refused to accept her rebuff of his affections, then he and I were going to have a serious problem. I liked Anderley. We had come to an understanding of each other, being more alike than we realized. But my loyalty would always, first and foremost, belong to Bree.
I knew Gage had counseled me to stay out of the matter, but I found I couldn’t. Not now. Not when other guests were commenting on it. And not without knowing how Bree felt about all this.
Lady Bearsden, however, seemed to consider it all a harmless romantic entanglement. “Ah, young love.” She pressed a hand to the tightly restrained white hair of her coiffure almost as if she feared her imaginings had rumpled it. “Now, then. I must thank you for whatever you said to my dear Charlotte. It seems to have made all the difference.”
I took a sip of tea. “I simply reminded her of what she already knew.”
She nodded. “Mr. Mallery is a good man. And those young children of his could not wish for a more doting stepmother.”
“Or great-great-aunt,” I replied with a hidden smile. It was evident how much Lady Bearsden was looking forward to spoiling them.
She chuckled. “Yes.” Then the pleasure faded from her gently wrinkled face. “But that’s not why I asked you to my chamber last night.”
I lowered my cup, waiting for her to speak. She wasn’t normally one to falter when something needed to be faced, so I wondered if it was the absence of the dowager duchess which made her hesitate. Perhaps she was wary of speaking out of turn.
“This body you found,” she began briskly. “Do you still believe it’s Helmswick?”
“Well, thus far, we haven’t uncovered any viable alternatives, and we’re still waiting to hear from his stewards and solicitors. As far as we know, no one has heard from the earl in over four weeks. As for definitive proof.” I exhaled a weary breath. “We’re searching for it.”
She nodded her head once. “Then it likely is the scoundrel.”
“Is he? A scoundrel, I mean.”
She tilted her head in consideration. “Perhaps ‘scoundrel’ is too strong a term. But he definitely isn’t a nice man.” Her face softened. “Not like my Lumpy.”
I was aware of her fondness and continued affection for her late husband, whom she called Lumpy. I often wondered what he had thought of this sobriquet during life, no matter how lovingly she said it.
“I don’t know much about Helmswick,” I admitted.
“Well, he comes from good stock. His mother, God rest her soul, was a lovely woman. But she had absolutely no backbone. Quite the wilting violet whenever any difficulties or confrontation arose. Lived under the thumb of her husband, and then her son, until she died.”
“Was her husband a tyrant then?” I asked over the rim of my cup as I lifted it to take another sip.
“No, not particularly. No worse than most gentlemen.” Her gaze was sharp, unflinching from the truth. “She certainly never seemed to challenge him. But their son was of a different mold. I heard tell that he and his father used to get into terrific arguments. It would send her to bed for days.”
“Did you ever hear what any of those arguments were about?”
“Oh, the usual, I imagine. A young man eager to kick over the traces.” She shook her head. “He never seemed to be able to please his father, was his mother’s popular lament. But in my opinion, he never really tried.” Her words trailed away as her head turned to the side, and I could tell she’d thought