Read Online Shady Lady by Elizabeth Thornton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
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up to them, she had no doubt that they would take Eric away from her, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.
As gently as she was able, she eased away from him and got her pistol. Cradling it in the crook of one arm, she kept her gaze fixed on the yard. So far, so good. They were still in the clear.
Mrs. Daventry returned, the boxes were stowed, and they were soon on their way. It wasn’t until they’d left the lights of Barnet behind that Mrs. Daventry told her the bad news.
“The porter fellow from the school was there, Jo. No, he didn’t see me. But I don’t think it will be long before they’re after us.”
Eric’s voice held a betraying quiver. “What are we going to do, Aunt Jo? Mr. Harding will kill me for running away this time. He told me so.”
In the face of Eric’s terror, her own fears were easily quelled. Her voice was light and easy. “I’ll just have to shoot him.”
A laugh was startled out of Mrs. Daventry. Eric smiled. And Jo yelled to the postboys to spring the horses.
C hapter 6
V iscount Morden shrugged his broad shoulders as his manservant brushed down the nap of his fashionably plain evening coat. Though the viscount was only in his early thirties, his receding hairline made him look older. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was compelling. As Earl Brinsley’s only son and heir, he’d been raised from the cradle to become the head of a great and noble house as well as master of considerable estates and fortune. He knew his own worth and it showed.
He was in his suite of rooms in Piccadilly House, the magnificent home the Brinsleys occupied when they were in town, and he was dressing for a reception his parents were hosting for his betrothed and her parents.
“That will do, Bates,” he said with his customary half smile. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me, and there are some points I’d like to go over. Shall we sit down?”
Bates took the chair the viscount indicated, close to the fire, but he declined the offer of brandy. Though he appreciated the gesture, he had a highly ingrained sense of what was proper between master and servant. There was mutual respect and trust here, but he did not aspire to be treated as an equal.
For over forty years, he had been in the family’s employ, first as a bootboy at the age of eleven, then working his way up to his present prestigious position. He was more than a valet, more than a footman. He was his lordship’s personal manservant and answered to no one but the viscount. Over time, he’d become the viscount’s confidant. Lord Morden frequently referred to him as his right-hand man, and Bates tried to live up to that tribute. There was nothing he would not do for his master.
The business of Lady Chloë Webberley was a case in point. He did not know all the circumstances, and he did not want to know. When they alluded to her, they spoke in vague terms, though there was never any doubt in Bates’s mind that she had sealed her own fate when she’d threatened to ruin the viscount. At any rate, Lady Webberley was no longer a problem. Now all that remained to keep his master’s secret safe was to find and destroy Lady Webberley’s diary and any correspondence that might be incriminating.
To this end, at his lordship’s behest, he had personally hired an investigator. But Taggart had come up empty-handed. This did not seem to trouble the viscount overmuch. He believed that if anyone knew where the diary was, it would be Lady Webberley’s closest friend, Mrs. Chesney. All they need do was wait for Mrs. Chesney to make her move.
The viscount took the chair on the other side of the hearth, drew on a cheroot he’d lit with a taper, and exhaled a stream of smoke. “This fellow Taggart,” he said. “You’re sure he can be trusted?”
“Quite sure, your lordship. We’ve used him before. He’s not interested in finding out who is paying him, only that he gets paid.”
The viscount nodded. “Then you can begin by
As gently as she was able, she eased away from him and got her pistol. Cradling it in the crook of one arm, she kept her gaze fixed on the yard. So far, so good. They were still in the clear.
Mrs. Daventry returned, the boxes were stowed, and they were soon on their way. It wasn’t until they’d left the lights of Barnet behind that Mrs. Daventry told her the bad news.
“The porter fellow from the school was there, Jo. No, he didn’t see me. But I don’t think it will be long before they’re after us.”
Eric’s voice held a betraying quiver. “What are we going to do, Aunt Jo? Mr. Harding will kill me for running away this time. He told me so.”
In the face of Eric’s terror, her own fears were easily quelled. Her voice was light and easy. “I’ll just have to shoot him.”
A laugh was startled out of Mrs. Daventry. Eric smiled. And Jo yelled to the postboys to spring the horses.
C hapter 6
V iscount Morden shrugged his broad shoulders as his manservant brushed down the nap of his fashionably plain evening coat. Though the viscount was only in his early thirties, his receding hairline made him look older. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was compelling. As Earl Brinsley’s only son and heir, he’d been raised from the cradle to become the head of a great and noble house as well as master of considerable estates and fortune. He knew his own worth and it showed.
He was in his suite of rooms in Piccadilly House, the magnificent home the Brinsleys occupied when they were in town, and he was dressing for a reception his parents were hosting for his betrothed and her parents.
“That will do, Bates,” he said with his customary half smile. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me, and there are some points I’d like to go over. Shall we sit down?”
Bates took the chair the viscount indicated, close to the fire, but he declined the offer of brandy. Though he appreciated the gesture, he had a highly ingrained sense of what was proper between master and servant. There was mutual respect and trust here, but he did not aspire to be treated as an equal.
For over forty years, he had been in the family’s employ, first as a bootboy at the age of eleven, then working his way up to his present prestigious position. He was more than a valet, more than a footman. He was his lordship’s personal manservant and answered to no one but the viscount. Over time, he’d become the viscount’s confidant. Lord Morden frequently referred to him as his right-hand man, and Bates tried to live up to that tribute. There was nothing he would not do for his master.
The business of Lady Chloë Webberley was a case in point. He did not know all the circumstances, and he did not want to know. When they alluded to her, they spoke in vague terms, though there was never any doubt in Bates’s mind that she had sealed her own fate when she’d threatened to ruin the viscount. At any rate, Lady Webberley was no longer a problem. Now all that remained to keep his master’s secret safe was to find and destroy Lady Webberley’s diary and any correspondence that might be incriminating.
To this end, at his lordship’s behest, he had personally hired an investigator. But Taggart had come up empty-handed. This did not seem to trouble the viscount overmuch. He believed that if anyone knew where the diary was, it would be Lady Webberley’s closest friend, Mrs. Chesney. All they need do was wait for Mrs. Chesney to make her move.
The viscount took the chair on the other side of the hearth, drew on a cheroot he’d lit with a taper, and exhaled a stream of smoke. “This fellow Taggart,” he said. “You’re sure he can be trusted?”
“Quite sure, your lordship. We’ve used him before. He’s not interested in finding out who is paying him, only that he gets paid.”
The viscount nodded. “Then you can begin by
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