Rather than respond to her correct assumptions, Henry simply filed away the information that she was friendly enough with the duke to call him by his Christian name — something that was quite unheard of! Was she his mother? No, that couldn’t be.
“I can practically hear your mind working!” Lady Southridge called back to him.
“It’s quite common, Mr. Holloway,” Miss Lamont chimed in. “We are always in a state of awe and slight irritation with Lady Southridge. You’ll have to excuse her. What little discretion she had earlier in life is quite apparently no longer.”
“Berty!” Lady Southridge scolded, yet a moment later, she grinned. “She’s quite right, you know.” She glanced to Henry and then paused to allow him to walk beside her.
He tried to remain behind, yet she all but took his arm and forced him to stroll along. “Though it may be correct, one still doesn’t point it out. It’s impolite.” She directed her words to Miss Lamont.
“And I’ve always been the pinnacle of politeness…” Miss Lamont teased in a wry tone.
Lady Southridge chuckled. “Very well. I cannot point out your flaws without seeing my own since they are so similar. I’ll remain blind to them.”
“Your wisdom is astounding.”
“I quite think so as well,” Lady Southridge answered.
Henry walked silently beside them, making mental notes on their conversation and trying to determine the best method to get away.
“Tell me about yourself, Mr. Holloway.” Lady Southridge stressed the last name, as if trying to remind him that she didn’t believe it for a moment.
Henry nodded once. “Thankful to be in His Grace’s kind employ, ma’am. This here is my first trip to Bath as well.” He kept to the truth as much as possible, guessing that Lady Southridge would see through any more lies.
“Ah, and where are you originally from?” she asked.
He met her gaze head on. “Cheapside. Father was in trade, and through mutual connections, I learned of the position with His Grace, and thankfully, obtained a high recommendation from my previous employer.”
“Ah, and that’s where we deviate.” Lady Southridge grinned, but without the malicious edge he had anticipated. “Well, regardless, I’m thankful you’re here. Miss Lamont is the most troublesome of her sisters. A discerning eye is always appreciated.”
“Why, thank you,” Miss Lamont replied, her tone slightly acidic.
“If you can be honest, shouldn’t I be given the same latitude?” Lady Southridge asked calmly.
“Very well. It’s not as if he isn’t already aware,” she muttered almost under her breath but just loud enough that a wave of anxiety washed over him.
“Is that so? Well.” She flickered her gaze between Miss Lamont and himself, and he cringed inwardly to think of all the ways her assumptions could prove wrong, damaging, damning.
Or very accurate.
Someone had to leave, and it wasn’t going to be him.
That left her.
“I’m so thankful I packed for several weeks. I do believe this is going to be a diverting holiday,” Lady Southridge replied.
Henry held back a groan.
To think that earlier he’d been concerned about donning a red coat.
Little had he known, he’d be dealing with the likes of Lady Southridge.
The red coat seemed almost welcoming in comparison.
Almost.
BERTY MARVELED AT the way Mr. Willox and Lady Southridge danced around each other with their words. It was an art form, one she found quite impressive. Even more remarkable was Mr. Willox’s ability to hold his ground around the intrusive woman. Not once had he faltered, even when she’d directly challenged his answers. It would be a lie to say Berty didn’t find it all terribly amusing, but a heroic part of her heart chimed in for her to at least deliver him from part of the dowager’s attack.
“Lady Southridge, surely we can make it back to the manor on our own. Mr. Holloway, thank you for your assistance.” She slid him a dismissing glance and gently tugged on the older woman’s hand.
“Why ever would we do that?” Lady Southridge asked, pulling her hand free from Berty’s grasp.
Berty thought quickly, latching onto the only thing she knew the dowager couldn’t resist. Averting her eyes, she spoke softly as if taking her into confidence. “I have several inquiries… of a private nature… that I wish to discuss with you. It is of a delicate tenor.” She glanced up, meeting the lady’s curious green gaze.
“Off with you now.” Lady Southridge waved a gloved hand dismissively toward Mr. Willox and latched onto Berty’s arm, all but dragging her away.
“Who is this gentleman you’ve met, my dear? Why, Charles never mentioned anyone of interest! Of course, that isn’t significant. He never tells me anything of merit, dastardly man.”
Berty glanced back, meeting Mr. Willox’s gaze and earning a small nod of appreciation before he spun on his heel and all but ran from the maze as if the very devil was at his heels.
Biting back her amusement, she turned back to her adopted grandmother. “Well, it’s not anyone specific,” Berty hedged.
“Oh? Certainly, there is someone who has caught your eye?” Lady Southridge asked, arching a brow.
“I’m more interested in…” She trailed off, realizing that she actually did need to talk with someone who wouldn’t have a bias toward propriety in a match. At least, too much propriety. A grin tipped her lips. “Lady Southridge, I’m quite concerned that all the adventurous romances were already snatched up by sisters, and I’m going to be left with the dullest of the lot. I’m quite put out at the concept.”
Lady Southridge nodded once, glanced back over her shoulder, then strode forward. “That’s a perfectly rational question, my dear. Have you spoken to Carlotta concerning it?”
Shrugging a shoulder, Berty observed the low hedges that marked the garden circle. “Yes, and she doesn’t find it particularly concerning.”
“Ah, and that’s frustrating.”
“Indeed.” Berty sighed.
Lady Southridge’s brow furrowed as if considering an answer. “In my experience, love is never short on adventure. And, my dear, with your dowry from the duke, as well as your inheritance from your deceased parents — God rest their souls — you needn’t marry for security. You, my dear, get the privilege of marrying for love. And as such, you’ll certainly find what you seek. So, worry not, dear.” The dowager patted her hand.
“Do you truly think so?” Berty asked, needing confirmation. It was similar in nature to what Carlotta had said, but coming from Lady Southridge, it meant more.
The woman was adventure itself.
And mischief.
And if she said it, then certainly it had to be at least a little bit accurate.
“I’m certain, my love. Now…” She slid a conspiratorial glance to Berty. “…what do you think of that charming footman who isn’t truly a footman? Mr.… Holloway, is it?”
Berty took a slow breath. “Irritation isn’t adventure. And he’s quite possibly the dullest sp— footman that I’ve ever been around.” Berty hoped her little slip-up hadn’t been obvious.
“Love, Charles filled me in already. I’m fully aware of who Mr. Willox is. How do you think I knew to pester him so?”
Berty cast a quick glance to Lady Southridge. “Honestly, I just assumed you were omnipotent and knew all things.”
Lady Southridge tossed her head back in a jolly laugh. “Brilliant! And here I had to ruin it by speaking the truth. Tragic! You’ll, of course, allow me to still think you consider me omnipotent. It’s quite flattering.”
“As you wish.” Berty shook her head in amusement.
“So, Mr. Willox is a dull spy. That does seem quite unfortunate, and unlikely, if I do say so myself. I’d say, rather than dull, he’s reserved. A little too controlled…” The dowager spoke thoughtfully.
“Controlled, dull, irritating, bullying, aggravating — take your pick.” Berty kicked
a rock and it skidded across the grass and landed in the far hedge.
“Sounds like you’ve had more than one conversation,” Lady Southridge commented, yet there was a curious tone to her words.
“You’d be assuming correctly.”
“Hmm. I wasn’t aware that he was to… involve you. I was under the impression that you were here to simply take in the country air, and Mr. Willox was to address the issue — whatever it may be. Lord only knows with the current state of affairs in the country.” The lady cast a furtive glance heavenward.
“Regardless, our interactions haven’t been good. So that is my opinion of him.” Berty changed the conversation away from the irritatingly handsome and frustratingly silent spy. “How was your trip?”
“Changing the subject?” Lady Southridge asked.
“Yes,” Berty replied succinctly.
“Very well. I can see you’re not interested in Mr. Willox. Pity that, since he could hardly keep his eyes off you.” She sighed. “The weather was quite lovely, a bit of rain, but the journey was quite acceptable.”
Berty narrowed her eyes at the older woman. “Couldn’t take his eyes off me? Probably concerned I’d— Never mind. What I’m saying is that it’s not what you think. And I’m glad your journey was enjoyable.”
“Ah, my dear, how much you have to learn. There’s watching someone as if you’re concerned about their intentions and the like, and then there’s interest. And his expression was one of interest, my love. But if you’re not attracted, then it is of no import. He’s not titled, not truly of note, so it’s probably for the best.” Lady Southridge halted her steps and turned. “Shall we head back to the manor? I’d like a few moments to refresh myself before dinner.”
Berty was still considering her words but nodded absentmindedly, following her lead back to the manor. Certainly, the dowager was making something from nothing. There was no possible way that Mr. Willox had any regard for her other than grudging respect after she’d held him at knifepoint.
So maybe it was more caution and uncertainty than even respect.
Yet, Lady Southridge was an unusually accurate student of human nature, and shouldn’t her words be heeded, or at least considered?
As much as she wanted to disregard the question, she found her curiosity growing.
Regardless, she needed to speak with him concerning what she’d learned from Alice earlier that day.
As they entered the manor, Lady Southridge didn’t comment on Berty’s odd silence, rather patted her hand as they stopped into the foyer.
Mrs. Potts greeted them, curtseying and giving a wide smile. “My Lady! How lovely to have you here at GreenFord Waters. I have your rooms all readied, and Sara is awaiting you should you need assistance with anything. Shall I show you to your room?”
“Mrs. Pott, what a lovely sight to see another familiar face. I’d quite appreciate a moment to refresh myself.” Lady Southridge smiled warmly to the familiar servant.
“Of course.”
They quit the foyer and ascended the grand staircase to the second floor, leaving Berty alone and quite determined to find Mr. Willox before he disappeared somewhere else. She walked to the door that led to the servants’ hall and slipped into the rather dimly lit passageway, startling a scullery maid.
“Oh, miss. My apologies.” She righted the teacup that had tipped and scrambled away after a quick curtsey.
Berty thought to call after her, asking if she’d seen the newly employed footman, but thought better of it. It would only cause talk, and that was the last thing she needed.
When the maid disappeared around the corner, Berty thought better of her plan and exited the hall, walking back into the foyer. On a whim, she strode toward the library. The door was all but closed, which struck her as odd, since it was commonly wide open.
After pushing the heavy brass doorknob, she peered inside, grinning to herself in victory. Glancing behind her, she made sure no one was around to witness, then she quickly slipped into the library and closed the door.
“What in heaven’s name—” Mr. Willox folded up a missive and tucked it into his coat pocket, his gray eyes narrowing in irritation.
“Shhh, do you want the whole countryside to find you?” Berty replied with dry wit as she strode forward.
“What is it that you need?” Mr. Willox asked much quieter, yet his glare hadn’t decreased with his volume.
“I learned something today that I think is of particular note.” Berty shrugged, coming to a halt beside the oak side table where Mr. Willox waited.
“And?”
“And I thought you’d want to be aware… but if you’re finding so much success on your own then perhaps you don’t need my information.” She arched a brow and slowly turned as if to walk away.
“Very well. What did you learn today?” Mr. Willox asked as if under duress.
Berty grinned to herself then wiped the expression from her face as she turned to face him. “Alice, my maid, has a beau amongst the ranks. Captain Brockston. He was the same gentleman you met earlier at the tavern. I thought it might be helpful to know that you have not one, but two connections to the regiment. Aren’t secrets often divulged between a man and woman in love?” Berty asked.
“I wasn’t aware that Captain Brockston’s Miss Smyth was in employed at the estate. That is indeed helpful, as loath as I am to admit it,” he added.
“A simple thank you will suffice,” Berty replied saucily.
“Thank you.” Mr. Willox bowed slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. It changed his whole countenance from severe to almost delightful.
Blinking back her notice, Berty cast her gaze away. “You’re welcome. And I had one more idea…” Berty hesitated, uncertain if it was actually a good idea.
“And?”
Berty took a deep breath and met his gaze. “What if we host a ball? We can invite some of the regiment, whomever you deem a promising prospect for information. Then you can circulate a rumor that it’s a front of some sort, since the duke is already associated with the War Office. Anyone who is trading in secrets would certainly want to be around if something of merit is underfoot. Does that make sense?” Berty held her breath, hating that she was even giving weight to his opinion, yet, nevertheless, she was.
Mr. Willox furrowed his brow, his gray eyes almost swirling as he considered her plan. “That’s twice you’ve surprised me today. I’m almost afraid to see what tomorrow holds.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “It’s a potentially brilliant plan. I’ll have to fine tune the details, and there is the risk involved that you’d become involved since it’s at your residence—”
“More involved than thinking up the whole design?” Berty asked impudently.
“Yes. And remember, I answer to the duke, who can quite easily have me removed from earth without as much as a trace.”
“Very well, but you’re forgetting one detail.” Berty bit her lip, trying not to smile as broadly as she wished. “We don’t need the duke’s approval.”
Mr. Willox frowned. “I’m quite certain that we do.”
Berty shook her head. “We have the most perfect excuse and ally. Lady Southridge.”
“Bloody hell,” Mr. Willox swore then offered an apologetic expression.
Berty lifted a dismissive hand. “I take it by your response that you see my point.”
“No, I see how this can become a disaster,” he replied.
“Quite the opposite. Lady Southridge knew about you because the duke had already divulged the information. Add in the fact that her brother is Lord Graham, who is quite famous with the War Office as well. She’s oddly enough the soul of discretion when need be, and no one will even blink an eye if we have a party for her arrival. Rather, they’ll think it was her idea! Plus, add in the fact we can use it as a cover to spread the rumor…” Berty trailed off with a grin.
“You’re insane and diabolical. I’m not quite certain if I should be impressed or frightened. If you weren’t the ward of the Duke
of Clairmont, I might offer you a position with the War Office.” He shook his head.
Berty opened her mouth.
“Don’t even think about it. The duke would have me drawn and quartered.”
Berty popped a hip. “How medieval.”
“Ha, that’s what you think.” Mr. Willox shook his head. “Very well, speak with Lady Southridge and gain her approval on the ball, but do not divulge any other particulars, do you understand?” Mr. Willox speared her with a challenging glaze.
“Understood.”
“Good. Now, is tomorrow too early to find out if we are able to follow through with the idea?” Mr. Willox asked. He studied her, a raw power radiating from him. He surely didn’t need her assistance, but she was thankful he was humble enough to accept it. It spoke volumes about his character, and she found herself further intrigued by him.
“I’m quite certain I can have approval by tonight.”
“You’re far too forthright for your own good, so I’ll not meet with you this evening. How about as you take your… morning ride?” A grin tipped his lips, and Berty felt herself smile in response, even as her irritation rose at his words.
“What do you mean I’m too forthright?”
Mr. Willox nodded to the door behind her. “You’re in a room with an unmarried gentleman with the door closed. Quite compromising, Miss Lamont.
“I’m quite certain I’m more than safe.” She sighed, beleaguered.
“It’s still a considerable risk, Miss Lamont. One person peeking in, and you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.” He shrugged.
“Rather, you’re stuck with me.” She smiled sweetly in return. “But that wasn’t the danger I was referring to. I’m quite aware of the social conventions. I’m referring to the fact that of all men I’ve been acquainted with, you’re the least likely to be forward or act in a manor that’s even minimally flirtatious.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Willox crossed his arms, his grin melting into more of a daring expression.
A Hoyden and an Heiress (Greenford Waters Book 4) Page 5
