by Cheryl Holt
He’d never been especially brave, and he was probably about to be fired, but Lord Benton had to be yanked to his senses. Newman prayed that the sophisticated, experienced naval officer would listen to reason. If he didn’t, if he flew into a rage, then Newman would be out the door very soon. He’d packed his bags—just in case.
After a tad more waiting, the Earl sauntered in. If he was discomfited by Newman being there too, he didn’t show it. There were two footmen hovering as well. They helped him with his food and his tea, then they all dawdled, observing him, eager to be necessary.
Once he’d finished his meal, Newman took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Lord Benton, I must confer privately with you on an important topic.”
The Earl froze, then he asked, “Are you sure you want to talk about it? Should you?”
“I’ve considered incessantly, my lord, and I have to.”
The footmen were agog with speculation, and he shooed them out and shut the door. Lord Benton leaned back and tossed his napkin on his plate. He gestured to the chair across.
“Sit, would you?” he said. “I’d hate to strain my neck staring up at you.”
“I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, but suit yourself.”
Newman didn’t hesitate. He had to spit it out or he’d lose his courage.
“It’s about Miss Bates.”
Lord Benton simply raised a brow. “What about her?”
“Please don’t pretend to be unaware of what this is concerning.”
“All right, I won’t pretend. Speak your piece.”
“First off, I’d like to state that I have enjoyed working for your family. I’ve always been grateful for my job.”
“Good to know. Now get on with it.”
“I hope I can be frank without jeopardizing my position.”
“We’ll see I guess.”
Newman felt as if he was running toward a cliff, as if he was about to jump over. “Miss Bates can’t continue to reside here, Lord Benton. She must leave immediately. Today—if we can arrange another place for her that fast.”
“This is my house, and I can invite whomever I like to stay in it with me. I don’t believe her presence is any of your business.”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m making it my business. She has no relatives to guide her in her decisions. It is a recipe for disaster.”
Lord Benton shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Will you deny having wicked intentions? You can’t. I heard the two of you chatting last night. You are much too worldly for her, and she is much too naïve to be involved with you.”
“Maybe,” Lord Benton said again.
“You are on your own as well, Lord Benton. You have no parent or relative to urge caution either, so I am urging caution. I am begging you to remove her before calamity strikes.”
“You’re very bold, Newman.”
“Not really. I just can’t bear to watch what’s happening. A man can’t contemplate what you’re contemplating unless he’s prepared to wed.”
“I realize that.”
“Are you about to marry her, Lord Benton? The question has to be posed, and it has to be answered.”
It was a pretty speech, a daring speech, and it seemed to have an effect. Lord Benton’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced down at his plate.
“No, I’m not ready to wed.”
“As that is your reply, I categorically insist that you find new lodging for her. At once.”
Lord Benton scowled. “I like having her here. Daisy too. I don’t want them to depart.”
“Lord Benton, we have a full staff at Benton House. Most of your servants are young and impressionable. You cannot carry on like this in front of them. We are all good Christians, and we can’t be party to such immorality.”
Lord Benton blew out a heavy breath. “I hadn’t considered how the servants might view this.”
“Well, you need to think about them,” Newman stoically said.
“I will. Thank you for being candid with me. I appreciate it.”
He stood and marched out without further comment.
Newman wasn’t certain where they’d left it, wasn’t certain if his arguments had been persuasive, but he hadn’t been fired. He was so relieved that his knees gave out, and he staggered over to a chair and collapsed down which meant he was sitting on a family chair for the first time ever.
He tarried until the footmen peeked in and asked if they could clean up the breakfast mess. If they had an opinion about Newman’s condition, they didn’t voice it.
He walked out and headed to his office behind the kitchen. He pondered and fretted, wondering what was best, wondering what was worst, then he plopped down and wrote a letter to the Countess about Lord Benton’s antics with Miss Bates.
The star-crossed pair was about to turn the kingdom upside down with their salacious amour, and the Countess hated a scandal. She’d endured too many of them.
Newman wasn’t a Prescott servant. He was a Slater servant, and he’d been lucky enough to be hired by her after her father’s bankruptcy. He’d never stopped being grateful.
He bluntly apprised her of the dire situation, and he requested guidance and assistance. He was greatly worried that his words to Lord Benton had had minimal impact and would make no difference.
Barbara Prescott would know what to do. She could discuss it with the Earl on an equal footing and wring out concessions Newman could never garner on his own.
He read the message over and over, anxious to be sure he’d conveyed the correct sentiment. Then he sanded the missive, sealed it, and dropped it in the post so it could go out with the afternoon’s mail.
* * * *
Peyton knocked on the door, and it was quickly answered by a housemaid.
“May I help you?” the girl asked.
“I am here to see Maud Bates. Is she available?”
“I’ll have to check. Who may I tell her is calling?”
“Peyton Prescott, Lord Benton.” He didn’t wait to be admitted. He simply barged in. As he swept into the front parlor, he said, “After you announce me, don’t claim she won’t attend me. If she doesn’t show herself, I’ll search room to room until I locate her.”
He wasn’t usually so rude, and he never tossed around his newly-bestowed title as if people should bow down, but the current circumstance seemed to require it. He’d never met Maud Bates, but he was positive he wouldn’t like her.
He couldn’t deduce his plan. It was ridiculous to waste any energy on the horrid woman, but after he’d been scolded by Newman—his own butler!—he’d had to flee for a few hours.
He’d like to be angry with the man for his sincere remarks, but Newman’s attitude was completely justified. Jo had to leave Benton House, and he should have been in the city, talking to a rental agent about vacant lodging.
Instead, he’d ridden to the country, hoping the wide-open spaces would calm his temper. He’d assumed he was traveling aimlessly, but when he’d found himself in Telford, it appeared he’d had a destination in mind after all.
Maud’s residence wasn’t overly grand, but it was a fine property nonetheless. Two stories high, constructed of red brick with black shutters, it looked solid and sturdy. There were plenty of windows with flowerboxes under them, but there didn’t seem to be a gardener. It was the height of summer, but no plants bloomed in the boxes.
The parlor was obviously a woman’s room. There were numerous decorative tables, and they were covered with doilies, figurines, and other ornaments. Embroidered pillows adorned the sofa. They hinted at dreary winter evenings spent stitching by the fire.
He tried to imagine Jo living in the house, but couldn’t. Had she ever been happy? Or, more likely, had she been bored to tears?
The maid hustled off to find Maud, and Peyton brazenly made himself at home, but then, no butler had strolled in to offer refreshments.
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There was a tray in the corner with a brandy decanter on it. He poured himself a glass, and he was sipping it when Maud hurried in.
“Lord Benton,” she nervously said, “this is…ah…a surprise.”
“Miss Bates, I presume?”
“Yes.” A man entered behind her, and she gestured to him. “May I present my betrothed, Mr. Townsend? He’s visiting from London.”
“How nice,” Peyton muttered, his surly tone indicating he couldn’t care less.
It was apparent she was terrified over his arrival. There was only one reason she had a connection to him, and that reason was her daughter. Mr. Townsend wasn’t aware of that fact though.
She had to be panicked that Peyton had come to confer about Daisy, that he was about to spill the beans and ruin her engagement. But Maud and her pathetic fiancé didn’t matter to Peyton in the least.
“We were just sitting down to eat,” Maud said. “Will you join us?”
“No.”
“You’re Neville’s brother, aren’t you?” Townsend asked. “You’re the new earl? Peyton Prescott, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I think you went to school with my brother, Freddie.”
“I can’t recall,” Peyton lied. “He must not have been that memorable.”
Peyton hadn’t glanced at Townsend who recognized he was being snubbed. He bristled, but didn’t comment as Peyton kept his focus on Jo’s sister. He couldn’t conceal his disdain. She was homely, not ugly exactly, but not pleasing in even the slightest way.
She was chubby, and her gown bulged at the seams, accentuating her excess weight, but it was her eyes that were depressing. She looked like a cold, hard person who would be difficult to tolerate.
“I’m here on your sister’s behalf,” he said.
“Jo sent you?” She forced a smile. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted.”
“We are.” Maud stared, expecting Peyton to elaborate, but he didn’t. “You kicked her out without her clothes, and I’ve volunteered to retrieve them.”
Townsend frowned at Maud, at Peyton. “Wait a minute. Maud didn’t kick out her sister. She’s away, staying with relatives.”
“Is that what she told you?” Peyton scoffed. “If that’s the sort of candor the two of you practice, I predict you will have a very interesting marriage.”
Townsend glared at Maud, but she was stoically silent. Clearly, a quarrel would erupt after Peyton left.
“I assume you still have her wardrobe?” he asked Maud, his furious demeanor warning her that she better have.
“Ah…yes…I have her clothes.”
“And there was a jar she needed, with some coins in it. It was special to her. Do you have that as well?”
“Everything is in her room. We haven’t touched a single item.”
“Good. I want it all, and I’ve arranged for a woman from the village to stop by and pack it. Then it will be shipped to London.”
“Oh.”
She might have argued with him, and he sternly inquired, “Will there be a problem with you giving her her clothes, Miss Bates? I’m sure there’s not. You tossed her out on the road with nothing.”
“That’s not true!” Maud huffed.
Peyton tsked with offense. “You may wallow in your fantasy, but I won’t lower myself by debating it with you.”
Townsend butted in again. “I’m confused by all of this, Benton, and obviously, I’ve been in the dark with regard to Josephine.”
“This situation doesn’t concern you, Townsend.” Peyton was still glowering at Maud.
“No, no, of course it doesn’t,” the obsequious toad agreed, “but we’re fond of Josephine. We wouldn’t like her to be uncomfortable or imperiled. We’re happy to let her have her clothes.” He nudged his fiancée. “Aren’t we, Maud?”
Maud’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder she could speak. “Yes, we’re very happy to allow it.”
“Marvelous,” Peyton said to her.
“Ah…where is Jo living?” Maud asked. “I’ve been worried about her.”
“You were worried? Your comment will have me laughing all the way to town.”
“I have been worried!” she claimed, but he ignored her protest.
“The woman I’ve hired will arrive shortly. Josephine’s belongings should be sent tomorrow, and if anything is missing, I’ll hold you responsible.” He raised a brow. “And I’ll be back to find out why.”
He whipped away and departed. Luckily, they didn’t follow him out. He mounted his horse and rode away, and he figured he’d be angry and aggrieved, but actually, he was feeling quite grand. He’d recovered Jo’s clothes and Daisy’s jar, and he was excited to learn how Jo would react when her garments appeared. No doubt she’d be incredibly grateful, and any gratitude would ultimately work to his benefit.
Did that make him an unredeemable cad? Could it be? With Jo’s happiness on the line, the answer to that question was irrelevant.
* * * *
Barbara walked into the foyer of Benton House. She hadn’t visited in ages, and she took a hasty appraisal to ensure naught had changed.
She didn’t like to come to London. People knew about her awful marriage, about her father and brother going bankrupt and their losing all they owned. For her, London was an unrelenting slog of pitying glances, snide insults, and rank gossip, which she avoided by hiding in the country.
Newman was standing in the corner, and they shared a private look where Barbara informed him she wouldn’t give him away to Peyton. His letter about Peyton’s reckless amour had been completely appropriate. Later on, she’d reward him.
She was disgusted by Peyton’s conduct, but not surprised by it. He was Neville’s brother after all. She and Richard had been tiptoeing around him, terrified they’d enrage him and be evicted, but he’d proved himself a milksop when he had to put his foot down and mean it.
He’d ordered Richard to leave Benton and Barbara to move to the Dower House, but he hadn’t checked to guarantee they’d complied. He’d warned that investigators would carry out an audit, but they hadn’t. He was furious that Richard had expelled the three bastards from the estate, but he hadn’t located them and brought them back.
So far, his only concrete step had been to seize control of the bank accounts, but Barbara rarely accessed them anyway, so it had scarcely caused a ripple in the fabric of her existence.
It was clear Peyton was all pomp and bluster. He liked to complain and strut about, but when tough decisions were required, he didn’t follow through. He was a soldier, but not a fighter, and in Barbara, he’d met his match. She was done placating him.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Countess,” Newman said.
“I realize you weren’t expecting me. I hope you don’t mind my showing up without any notice.”
“We’re always delighted to have you. Will you be staying with us for a bit?”
“No. I’ll stay with my brother, Roger.”
She hadn’t notified Roger that she’d be spending the night, and it would be for just the one night. She was eager to return to the country so she didn’t have any unpleasant encounters with old acquaintances.
She could have tarried at Benton House, but she and her brother-in-law were about to quarrel, and if Miss Bates was in residence, Barbara would never sleep under the same roof. She viewed herself as a modern female and definitely not a prude, but there were some behaviors a Christian woman couldn’t abide.
“Is Lord Benton here?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s in the library. Shall I announce you?”
“Don’t bother. He and I will have a quick chat, then I’ll be off.”
Newman looked relieved to be out of it. She handed him her bonnet and shawl, and she swept by him and down the hall. Peyton was seated at the desk in the ostentatious room and buried in a large stack of correspondence. She didn’t knock or request permission to enter. She simply
strolled in.
On observing her, his expression was unreadable, so she couldn’t deduce if he was irked, curious, or shocked to see her—or if he had no opinion about her arrival at all. She suspected it was the latter.
“Barbara, this is a surprise. What brings you to town?”
“Hello, Peyton.” She shut the door and pulled up a chair. “I had to talk to you.”
“If you’d travel all this way, the topic must be vital.”
“It is. I had a letter from the servants.”
“Oh, so they are spying on me.”
“They’re not spying,” she insisted. “They’re simply concerned.”
“About what?”
She hesitated. She’d assumed she could blurt it out, but now that they were face to face, it seemed appallingly difficult.
“Well?” he asked when she couldn’t begin. “What is it?”
“I’m told Josephine Bates is living with you, and you’ve grown quite fond of her.”
For a moment, he froze, and a fierce tempest flashed in his eyes, but it was swiftly masked. “Yes, Miss Bates is living here.”
“I’m certain you understand that the situation can’t continue.”
“No, I don’t understand that.”
“I shouldn’t have to spell it out. It will embarrass both of us.”
“I demand you explain,” he said. “I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear.”
“You are a bachelor, Peyton, and Miss Bates is a maiden, so it’s very improper. Also, we employ many young people. They can’t be party to such a depraved spectacle.”
“Yes, I’ve had that dilemma pointed out to me. In my own defense, Miss Bates is experiencing a few personal problems. I’m merely offering her shelter until I can make other arrangements.”
“I won’t dignify that false comment with a reply. I have it on good authority that there’s mischief occurring, so it’s only a matter of time until it’s a catastrophe. You’ve just inherited the title. Would you like to immediately become immersed in a very public scandal?”
“Not really.”
“And how about the navy? Aren’t there morality rules for sailors?”
