Page 80 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Mrs. Ellery’s face fell at the reminder of Lord Draven’s pitiable state. “You’re very kind, my lord. That’s the best we can do for him now. Hope, and pray.”
“Indeed,” Georgiana murmured. “No, no need to escort us to the front door, Mrs. Ellery. We’ll just nipout the back.”
“Hope, pray, and catch the scoundrels who did this to him and make them pay for it,” Benedict muttered as they bid Mrs. Ellery a final farewell and made their way back across the carriage drive toward the stables. “Despicable villains, beating a man so brutally.”
“Not as despicable as whoever ordered them to do it.” Georgiana thought of Kenilworth’s icy gray eyes and a shudder ran over her.
They entered the stables then, and found a lad of twelve or thirteen years of age brushing one of Madame Célestine’s horses. The other horse had already been rubbed down and brushed and was in a clean stall, munching contentedly on some hay.
“Peter, is it? Good job with the horses, lad.” Benedict strode forward and dropped a coin into the young man’s hand.
Peter’s eyes widened at the guinea resting on his palm. “Thankyou, my lord.”
“Mrs. Ellery mentioned you’re from High Wycombe, Peter. Do you know Lord Draven’s family at all?” Benedict asked, stroking an affectionate hand down the horse’s nose.
“Not much, my lord. I don’t remember the earl as was, and this earl,” Peter jerked his head toward the house. “Don’t remember him much, either. He doesn’t come here.”
“You couldn’t have been much more than a child the last time Lord Draven was here,” Benedict said, more to himself than Peter. “Did you ever hear any talk in the neighborhood about Lord Draven fighting a duel?”
“What, ye mean the duel with the duke?” Duels were rare enough, and a duel between a duke and their lordly neighbor a thrilling occurrence in a small village like High Wycombe. Peter brightened considerably at mention of it. “Aye, I heard of it. People say as it was overa young lady.”
“Yes, I believe it was. Do you know what occasioned thedisagreement?”
“The way I heard it, both the duke and Lord Draven was in love with the lady. That’s what duels are always about, innit? Nobles fighting over women or money? Begging yer pardon, my lord,” Peter added, flushing.
Georgiana stepped forward as Benedict waved the apology off. “What about the Beauchamp family, Peter? They lived in this neighborhood too, didn’t they?”
“Aye, my lady, but the Beauchamps are all deadand gone now.”
“Do you remember them at all? There was a daughter in the family—Clara Beauchamp. Do youremember her?”
Peter shook his head. “Nay, except I know she were lost somehow, and never found, and the family right sorrowful about it, my lady. My grandmother was housekeeper for the Beauchamps back then, and she used to say as Mrs. Beauchamp died ofgrief over it.”
“Your grandmother? Does your grandmother still live in High Wycombe, Peter?” Georgiana clasped her hands together, sending up a quick prayer that Peter’s grandmother was still alive, and had an excellent memory.
“Aye, my lady. She’s got a little cottage down Crescent Road way.”
Georgiana looked at Benedict, hope surging in her chest. “Do you suppose she’d mind if we paida call on her?”
Peter gave them a doubtful look, as if he couldn’t imagine what a lord and lady would want with his grandmother, but then he shrugged, and his face split in a boyish grin. “Well now, I think she’d like that just fine, my lady. I can tell ye where she lives, if ye like.”
“We would, Peter.” Benedict dug into his coat pocket and produced another coin. “We’d likeit very much.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mrs. Payne, a tiny, white-haired lady of near seventy years of age, lived in a little white cottage at the end of a rutted road just outside of High Wycombe. Benedict doubted Mrs. Payne received many visitors, but she welcomed them with perfect composure, as if aristocratic strangers appeared on her doorstep every day.
Once they were settled in Mrs. Payne’s tiny parlor with refreshments, Benedict got straight to the point. He and Georgiana had very little time left to get to the heart of the duke’s secret, and Mrs. Payne was their best chance ofuncovering it.
“We hoped you’d be willing to talk to us about the Beauchamp family, Mrs. Payne. Your grandson Peter told Miss Har—that is, Lady Haslemere that you served as Mrs. Beauchamp’s housekeeper at one time.”
“That I did, my lord, that I did. She was a dear, sweet lady, never had a cross word to say to anyone. I don’t mind telling you I shed many a tearwhen she died.”
Benedict gave her a sympathetic nod. “The Beauchamps’ story is a tragic one. Were you attached to the family when their daughter Clara disappeared?”
“I was, and afterwards, too, up until Mrs. Beauchamp’s death. We didn’t talk about Clara after she went missing. Mrs. Beauchamp couldn’t hear Clara’s name without breaking down, and then she became so frail. The poor lady died of a broken heart, Lord Haslemere, and make no mistake.”
“I’m very sorry for it, Mrs. Payne. Mrs. Beauchamp’s grief must have been terrible to witness. Clara vanished the night of Lord Draven’s Christmas ball, I believe?”
