Page 64 of Lady Graceless
“No note with them?”
“No, and the fellow who pulled up with the cart would say nothing. He looked frightened witless, though. I do not know who he has dealt with, but he was shaken over it.”
This certainly was a mystery, and not one that he could solve without more information.
Wainwright pulled a folded note from his coat pocket. “Then this came on the heels of the flowers, though I do not know if it is in regard to them.”
Miles took the paper and broke the seal.
You are a terrible person and I hope bad things happen to you.
He handed the note to Wainwright. “I think it must be connected somehow,” he said. “Though I cannot make heads or tails of this.”
Wainwright read the one line of the note. “Someone wishes you ill, my lord. You do not suppose, what I mean is, far be it for me to suggest…”
“It is not Montclave,” Miles said. “None of this is his style.”
Wainwright nodded thoughtfully. “Then there is the other thing, my lord.”
“The other thing?” How could there be another thing?
Wainwright’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Lady Margaret is just now interviewing a valet in the drawing room.”
“What does Lady Margaret want with a valet?” Miles asked. “Has Harraby asked her to manage it for him? Deuced odd if he has—only a gentleman will know what’s wanted in a valet.”
“No, no, that is not how it’s come about, though I hardly know how ithascome about. My lord, if you wished for a new valet I could perfectly understand why—Moreau is temperamental and tiresome. But perhaps it might have been done in a more… discreet fashion.”
“I am well aware that he is temperamental and tiresome, but I am used to him. Why would I want to bring in a new valet?” Miles asked.
“I cannot presume to know, but you did place an advertisement for one. I did get my hopes up, but perhaps you were assisting another gentleman?”
“I placed no advertisement,” Miles said, wildly puzzled.
“I cannot understand it,” Wainwright said. “A notice with a copy of the advertisement for a valet, franked as fully paid, was hand-delivered a few hours ago. It was not even folded up, a footman read it and then of course shared the news below stairs as fast as his legs could carry him there. It was not a moment before Mr. Moreau had his hands on it. And then, a fellow turned up at the door in response to it.”
“He was sent away and told of the mistake, I presume.”
Wainwright shuffled his feet on the pavement. “Well, you see, my lord, it was just then that Lady Margaret was let out of a carriage by Lord Harraby. Lady Margaret very kindly purchased her special blend of tea for the staff, by the by—prepared by Mr. Twining himself. She took in what was occurring and insisted on standing in for you through what was sure to be an onerous task. There have been several fellows turned up since, and she’s insisted on seeing all of them! I told her it was not the thing, but last I heard her in there she was asking a fellow what his thoughts were on Shrewsbury Cake. Why? He is not a cook.”
“Lady Margaret has been interviewing valets that I did not advertise for, and someone has sent me flowers and plants indicating their hatred and distrust, and a note claims I am a terrible person. What is going on here?”
“I do not know, my lord.”
Miles had a sudden thought that really gave him pause. “What has Moreau been doing through all this?”
His valet was not likely to manage such a surprise with any sort of stalwartness.
Beads of sweat sprung up on Wainwright’s brow. “That is another thing—nobody knows. I would have thought he’d be downstairs, throwing those prospective valets out the door and kicking up like a bad-tempered toddler. But no, he has disappeared up the stairs, locked himself in your chambers, and we only hear the occasional thump.”
“Good God, I’d best get in there before he hangs himself or sets my house on fire.”
“My thoughts exactly, my lord. A quiet Moreau must be a dangerous Moreau. It is too strange to be otherwise—he is never quiet!”
Miles spurred his horse. This situation was unaccountable. He’d been off on pleasant errands and returned to a house in an uproar. Who was behind this?
Chapter Sixteen
GRACE HAD SPENTthe rest of the prior day working very hard to keep her head up. She had attempted to sleep for an hour or so, but it had not happened, and so she had risen and rejoined the family.
