Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

T homas went through the front door of his house into the darkened hall, the stupid hope that Mrs. Smith would somehow be there lodged in his heart. But she wasn’t present and she hadn’t been near him for days. For all he knew, she could be back in London with her brother and have forgotten his very existence. He hung up his coat and hat and took off his boots before going into the kitchen.

“Damnation.” He hurried over to the range which had gone out.

He lit the lamp and emptied out the ashes from the range—something he should’ve done that morning but had forgotten in his haste to leave. At least he’d bought some kindling and had a delivery of coal to relight the fire, and warm the kitchen again, but it would take some time.

He opened the door into the pantry and took out a loaf of bread, some cheese and a jar of pickles. The range wouldn’t be hot enough to boil a kettle let alone allow him to cook himself a meal, so he’d have to make do with the cold offerings from the larder. If he was still hungry, he could always go to one of the pubs for a hot meal and a pint.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, he made himself a thick sandwich and ate it hungrily. The cheese had some mold on it, but he didn’t care, he’d grown up eating far worse, and he wasn’t about to waste good food.

Just as he contemplated cutting more of the bread there was a loud knock on his front door. It was so unexpected that he almost jumped before rising to his feet and heading down the hallway. He opened the door somewhat warily and was surprised to see Viscount Grafton standing there, looking his usual intimidating self.

“Good evening, Mr. Totton. May I come in?”

Thomas stepped back and the viscount followed him inside.

“I’ve never been in one of these houses before. Hepworth did well,” the viscount commented as Thomas took him through into the kitchen.

“I’d offer you something to drink but I don’t keep spirits in the house and it will take half an hour for the kettle to come to a boil as the range was out.” Thomas resumed his seat.

“I’ve just eaten, thank you.” The viscount looked at the quarter loaf of bread. “I see that you are missing your housekeeper.”

“I’ll find another one,” Thomas said.

“You must be wondering why I’ve called on you.”

“I assume you’ve come to tell me Mrs. Smith has been reunited with her brother.”

“Not quite. She’s still reluctant to meet with him.”

“Why?” Thomas was done with being deferential. If the viscount chose to come into his house, he would be treated like everyone else. “She obviously cares about him.”

“Well, I don’t know.” The viscount raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping you might have an idea. Is there any reason why she might be reluctant to see him again?”

“Apart from the fact that she thinks he only remembered her when he needed her for legal purposes of his own?”

“She’s at peace with that.” The viscount waved off Thomas’s concerns. “It’s almost as if she’s afraid he’ll condemn her for something.”

Thomas tapped his knife on his plate as he considered the viscount’s words. He did have an idea as to what might be causing Elinor’s reluctance, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell the other man what it was and betray her again.

“She did run off with her mother’s jewelry. Perhaps she thinks he’ll want that.”

“He hasn’t mentioned it to me.” The viscount hesitated. “Would you be willing to speak to her, Mr. Totton?”

“I was under the impression that she didn’t wish to associate with me, sir.”

“Balderdash. This matter is far too important for such niceties.” The viscount stood. “Come along. I have my carriage at the inn. I’m sure Caroline will be willing to offer you something better to eat than this.”

Elinor sat next to Caroline in the drawing room at Grafton Hall. She was far too tense to make conversation. Her hostess seemed to understand and hadn’t pressed her to reply beyond the barest civilities. Viscount Grafton, who thankfully hadn’t invited Elinor to call him Francis, had disappeared just after dinner after asking them to wait for him to return.

From the direction of their earlier conversation, Elinor was fairly certain he’d gone to speak to Mr. Totton. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Picturing her employer alone in his house without her to care for him was upsetting enough. Imagining Viscount Grafton arriving at his door demanding information was something else entirely. Thomas didn’t owe her anything and, after the manner of their parting, he might refuse to help her.

She started as the viscount strode into the room.

“I’ve brought him back with me, Caroline. Poor man was sitting in his kitchen eating stale bread and cheese because he’d let the range go out.”

The viscountess went over to her husband. “Then I’ll go and ask the kitchen for a plate of something hot for him to eat.”

“Not until he’s finished with Lady Elinor,” the viscount said. “He can eat then.” He turned to Elinor. “I do hope you’ll speak to him. It’s imperative that we work together to support your brother’s claims.”

Elinor stood up, her knees shaking, as Mr. Totton came through the door. He looked tired and the collar of his shirt drooped from lack of starch and a good iron. He met her gaze, his expression impersonal as he inclined his head.

“Lady Elinor.”

“Mr. Totton.” She curtsied and hastily sat back down.

“Talk to her,” the viscount said as he took his wife’s arm and left the room. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Silence stretched between them as Elinor stared at the rug.

“I hope you’ve been well, my lady,” Mr. Totton said.

“I’ve… been well looked after, sir, but I must confess that I miss my home.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said then paused. “You have been away for more than a year now.”

“I meant your home, Mr. Totton.”

He lapsed into silence and Elinor scrambled for what to say next. “I want to apologize to you.”

“There is no need. You were rightfully angry with me.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “I did tell the viscount that you might not wish to speak to me, but he insisted I come. I do hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”

There was nothing of familiarity in his respectful tone. He spoke to her like she was a complete stranger and maybe that’s how he saw her now. Even in her borrowed gown, as a titled lady she was socially far above him. She made herself meet his gaze.

“I insist on apologizing. You were right that I took my anger out on the wrong person. You have been nothing but kind to me, sir.”

“I was glad to help, my lady.”

She had the frustrating sense that he wasn’t going to let down his guard with her again, and who could blame him? She sighed.

“What exactly did Viscount Grafton ask you here to do?”

“He asked if I knew why you haven’t contacted your brother. I suggested it might have something to do with you taking your mother’s jewelry.”

Elinor frowned. “I had a perfect right to the jewelry. It’s written quite plainly in both my father and mother’s wills. Viscount Grafton knows that, and I assume my brother does as well.”

“So, Viscount Grafton said as much.”

“Then why did you come?” She looked appealingly at him.

Would he say that he’d missed her—that he’d simply wanted to see her face?

He looked down at his hands. “I did have one thought as to why you might not wish to see your brother, but it wasn’t something I wished to share with the viscount.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t wish to distress you, my lady, but?—”

“Please just say it,” Elinor said somewhat fiercely.

“I wondered if you felt ashamed.”

She blinked at him. “Of my current circumstances?”

“No, that was hardly your choice, was it?” He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere other than where he was. “I was thinking of a more personal matter.”

“That I shared your bed? I am not ashamed of that either and I never will be.”

“When you came to my bed you were not a virgin.”

“So?”

“If you will excuse my informality, I should imagine that most women of your high status would wait to consummate their relationship until after marriage. I understand it is a matter of inheritance.” He held her gaze. “You were terrified of bedding me, yet you did it anyway. At the time I assumed some man had treated you very badly and I wanted to make it better for you.”

She could only stare at him.

“Elinor?” He reached for her hand. “That is not a comment on your morals. It is more that someone forced you, didn’t they? And that’s why you left home.”

She tried to breathe, and he squeezed her fingers hard.

“Please don’t cry, my dear. I thought what you did was the bravest thing in the world.”

“Running away from home or finding shelter in your bed?” Elinor whispered.

“Both, perhaps. Having the courage to believe that the way that man treated you was wrong, and you deserved better.” He cleared his throat. “Your trust in me was a remarkable thing. I will never forget it.”

Elinor took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was my stepbrother, Denton.”

Mr. Totton went very still.

“I knew his mother wouldn’t believe me and I knew he’d keep doing it until I either died or was forced to bear his child.”

“The absolute filthy bastard.”

The fury in Mr. Totton’s voice gave Elinor pause. “How can I face Robert without telling him this? And what if he doesn’t believe me or, or what if he does, and he tries to kill Denton?”

Mr. Totton visibly regained control of himself as he faced her. “Your brother doesn’t need to know anything about this.”

“You’re suggesting I lie to him?”

“Not at all. I’m saying that it is none of his business. If you choose to tell him what happened after he has secured his inheritance that’s up to you.”

“But what if Denton told his mother and she uses it to goad Robert into open warfare?”

Mr. Totton frowned. “It will still not be your fault, my dear.”

“I hate him,” Elinor said fiercely and shuddered.

Mr. Totton reached for her and then seemed to remember his place and slowly sat down again, his fingers flexing.

“As is your right.” Mr. Totton paused. “I have been thinking of a way to make sure Denton never bothers you again. If you are in agreement, may I ask the viscount to join us so that I can tell you my plan?”

Elinor nodded, too overcome for speech, and Mr. Totton went to find the viscount. He returned with both Caroline and her husband and a maid with a heavy tray of food.

“The viscountess is insisting I eat something,” Thomas apologized as he came back in.

“If you must, while you eat, I’ll talk.” The viscount took center stage. “Let’s review.”

He turned toward Elinor. “Your brother is in the throes of attempting to regain control of his estates. He currently has no idea that I have located you—something I hope will change very soon if Mr. Totton has made you see sense.”

Elinor looked up at him. “Mr. Totton has a plan, sir. I have agreed to hear it.”

“Are you willing to communicate with your brother?”

Elinor met his gaze. “Yes, but?—”

“Thank God. Well done, Mr. Totton,” the viscount said.

“Francis, you are being very rude,” the viscountess said. “At least let Lady Elinor finish her sentence!”

“I am merely trying to speed things along. Lavinia Redmayne needs to be stopped. Lady Elinor can help with that. I don’t understand all the flittering about.”

Mr. Totton, who had gulped down a sandwich and drunk an entire cup of tea, held up his hand.

“I propose that I answer the advertisement.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“And tell Robert that his sister is alive?” the viscount asked. “What’s the point when I can send him a message immediately?”

“I will reference the advertisement in my letter, but I’ll send it to Lavinia. I’ll suggest I asked for money from the original poster of the ad and was denied. I’ll insist I want a financial reward before I fully disclose Lady Elinor’s location and I’ll suggest a place to meet.”

“Go on,” the viscount said.

“If I word the letter correctly, I believe Lavinia will send her son after me.” He tried not to let Elinor’s shiver distract him from his purpose. “From what I’ve heard about this gentleman, we can assume he’ll behave disgracefully. At that point, you, as the local magistrate, sir, can step in and commit him to the local gaol.” Thomas sat back. “Which gives us a bargaining counter of immense value to use against Lavinia.”

“She dotes on Denton,” Elinor said slowly. “She’d do anything to get him back.” She sat up straight. “I think your plan would work even better if he actually saw me.”

“There is no need for you to be anywhere near him, my lady,” Thomas said. “I would not expect that of you.”

“With respect, Mr. Totton, the only way he would react in the way you want is if I am present. If you are alone, he might be violent toward you and that I cannot allow.”

“Mr. Totton can tell Denton you’re staying here and we can manage the rest,” the viscount said. “Once he’s on my property all the power belongs to me.”

“Then are we agreed?” Thomas asked.

Elinor nodded as did the viscount and his wife.

“Then I’ll write the letter tonight and send it by special messenger first thing in the morning.”

“Come to my study and write it now, I’ll send it out tonight,” the viscount ordered. “And then Caroline will take you down to the kitchen for a proper dinner.”

“As you wish.”

Thomas stood and so did Elinor. She rushed over to him and put her hand on his sleeve.

“You don’t have to do this, sir.”

He looked down into her violet eyes and tried not to lose himself in them. “I want to, my lady. I have a burning desire to see those who hurt you suitably punished so that you can resume your rightful place in the world.”

“You are a very good man, Mr. Totton.”

He inclined his head. “I try my best to be a decent human being, my lady.”

The viscount cleared his throat. “If you’ll follow me, Totton, I’ll show you to my study.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Thomas was finding it very difficult to tear his gaze away from Elinor’s. “I’m coming.”

He followed Viscount Grafton across the hall and into his study. which was warm, well-lit, and smelled faintly of cigar smoke.

“Please avail yourself of the writing instruments on my desk.” The viscount lit a cigar while he watched Thomas. “I won’t frank the letter—that would give the game away, but I will send it by special messenger.”

Thomas took his time composing the letter, mainly because his companion kept chipping in, but in the end, they were both satisfied with what he’d written. He suggested he’d asked for money from the original poster of the advertisement and had been turned down and decided to go to the source and hope he’d be treated better. He gave the address of his workplace rather than his home and hinted at reasons why ‘the lady’ might have shared personal information with him that might also have value.

He signed the letter with his real name having no fear of discovery, blotted the ink and folded the page, sealing it with red wax, and his own ring.

“That should do it,” the viscount remarked. “I’ll wager we’ll see Denton here within the week.”