Her voice was frosty and she was aware of it. Though she believed Harper’s pure intentions ever since his apostasy from Kingsley, she did not think she could ever summon the will to be anything but stiffly formal with him. With other servants, she was warm and informal, preferring to treat them as extended family. With Harper though...
“Very good, Miss Fairchild,” Harper replied, “you are aware of who he is, though, yes?”
“A writer for the London Times,” Julian filled in. “That is why we have extended this invitation to him. I would rather have him as a friend than an enemy.”
“But I am familiar with him personally,” Harper said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “He is a rogue of the worst order and an author of sensationalist literature. The Times may have employed him once but no longer. Only the cheapest scandal sheets do so now. The kind that are devoured by Americans and the French for their accounts of debauchery and debasement among the English gentry. I do not believe that this man would write an honest account, Your Grace.”
Julian and Ester exchanged glances at this.
“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Harper,” Ester said, “we will act accordingly.”
Julian was looking at the library door where Napier's voice could be heard in conversation with Lady Janet.
“We must be careful of what we speak in front of him,” Ester whispered.
“Should I instruct the kitchen to send up brandy, Your Grace?” Harper asked.
Julian nodded grimly. Then he offered his arm and, when Ester took it, led the way to the doors of the library, knocked once, and then entered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The library was modest, with two bookcases which reached from floor to ceiling. A chaise and armchairs were arranged around a stone fireplace in which a fire crackled. A large red and gold rug covered a varnished floor. The room's fragrance was of hardwood and polish, old paper and book bindings. Ester's mother and sister sat on the chaise. Napier occupied an armchair and seemed to be speaking of architecture. Lady Janet looked politely interested, while Helen, utterly bored, jumped to her feet in excitement at Julian and Ester's entrance. Napier stood, a polite and patient look on his face.
“Mr. Napier was acquainting us with his expertise in architecture. It seems he is a man of parts, letters, and building,” Lady Janet recounted, though she shrewdly asked a question of Julian and Ester with her eyes, glancing from them to Napier.
“How interesting,” Julian muttered, “why, we have just become acquainted with him ourselves.”
“Mr. Napier came out to Loughton Grange in search of Julian,” Ester put in, as she took a seat beside Julian.
“That must be very flattering, Your Grace,” Lady Janet beamed.
“Whatever for, Mr. Napier. Oh! Not that you aren't very interesting, Your Grace,” said Helen quickly, “but why him in particular?”
“Ah, I must confess, I have a certain proclivity toward learning of the old stories of England's oldest families. And the Barringtons of Windermere are among England's ancient and most storied,” Napier finished as he dropped to his seat, slapping his hands on his knees.
“And is it for publication in a book? A history of English nobility?” Helen asked.
“More a series of articles for… my employer, the London Times,” Napier clarified in an evasive manner. “I should have liked for the work to be purely academic, but, alas, commercial imperatives prevail. The public buy stories of the great and good when they include the sensational.”
“Sensational? And what is sensational about His Grace?” Lady Janet asked.
“Garish legends concerning my family, I'm afraid,” Julian muttered, watching Napier with hard eyes.
“Legends, Your Grace? Would you say so?” Napier asked innocently.
“Iwould,” Julian stated, his voice low and flat. “My father was a scholar, misguided but a scholar, nonetheless. He had many erroneous views of the world which are at odds with our rational modern views.”
“Hmm. It is said that he was a warlock, head of a coven, and a devil worshiper,” Napier replied, ever unfazed.
Julian shot to his feet. “Have a care, sir! There are ladies present!”
Lady Janet went white. Helen sat wide-eyed, with a spark of curiosity. Ester looked to Julian, pale with eyes wide.
“I merely recount the stories circulating in the streets of Carlisle and the villages of the Lake District,” Napier continued, his tone remaining calm. “Stories concerning your family, Your Grace. And they include tales of a wayward son—cast out by his father, they say—cursed and exiled.”
In a heartbeat, Julian had Napier by the lapels, hauling him to his feet in one swift motion. “How dare you!” he roared, “you insult me and cast aspersions upon my name! Do you wish for me to demand satisfaction for your insult? I am prepared to do just that if you do not apologize and retract what you have just said.”
Napier seemed unflappable, though his color had risen.
