Julius moved around the room, opening drawers and wardrobe doors, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing stood out to him, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to notice. It was not as though he knew Lydia very well, after all. He’d made it a point not to know her well as she was only useful for securing a good match, just as she would have been had she actually been his daughter.
“Good heavens, another wardrobe?” Julius muttered as he crossed the room to open the doors there. “How many gowns does one young lady need?”
He blew out a frustrated breath, unable to determine whether anything in the room was actually missing. How could he have known when he’d had no part in acquiring these items for her? That had been her father’s concerns up until a year ago, after all.
“My Lord! I did not know you were in here!” a young maid said, curtseying as she barely entered, her arms impossibly piled with even more gowns. The look on her face was one of terror, and he noted that she kept to the doorway rather than enter the room with him in it.
“Yes, you there,” Julius replied sternly. “Where is Lady Lydia?”
The maid shook her head. “I know not, My Lord.”
“You are carrying those gowns. Are you not her lady’s maid?” he asked, pointing to the garments.
“I… I am, My Lord,” the maid whispered, still looking frightened.
“What is your name?” Julius demanded. “How long have you been employed here?”
“Abigail, My Lord. And it’s been three years now, only since Lady Lydia was near to coming of age,” the maid replied, her eyes still wide.
“If Lady Lydia is not here, then she must have required your assistance in dressing for the day. Am I wrong?” Julius asked, leaving the maid to flounder for an answer.
“No, My Lord. I mean, no, you would not be wrong. But no, I did not dress her today. I do not know where she is,” Abigail insisted.
Julius got the distinct impression that this maid was lying to him. How would Lydia have so much as ventured out of these chambers without the maid to dress her, to bring her breakfast, even to chaperone her if she’d left the house?
“If you value your position in this household, you will tell me the truth,” Julius said, his voice dropping lower as he stepped towards Abigail. She looked towards the doorway behind her, perhaps hoping to see if anyone was coming, then shook her head.
“My Lord, I am being truthful. I do not know where she is,” Abigail insisted, a hint of panic blossoming in her tone.
“Abigail, are you quite finished with Lady Lydia’s washing? I need to—” Mrs. Blankenship said, stopping short as she arrived at the room and saw Julius. She looked from Julius to Abigail and back again, then pressed her lips firmly together in a disapproving frown. “My Lord. I did not know you would be in Lady Lydia’s rooms. That is rather strange, I must say.”
“Yes, well, I am looking for her and she appears to be nowhere to be found,” Julius said in a halting voice now that it was his turn to feel discomfort.
“I see. Well, I shall be glad to help you look for her, My Lord,” the housekeeper continued in a stern way, clearly hinting that she was not pleased to find him alone with a maid. “Abigail has duties to see to at the moment though, so if there is anything further?”
“No, no. You may go,” Julius said, waving his hand brusquely in her direction. Abigail curtseyed quickly and practically ran from the room, still clutching the garments she’d been carrying. “Mrs. Blankenship, I believe something is going on, something that is not right.”
“Is that so?” the housekeeper asked innocently. “Well, I’m sure the servants have no hand in it. I must inform you that sometimes, servants from one household do chance to meet and converse with servants from another household. I realize Your Lordship is rather new to being the Earl of Bronson, but it would do you well to remember to keep clear of the servants, especially those who are but girls such as Abigail. It is how unfounded, vicious talk gets started. Should you have any need to question the servants in the future, I recommend having either Mr. Green or myself present when you do so.”
The housekeeper gave him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow in disapproval before turning on her heel and leaving Julius to stew in Lydia’s room.
How dare she?Julius thought, outraged.To insinuate that I was somehow being too familiar with the staff? Disgusting!
He stormed downstairs and out to the stable, calling to the lad for his horse. Looking for that girl would have to wait, though. He had much business to attend to and a number of social calls that had already been arranged, calls that would hopefully redeem Lydia in the eyes of the ton.
“Assuming the ungrateful brat hasn’t made anything worse!” Julius muttered as he took a leg up into his saddle and rode away from Bronson Manor.
After an exhausting afternoon of paying social calls at strategically mapped houses, Julius was spent. His cheeks burned from smiling effervescently at every quip or sneer of the ton. He need only explain Lydia’s mishap at Lord Verdurn’s ball one more time, and this time, to the one whose opinion counted above all others.
Arguably the grand dame of the ton, Lady Medvale was the person to know. Her husband had a seat in the House of Lords, but even without his power and prestige, the Countess’ wealth as the only daughter of a prominent Duke and cousin to the King himself was more than sufficient.
But she was nearly eighty years old and had no time for foolishness, especially from young ladies at balls. Rumor had it that Lady Medvale, while not personally a witness to Lydia’s great undoing, knew of the incident and had nothing but scorn for Lydia.
“Are you sure it is wise to pay her a call after… the other evening?” one particularly forgiving Duchess had asked when Julius announced his intended destination.
“I don’t see why not,” Julius said, rather confident following an afternoon of successful visits. “Of all people, she should be the most determined to hear the truth of poor Lady Lydia’s incident and then decide for herself—as you have, of course—that the unfortunate girl is merely a victim of gravity and circumstance.”
Julius arrived at Lady Medvale’s home in a rather fashionable section of London. The liveried footman who stood sentry outside nodded politely when Julius stated his name, and immediately fetched the butler who showed Julius inside.
