Chapter Thirteen
Kitty sat to one side in the library where the men had gathered. The day already seemed about a year long, and she had to remind herself that sooner or later everyone had to eat something.
Had she been at Ridlington, or even at Aunt Venetia’s, she would have ordered food, but here she was uncertain of her status. Certainly she’d been welcomed by the staff, but a scandalous mistress had no place acting like the real mistress of the house.
Aunt Venetia had been informed, of course. She would wait for further news, since there was nothing she could do this morning. Nobody knew that the Ridlington contingent would show up in force, but now they had…well, Edmund might take over.
So she sat quietly and listened as the men discussed the matter, going over what had happened and how Hecate had been brought to Mowbray House.
“And no idea how it all occurred?” Simon addressed the question to Max.
“Not at this point, no. I’ve sent men to retrieve what’s left of the carriage. I’m deeply troubled, since Harris was a trusted driver for many years, and the carriage almost new.”
“And the man with Hecate?” Edmund’s voice was harsh. “Who was he?”
Max glanced at Kitty. “Dancey Miller-James.”
She sucked in a breath, which Simon heard. “Kitty, you know this man?”
“Everyone does, Simon. He’s a well-to-do member of the Ton, invited everywhere…in fact, I think he’s related to the Bishop that Tabby knows.”
Simon snapped his fingers. “That’s why the name sounded familiar.”
“There’s something else,” she said. “A few days ago—or it might have been weeks, since time seems irrelevant right now—Max warned me about him.”
Three heads turned to Max.
Who nodded. “I had heard Miller-James’s attentions toward Miss Hecate were less than honourable. I did my best to convey this to Kitty. In fact, it’s how we met on a more personal level than a dance at a ball.”
“Your source was reliable?” James asked.
Max sighed. “It was from the man himself. And no, he wasnota gentleman.” He looked at the three of them. “I will not speak ill of the dead, Baron, sirs. So I ask that you keep this information private. It reflects poorly on a man whose death will, I’m sure, be a blow to his family. I would that we show a modicum of respect.”
“Of course,” said Edmund. “Well put.”
“I have my moments.”
“We’ve heard,” said Simon dryly.
“So.” Kitty judged it time to make herself heard. “What are your thoughts, Edmund? Should Hecate be taken back to Ridlington? Can the household care for her? I know baby Hugh is growing apace, but he’s still little. Tabby can’t move into the Chase, of course. And James, you and Letitia are travelling up and down from London right now.” She blinked. “Where is Letitia, by the way?”
“At Ridlington right now. She decided to stay there for a few days while I came up to town. Edmund and Simon joined me last night and the plan was for us all to travel back together tomorrow. Just some business details to finalize regarding the parish of Ridlington.” He grinned. “Simon is now officially vicar of a real, documented parish. And Edmund has the official duty to assign the living to whomever he chooses. It’s all settled.”
Simon glanced at Max. “Our father never bothered to formalize anything worth a damn. We’re trying to close the holes he left in the Ridlington estate.”
“Good luck to you all on that. Bureaucracy is one of the appalling sins that can turn a sane man into a madman.”
“Hear, hear,” approved Edmund, raising his glass.
“Well, congratulations, Simon,” smiled Kitty, giving her brother a hug. “And that does explain how you all arrived on the doorstep full of righteous indignation so damned soon.” She raised a hand as Edmund opened his mouth. “Hecate first, remember?”
He nodded. “Hecate first. I believe we should take her home to Ridlington. What say you?” He looked around.
“It makes the most sense,” said Simon. “She’s clearly had the best of care here…” his glance at Max was grateful, “and travelling now, while she is still too ill to notice much, might be best. I’d as soon see her awaken in her room at Ridlington, and thus begin her healing.”
“Logical,” said James. “Your physician, Edmund. He’s reliable?”
“Very,” replied Edmund. “And the staff—well, they’re good with gunshot wounds. That’s for certain.”
