“Would you care for tea, sir?”
Caleb looked at him and raised a sardonic eyebrow.
“Very good, sir. Your brandy awaits in your study.”
“Much better. I’ll take these letters with me, Deryn. If there are any replies, and I need them to go out quickly, I’ll take care of it and leave the envelopes for you to deal with tomorrow.”
“Of course, sir.”
“So you may consider yourself off duty as of now. And please wish Mrs Deryn a pleasant night.” He paused. “Her meal was a delight I savoured with pleasure, and her cake? Well, I’m sure men have killed for less. Treasure her, Deryn. She is, without doubt, a pearl of great price.”
“I like to think so, sir.” He held the door open. “I shall have young James attend you in the morning at the usual time?”
“Excellent.” Caleb turned to leave, then paused.
“Deryn, when I was out working the fields today…” he grinned at his butler’s sceptical expression, “ don’t laugh, I truly was working! And I happened to overhear what I thought was a conversation between two young ladies.”
“Really, sir?” His butler looked puzzled.
“Yes, really. And yet when I saw who was there—justonewoman.”
“How peculiar.”
“I think I caught a couple of names…Elinor and—and Bronwen. Yes, that’s what they called each other, and yet I swear to you, Deryn, that there was only one woman there. A slender blonde. I didn’t see her face.”
The butler’s expression was calm. Too calm.
“Ah. I believe, sir, that you may have seen Lady Elinor Molliney. I understand she is an attractive, fair-haired young woman of slender stature.”
“Hmm.” Caleb considered that. “It would fit. Molliney Park is over that way, on the far side of our land and beyond that stream, isn’t it…?”
“Indeed, sir. The Mollineys have held that estate for many generations.”
“But…” he paused, trying to find the right words. “Does she…er… talk to herself? A bit—what would you call it—addle-pated? Bird-witted?”
Deryn straightened. “Certainly not, my Lord.” He looked down his nose at his master. “Lady Elinor is said to be all that is delightful in a young woman, and you will hear naught but praise if you ask anyone locally.” He unbent slightly. “I believe she has been in London for some time, however. So I cannot presume to wonder whether that might have changed her slightly. But addle-pated or bird-witted? No. Out of the question.”
“Then who the hell was she talking to?”
“That, sir, is a question I cannot answer.” With that declaration, he turned and left his master standing in the hall with look of puzzlement on his face, and a growing urge to findout more about this ‘delightful young woman’ who talked to herself in a different voice, in the middle of a forest.
Although it was summer, Caleb was glad of the small fire in his study. Tylwyth Teg Abbey was damned cold at times, especially when the wind backed around to the west, which it seemed to have done during the evening. However, the room was cosy, and his favourite chair sat near the hearth. Also near to a small table upon which rested not only the letters, but a small bottle of excellent brandy and a snifter.
Caleb made a mental note to give Deryn a raise in pay in the near future. If he could afford it, of course.
And perhaps the contents of these letters might have some good news in that regard. So, with a sigh, he picked up the first letter, seeing from the seal that it was from his mother.
Lady Eugenia Howell, currently residing in Berkley Square with her sister, his aunt Almeria, would most likely have penned a short missive containing the names of the young ladies she considered suitable for her son.
If that’s what it was, then it was going straight into the fire, following the path of the other missives that revolved around the same subject.
Caleb had informed Lady Eugenia, in no uncertain terms, that he would choose his own wife, thank you very much, and she was not to worry herself about it.
Naturally, that statement had fallen on deaf ears.
Sometimes he wondered if it had been a mistake to let his mother move in with Almeria after his father died. But upon reflection, he knew she was much happier there than she would have been if isolated away from everything she held familiar, and virtually imprisoned at the Abbey.
As it was, the two women treated their widowhood as a licence to “manage” every relationship and budding romancethey could get their hands on. And joyfully attended the weddings they’d arranged. Of course, the fact that he was still single and out of reach was, he knew, a vexation that both women would probably kill to remedy.
