Within a short space of time of escorting his charge into a wide hall, a clerk was ushering them up the stairs and into a large office at the front of the house, where a much younger man than Raoul had expected greeted them with a bow. He was dressed with propriety, but a rather colourful waistcoat matched the evident cheeriness of his disposition. He greeted them with a bow and a smile.
“I am Rusper, my lord.” He looked enquiringly at Felicity.
“This is Miss Temple, sir, on whose behalf we are here. But I fancy we are looking for your father. You, I take it, are Rusper the son?”
The young man grinned. “I am, my lord.” He directed a small bow to Felicity. “Miss Temple. How may I serve you? I’m afraid my father no longer conducts very much business. I’m sorry to say he has grown frail.”
Felicity spoke for the first time. “Then he is not here?”
“No, but I am conversant with all aspects of the business. What I don’t know I can readily find out. Pray will you not be seated?”
Receiving an agitated look from Felicity as she took the proffered chair before the fellow’s desk, Raoul struck in at once. “I believe it is doubtful you will know of the matters concerning Miss Temple, sir, since a great deal of time has passed since then.”
“Thirteen years,” Felicity said, her gaze now flickering on the younger Rusper’s youthful countenance.
His brows drew together. “I see. May I know just what this is all about?”
Hesitating, Raoul looked at Felicity’s profile. She was still regarding Rusper Junior with an odd sort of interest. To his surprise, she did not immediately speak of her affairs.
“Do you resemble your father, sir?”
He looked taken aback. “I believe there is a similarity. Hard to tell without examining old portraits, ma’am.”
She drew a quick breath and let it out, her gloved fingers restless. “I beg your pardon. It is just that there is something familiar about you. I might have seen your father, years ago.”
What was this now? Had she recalled more than she had told Raoul? Being in Middenhall had certainly broken through some kind of barrier to uncover memories of the past. But this fellow could not help there.
“The case, sir, is that Miss Temple’s father was, we believe, a client of Rusper and Son.”
“Jeremy Temple. My father’s name was Jeremy.”
This was news to Raoul, but he hastened to add helpful detail. “Mr Temple was used to visit your father here, at quarter day we understand, prior to his accidental death.”
Rusper Junior looked a little blank, but he cast a reassuring glance upon Felicity and reached out for a hand bell and rang it. “We will have in Knowlton, our chief clerk. He has been with my father for many years and will doubtless be conversant with the business.”
“Thank you.”
Raoul eyed Felicity in some degree of concern as she fidgeted with the petticoats of the singularly unattractive gown she had chosen to assume for this journey. He had a sudden urge to see her clothed as befit the lady she was, but suppressed it as the door opened to admit the lad who had shown them up. Mr Rusper gave order to fetch his chief clerk and presently a spare, elderly fellow in an old-fashioned wig presented himself.
“Ah, Knowlton, allow me to make you known to Lord Lynchmere and Miss Temple. They have come about Mr Temple, who was a client here some thirteen years ago.”
The elder man had arrived at the desk and executed a neat bow, but at this his head lifted and he directed a penetrating stare at Felicity. “Mr Temple? Mr Jeremy Temple?”
“Yes, that’s right, Knowlton. You know of him?”
“Indeed, Mr Rusper.” The old clerk flicked his junior a glance but his gaze appraised Felicity. “You have come from Bath, ma’am, I surmise?”
“No, from London,” Raoul began, but he was interrupted.
“I knew it! He did come to Bath, did he not? Mr Rusper?” Felicity waved an impatient hand towards the younger man. “Not him. The other. He came once or twice perhaps, did he not?” Her bosom rose and fell. “Why did he leave me there? Why didn’t he tell me who he was? Why didn’t he speak to me of Papa?”
Raoul moved to set a hand to her shoulder, pressing it firmly, his eyes on the clerk, who was looking wooden-faced. He clearly knew the precise answers to these impassioned questions. “I imagine you can throw light upon these matters, Mr Knowlton, but answer me this, if you please. Is Mr Rusper some kind of trustee to Miss Temple?”
The clerk pinched his lips together. The younger Rusper was looking bewildered, as well he might. But he frowned at the man’s silence. “Well, Knowlton? I certainly have no knowledge of such a thing. Is it so?”
The other’s wooden expression intensified. “I cannot say, sir.”
“Cannot or will not?” Raoul snapped.
