Patientandastute. “Yes. I’m fully aware that Greene, in particular, is not the epitome of jocularity, but do you have any idea why both his and Mrs. Campbell’s behavior bordered on rude?”
Miss Hart’s gaze darted to the floor.
“Please speak freely without fear of repercussions.”
“You are familiar with the scandal sheetThe Muckraker?”
Colin straightened to attention, and the muscles in his neck tightened at the mention of the gossip rag. “I am.”
“Mrs. Campbell received the latest issue yesterday. It mentioned something about Lady Manning and you.” A blush rose to hercheeks. “It implied some unsavory things about Lady Manning in particular.”
Not wishing to embarrass the woman further, and in truth, he wished to see the exact report himself, he asked, “Do you still have a copy of the rag?”
She shook her head. “Mrs. Campbell might.”
“Thank you for your forthrightness, Miss Hart. You may return to your duties with the girls.” He turned, eager to return to his study.
“Sir,” Miss Hart called, stopping him. “Just so you know, I don’t believe a word of it. It’s clear the girls adore Lady Manning, and I’ve found children to be excellent judges of character.”
Turning his head toward her, he gave a curt nod and left. Once in his study, he tugged the bell pull. Greene appeared moments later.
“Fetch Mrs. Campbell immediately and have her bring the recent copy ofThe Muckraker.”
Greene had been with the household for fourteen years, ever since Colin had taken up residence at Blackthorne Manor. But at the moment, he wondered if he’d ever truly known the man. Disappointment was too weak a word for what Colin felt. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to dismiss the man or the housekeeper. “And return with her.”
Wisely, Greene held his tongue before rushing off to find Mrs. Campbell.
Colin had an inkling of what the gossip rag had probably said, but he wanted to read it with his own eyes. Well aware that Honoria and her friends, including Anne, had formed aclubto discover the identity of the culprit, perhaps he could glean some clues from the wording.
But whatever the scandal sheet reported, he would not have members of his staff disparaging his wife. He rose and stared out the window, his mind drifting to how quickly his life had changed, which no doubt had been the focal point of the gossip.
“Sir?” Greene pulled him from his musings,and he turned to find the two as thick—and their expressions as guilty—as a pair of thieves standing in front of his desk.
Mrs. Campbell held out the spurious rag in a trembling hand. “You wished to see this, my lord?”
Colin scanned the rag, bypassing irrelevant reports. Not that he didn’t care that the culprit maligned other people, but news that one of a matched pair of chestnuts Lord Highbottom purchased at Tattersall’s had immediately gone lame—although unfortunate for Highbottom—seemed rather mundane for the culprit’s usual attacks. Nor did he care that Lord Felix Davies had been seen escorting Miss Lydia Whyte around town, or that Lord Edgerton was purported to have invested a large amount of money into the railroads.
Where was it?
Tucked away toward the bottom of the page, the name Miss Anne Weatherby caught his eye.
It would appear that Miss Anne Weatherby has an affinity for seeking a husband at the Duke of Burwood’s infamous house parties, this time with success. No doubt growing desperate from her advancing age, this lady of easy virtue has now trapped a grieving widower in her snare. Reports have it that Lord Manning, heir to the Marquess of Stratford, reluctantly sees wedding bells in his future. One can only hope his new bride will be young enough to produce the heir he needs.
How the hell did the culprit find these things out? Who in Burwood’s household could have sent word to London? Colin crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it across the room. He wanted to shout at his housekeeper that his wife’s virtue had been intact and that their compromising situation had not been the result of Anne’s machinations but his own daughters’. But the truth, although not as black as the spurious gossip sheet implied, was still enough to stir whispers.
“Lies. All of it.” His own lie condemned him, but he refused to justify and defend himself or his bride to his servants. “And from now on, I forbid you to have that”—he pointed to the crumpledpaper on the floor—“that sorry excuse for news in my home. You are dismissed.” To solidify his point, he turned his back on his two—previously—most trusted servants.
“Dismissed, sir?” Greene’s usually steady voice wavered.
Regardless of Anne’s initial impression of him, Colin was not an ogre. Grouchy, taciturn, sullen? Yes. Or at least he had been until Anne barreled into his life. But he was not cruel, and the implication of his butler’s question hit him. The man thought Colin had sacked him. “From this room. Go back to your duties.”
Soft footfalls and the click of the door informed him he was once again alone. He slumped into the chair at his desk, and he dropped his head into his hands. The comforting sanctuary of his study no longer felt like the haven he loved. Even in his own home, he felt like a charlatan. Always struggling to present the right image. The correct image. The image expected of him for any given occasion.
“Who doIwant to be?” The question hung in the air, unanswered. He truly didn’t know.
CHAPTER 26
Anne had only explored four additional rooms before supper, and none of them had a secret passageway. She had some hope in the billiards room where men would gather and brag about their business dealings and romantic conquests. At least that was her experience at her brother’s estate in Kent. Although there had been no secret passageways in Greenview Park, Anne had stationed herself outside the door of Andrew’s billiards room on occasion.
