The carriage door opened, and he slid over on the seat then climbed down the step. He reached back for India’s hand, satisfied when she curled it trustingly around his.
“You don’t suppose...” she began as she climbed down beside him.
“Suppose what?”
“That we are too late,” she finished after a swallow.
“I pray we are not,” he said grimly. “Someone wants the information we have very badly. We must proceed with extreme caution in our plans.”
She nodded and gripped his hand tighter as they walked up the stone path to the front door of the modest townhome. On the fringes of what would be considered the upper echelons of society, the residence was still in a very respectable location.
He knocked and waited for a response.
Almost immediately the door swung open and a young man peered curiously at them. As if remembering some important duty, he straightened his stance and adopted a most severe expression.
“Your card please,” he said with exaggerated stiffness.
Ridge raised his brow, but dug into his pocket for the requested item.
The young man reached for the card then cleared his throat several times. “I will inform Mrs. Unster that your grace, er uh your lordship wishes to see her.”
His accent flipped from forced eloquence to a more base sound, one Ridge couldn’t quite place, but it was becoming clearer that this man didn’t belong in the position of a butler. Or a footman for that matter.
The man started to walk away, leaving Ridge and India standing in the doorway, then he turned around and rushed back.
“Begging your pardon, my lord. Please come this way.”
His face burned bright red at his slip in propriety, and Ridge suppressed a smile.
They followed the butler into the sitting room where he gestured for them to sit down.
“I’ll inform Mrs. Unster of your presence,” he said before hurrying from the room.
India sat down on the settee and Ridge claimed an armchair a few feet away. They glanced at each other, and Ridge could still see uneasiness in her eyes. A few moments later, an elderly woman bustled into the room and relief showed stark in India’s expression.
“Hullo there. I’m Mrs. Unster,” she sang out as she swept forward.
Ridge rose and captured her extended hand, brushing a kiss over the top of her glove.
“Viscount Ridgewood at your service, madam. And this is India Ashton,” he said gesturing toward India who was now standing in front of the settee.
Mrs. Unster swung around to stare at India. “Oh you poor dear!” She rushed over and immediately enfolded India in her arms.
“I heard of your father. A most unfortunate event. The world has lost not one, but two adventurous souls.”
India stood awkwardly in the woman’s embrace, her eyes finding Ridge and looking at him in confusion.
“Thank you, Mrs. Unster,” she said huskily. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother.”
Mrs. Unster let her go and waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh pish and posh. I never saw the old coot anyway. He was always off in some far flung corner of the world trying to uncover some artifact.”
She looked back at Ridge. “I apologize if James offended you.”
He stared blankly at her. “James?”
“The young man who answered the door,” she explained. “You see, he’s not truly a butler. Or even trained as a household employee. But I have a soft heart, and he needed a position.” She nodded her head sagely. “He’ll learn soon enough.”
Ridge cleared his throat. “I am sure he will make a fine butler.”
