“Of course, sir.” He looked past Emerson, and his eyes widened.
Emerson turned and saw that Amir had joined them under the portico. “Amir, this is Sedgewick. Sedgewick, my man, Amir.”
Though Sedgewick’s clouded eyes narrowed, he stepped back, allowing the three of them to enter the hall. “I shall have to send for a cook from the village,” he informed them.
“No need, Sedgewick. Amir is quite adept in the kitchens,” Emerson said.
Sedgewick frowned, and the deep lines across his brow furrowed with the weight of reluctance, or more likely, disapproval.
After a moment, Sedgewick relented. “Very good, sir,” he said at last. “I’ll see to the east chamber and the corner suite. The boiler takes time, I fear. His lordship preferred a cold room, so the fires are not laid.” Age hadn’t dimmed the butler’s haughty demeanor in the least.
Preferred?
“Surely you meant ‘prefers,’ Sedgewick?” Ben inquired mildly. Again, with the sharpness Emerson and others routinely overlooked.
“You must have been speaking of thelateearl,” Emerson amended, silently applauding his brother. And just when had he stopped thinking of Ben as his half brother? A tight band manacled his chest. Something had altered in him, quietly, without permission. He was…proud.
Ben’s eyes narrowed on the old man, his lips compressed, his gaze accusing.
Sedgewick ignored Ben, turning and pausing at the foot of the stairs. “Certainly, Mr. Whitmore. What else could I have meant?”
Emerson inclined his head. “As I said, we are here to find the younger Lord Hallandale.” He glanced about the hall, noting the thick dust, grimy windows, and sconces he doubted had been lit in a fortnight.
Sedgewick flashed a look at Ben, one of distinct disgust. While Ben had been a spoiled, sullen child, Sedgwick’s dislike seemed to go deeper. “And as I said, the new Lord Hallandale arrived from the Continent a month or so ago. He intimated business to attend in London.Financialmatters,” he muttered with a glare. Resentment rose off him in waves.
Ben opened his mouth—likely to correct that implication—but Emerson laid a hand on his arm and gently urged him to the old library. “The corner suite will do fine. Thank you, Sedgewick. It’s good to see the house still standing.”
“The house stands, Mr. Whitmore. It always has.” Sedgewick hesitated, then stepped in close. “You understand, sir, I was never officially dismissed. That is why I’ve stayed. Not for lack of better options.”
Emerson studied the butler, doubting that. The man should be pensioned off, but Emerson let the matter slide. “You’ve heard nothing, then? No letters? No solicitor’s inquiries?”
Sedgewick shook his head once. “Only visitors.” He turned toward the darkened hall. “One man. Several months before the heir arrived back in England. Didn’t give his name.”
Ben froze. “You didn’t ask?”
The butler ignored him.
Emerson wanted to take Ben and rattle him senseless. Didn’t he realize setting Sedgewick on the defensive would make theirtask more difficult? Emerson stepped in front of Ben. “What did the man look like?”
“Arrogant. Smelled of pomade and polished leather. He asked a great many questions and touched very little.”
Emerson’s jaw ticked. “Did he ask about inheritance or the line of succession?”
“Aye.” Sedgewick’s eyes didn’t waver. “And he didn’t seem pleased by the answers.”
Ben muttered something under his breath and disappeared around the landing. Sedgewick waited, then said low, “If you mean to find Lord Hallandale, Mr. Whitmore…you’ll need to begin where he ended.”
“And where was that?”
“The study. He’d taken to locking it.”
“Do you have the key?”
“No.” Sedgewick’s mouth turned grim. “He once left the window unlatched. The wisteria vine on the east wall might still bear weight. If you’re careful.”
Silence followed this statement, with Sedgewick seeming to be waiting for Emerson to absorb this.
“I see,” he said slowly, not seeing at all, except for the fact his window-climbing antics were not limited to London.
