Nicholas’s response came garbled. Chase entered the dressing room to find him being shaved by his valet.
“I wonder what Beaufort has promised Walter if this marriage occurs.”
Nicholas pushed away the valet’s razor and tilted his head up to look at Chase. “Knowing Walter, I would assume enough to set up a trust that brings him at least a thousand a year.”
“At least.”
Nicholas submitted to the valet again. “Any news on the inquiry?”
“I have continued advertisements inThe Times, and added some county papers, searching for the other mystery women. If any by those two names sees them, I should hear within the week.”
“Not everyone reads the papers.”
“Most people at least know someone who does. I am hopeful. In the meantime, I pursue other ways.”
Face wiped and clothes ready, Nicholas rose. “I will be going down to Melton Park tomorrow. Perhaps you should come with me.”
“I may do that.” Chase wandered over to the window. A little row of men stood beneath it, waiting to enter the side door. The butler must be inspecting possible servants today.
While he watched, another person arrived and walked right past all of them, then on along the house. Not a servant.
Chase aimed for the apartment’s entrance. “We will talk again soon. Come to my chambers this evening, and we’ll go to the club together.”
* * *
Minerva marched past all the hopeful men awaiting inspection, then continued to the kitchen door of Whiteford House. Since she would be leaving town for a day or so, she needed to take care of this now.
She let herself in. Mrs. Fowler stood with her back to the door, peeling onions.
At her footstep, Mrs. Fowler looked over her shoulder. “What you doing here? Not hoping for work again, I hope. You won’t do. Too many airs.”
“I’m not looking for work. I was nearby and thought I would call on you.”
“Call on me, is it? I’ve food to prepare. I have no time for callers.” She returned to her onions. “Call on me, indeed.”
Minerva went over and stood beside her just as the woman wiped her eyes with her apron. “I will cut those if you give me a knife and a board. Then both of us will cry but be done quickly.”
Mrs. Fowler shrugged. She set a board and knife in front of Minerva. “Strange one you are.”
“I know.” Minerva began slicing the onions. Mrs. Fowler inspected them, nodded, and went back to her peeling.
“You’ve no one here to help you.” The kitchen quaked with silence.
“Up above they are today, tending to the chambers. Tomorrow more start, so I’ll have them back, plus another. Mrs. Wiggins has been taking on new servants fast.”
“Has she found her own replacement?”
“I fear so. I don’t like the woman. Came down here poking around, asking too many questions, telling me my business. Next week she starts.”
“It has been difficult, I suppose, having so many of the staff leave. Of course, with those pensions, one would expect it.”
“Didn’t see me leave, did you? I have one too. A nice trust with a good income. What would I do with myself? No point in cooking a big stew for one person.”
“Do you still get to see some of them at times?”
Two more onions awaited slicing now. Minerva blinked against the film of tears and kept her knife moving so Mrs. Fowler would keep talking.
“Most are gone from town. I’ve a few letters, but that will stop soon as they are settled. It’s like family here, but it isn’t really family, now is it?” She paused and thought. “Only one surprises me. Never wrote, and we’d served here together a long time. Of course he was all but a gentleman himself, what with being valet to the last duke. I suppose he’s living on that spot on the water that he found and is happy to be done with all of this.”
