Page 8 of The Earl She Once Saved

The entrance hall remained grand enough to impress a visitor and worn enough to reveal the cost of doing so. The stone floor shone, though several tiles were cracked. The brass lamps had been polished to brightness, while the carpet upon the stairs had been repaired so carefully that the mending revealed itself only to someone who knew to look for it.

A stack of account ledgers stood square upon a side table. Beside the umbrella stand sat a wide bowl of water, placed low for Sergeant.

Nothing was careless. Nothing was lavish.

The servants moved quietly through the hall. They bowed to Rafe with faultless respect, yet their eyes traveled past him to the stairway up which Verity had disappeared, to the passage through which she might return.

They knew who governed Edgeworth, and it was not him. He could not say that he was indifferent to this lack of welcome, but still, he could understand the current state of affairs.

“Colonel Thornlow!”

Mrs. Prewitt descended upon him before his coat was removed. She was dressed in lavender silk, her hands extended, and her welcome was bright enough to conceal very little.

“What happiness! What relief! Edgeworth has longed for a Thornlow again.”

Rafe doubted houses possessed such particular desires. The county might have longed for one, provided it was not Roland.

Mrs. Prewitt thanked him for coming, welcomed him home and assured him repeatedly that everyone had expected him, but she did it too repeatedly.

Fear lived beneath each courtesy. She had no claim to Edgeworth except through Verity’s marriage, and that marriage had become a question no court could answer. If Rafe assumed control, her own security depended entirely upon his goodwill, as it was usually the case.

Her delight was not delight. It was an appeal.

“The principal chamber must be prepared,” she declared to a passing maid. “The Earl’s own room. At once.”

Rafe removed his gloves slowly. “That will not be necessary.”

“Nonsense. You are Roland’s heir.”

“I am his brother. Roland remains the Earl.”

The name brought a silence which she hurried to fill.

“Of course. Naturally. We must all hope, though after so long, one hardly knows what to hope, does one?”

She laughed faintly and turned to the woman approaching from the passage.

“Mrs. Hale, Colonel Thornlow has arrived.”

The housekeeper was young, dark-haired and entirely composed. “Colonel.”

She curtsied.

“Mrs. Hale.”

“Your room has been prepared in the east wing. Your valet may speak with James regarding your trunks. Dinner is at seven, though a tray can be sent sooner should you require it.”

Every courtesy was exact. Every necessity had been anticipated. There was no welcome in any of it.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything further?”

There were a dozen questions he might have asked. He suspected she would answer each one correctly and volunteer nothing.

“No.”

“Then I shall see to your luggage.”