“Now that you mention it, I recall a woman doing that. Did she not have dark hair and blue eyes, and was rather plump? It seems like she wore some sort of feathered headdress, now that I think on it.” Colin added.
“The very one. My, what close notice you took,” Bergen offered a wry smile. “She also employed an overly seductive walk when she left the table. Whitton acknowledged her by name.”
“That makes it easier to find him. I want him back under lock and key. The brick which broke my mother’s front window was no accident.” Colin said.
“You mentioned that vexation,” Baxter remarked. “We wish for him to account for his crime when they arrest him. I might suggest we send a couple of Runners to apprehend him.”
“I can take care of that, and I have just the place to keep him.” Morray smirked. “I will also send word to the Prince Regent on Whitton’s activities. He is not held in the highest esteem, judging from the way no one raised so much as an eyebrow when the previous Earl moved much of his wealth to his wife’s control. Whitton appealed the changes, but perhaps, because of a lengthy letter from his father, included with a copy of the Will, nothing changed.”
“I do not believe the Regent would even consider changing a Will, letter or no letter,” added Baxter. “Let his mother know about his activities and she may take care of the situation herself,” he suggested, wiping his hands on the napkins provided with the meal.
“I appreciate everyone’s efforts on my behalf.” Colin flicked at an imaginary piece of lint from the leg of his breeches and then stood up. “I have one more call to make today, and I need to make the most of the afternoon. I should not put it off any longer or I will be cursing myself by evening for procrastinating.”
“Say ’Good afternoon’ to the Countess.” Morray snorted at his own jest.
“You will find her a worthy opponent. Stay sharp,” Baxter warned as he, too, stood up.
When he and Bergen left the club, Colin had the overwhelming feeling that life as he knew it was about to change yet could not determine why he felt that way. It is a woman, for goodness’ sake.
Bergen and he rode quietly towards Mayfair. The Countess’ house was one of the largest and grandest in the area. Colin considered how Whitton must have felt when his father withdrew Whitton’s control from most of their family’s funds and gave power to his mother instead. That could test a man’s ability to keep his head. Colin did not, however, have too much time to reflect. His carriage halted only a moment before a pair of black iron gates opened and then closed behind them as they approached the four-storied stone house.
The door opened as soon as he and Bergen stepped from the carriage. “Good afternoon, Lord Shefford, Lord Bergen,” a tall, thin man, with thick grey hair and dark brown eyes, greeted them when they mounted the steps. He waved them towards a grand stairwell. “The Countess is expecting you. Please follow me.”
Clearly, the woman had him at a disadvantage, Colin mused. How did she know I would call upon her? A warm feeling shot up his neck. Stepping onto the landing, the retainer led him directly across the hall to closed double-doors. Before he had another moment to think about it, the man opened the door to a spacious drawing room. “The Lords Shefford and Bergen, your ladyship,” the retainer said.
Bergen and Colin crossed into a room tastefully decorated in pale gold, creamy whites, and burgundy. A large, burgundy Axminister carpet interwoven with subtle patterns of cream covered the floor, while a patterned cream damask wallpaper and a matching large sofa brought their attention to the center of the room. The room was separated by the settee into two sections. Behind the sofa, a large mahogany pianoforte graced the front of large windows covered with burgundy velvet drapes, held back on each side with gold-colored tasseled ropes. A bouquet of red roses filled the room with scent from a round, marbled table sitting to the right of the settee.
“Thank you, Masters. Please have some refreshments sent up.”
“Yes, my lady.” The retainer bowed and left.
“Good afternoon, my lady.” Simultaneously, Colin and Bergen effected a bow displaying an elegant leg.
The grey-haired, buxom Countess sat down on her cream and gold settee, smoothing the skirt of her deep blue satin dress, she encouraged both men to be seated. They each took a burgundy-covered mahogany armchair facing the couch.
“Gentlemen, I fear we should get straight to the point,” the Countess stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have just left my granddaughter, Nora, and my orphanage. She is most unhappy.”
Shefford shifted subtly in his seat, and glanced at his friend, who hastily tried to hide the surprise on his face. “You come straight to the point, my lady,” Shefford said, withdrawing a folded parchment from his waistcoat. “I will do so as well.” He rose and walked over to her, handing her the deed.
“Is this the deed you showed to my granddaughter?”
“It is, Countess.” Remaining detached, Colin watched her scrutinize the document. She then picked up a small leather pouch and withdrew an envelope. Picking up the envelope, she held it close to her as she spoke.
“Many years ago, my husband gave me a gift. He did so from sentimentality, but it meant a great deal to me. When Nora told me of your visit, for a moment I wondered if my son had somehow secured my gift for his own nefarious ends.” She passed him her small packet.
He opened the envelope, feeling a mixture of dread, anger, and frustration. Reading the parchment clarified that his deed was a forgery. However, the fact her son had forged a deed and used it to pay a debt still gave him a measure of influence, at
