It was not Kevin whom Minerva wanted to hear about. She slowed her steps a bit, to make sure Elise had enough time to explain the rest. When she did so, she heard a sound behind them. She looked over her shoulder. Nothing.
“As for the other Mr. Radnor, she said everyone knew the army threw him out. They let him sell out his commission, but the whole of it was highly suspicious and for her money he had probably been spared a public scandal only due to the duke’s interference on his behalf.”
“No doubt she had an opinion on why it happened too.”
“She began saying something about that, when Agnes interrupted with a very firm ‘We do not talk about that lest we give the scandal wings.’ I was surprised that Dolores indeed stopped talking and left soon after.”
Minerva wondered about the specifics that had remained unspoken. If it could cause a public scandal and if the family did not even refer to it, something serious had happened.
They reached the last lamp before Mrs. Drable’s home. The door showed in the dusky light beyond. Elise climbed the steps when they arrived. “Wait and I will have the footman escort you home.”
“No one is about and it is only another six buildings down the street.”
Elise looked up and down the lane before touching the latch. “Tomorrow morning, then.”
Once the door closed behind Elise, Minerva continued on her way. Again she thought she heard a sound behind her. A soft footfall. She did not look back this time. Instead she worked the tie of her knit reticule, and extracted the two long hatpins that she had woven into its side. Grasping them like the daggers they could be, she walked up the steps toward her door.
As she did so, a figure came out of the shadows. It stood ten feet away but did not advance. She looked at the silhouette, then turned to it. “You.”
“Yes, me.”
“You make too much noise. It is a wonder you can follow anyone in secret.”
“I did not care if you knew I was there. The other woman, however—”
“She had no suspicion.”
“Then I succeeded.”
She jabbed her pins back in the knitting of her bag. “Why are you following us?”
“I wanted to ensure no one interfered with you.”
“Do you worry about Phillip accosting women on the street? I hope he is not so stupid as that. I promise I will not kill him if he importunes me again, but I would make sure he regrets it.”
A low laugh. “I’m sure you would.” He moved a few steps closer. “I also was curious. What did you think of the family?”
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting all your relatives, so I have formed no opinions.”
“You have not met them all, but you have observed them all.”
He knew she had watched them in the drawing room, it seemed. That surprised her only because he had not stopped her from doing so. If he were the one who had closed the first panel, he had chosen not to close the second for some reason.
“Come in. We can hardly discuss this out in the street.” She set her key into the lock.
No sound behind her. She glanced over to see him still standing in the same spot.
“I should not—”
“Are you worried about my reputation?”
“Aren’t you?”
“When a woman decides not to marry, idle gossip about her carries far less of a threat to her. Now, it is almost midnight, the houses are all dark, and I assure you I won’t be the first woman on this street to have a late visitor for unexplained purposes. My feet hurt, so either come inside or I must bid you goodnight.”
After what looked like a shrug, he came up the stairs and followed her inside.
* * *
Far be it for him to worry about her good name more than she did. Chase followed her into the dimly lit reception hall. The normal implications of such a visit made him alert to the warmth of her presence in front of him, and to the subtle scent that wafted while she untied her bonnet. Lavender.
He knew she had met with the solicitor. He wondered how long she would remain in this modest home. Soon she could afford much better.
“Back finally, are you?” The older woman called Beth peered around a doorjamb, a white cap hanging in droopy waves around her face. She saw him and her eyebrows drew together beneath the festoons.
“I am. I told you not to wait up this late.”
“I was half asleep on the divan. I’ll go up now.” That frown aimed in his direction. “Unless you want me to stay.”
“There is no need. Mr. Radnor wants to compare ideas, not interrogate me.”
“If you say so.” Beth did not sound convinced.
“I will leave shortly, I promise.” He tried an innocent smile.
“Is Jeremy back yet?” Minerva asked.
Beth nodded. “Came at least an hour ago. Could be more. I was dozing, as I said.”
“I’ll speak with him tomorrow then. Good night, Beth.”
Beth carried her night candle to the stairs and began the climb.
“We can talk in here.” Minerva led the way into the library that Beth had just left. “There is sherry in that decanter if you want some.” She gestured to a table before falling onto the divan.
She did not wear an undressing gown like the last time, but her relaxed pose reminded him of the night she conked him on the head. He eyed the poker near the fireplace, much like the one she had almost used on Phillip. She probably did not need anyone following her home to make sure she was safe. It had been a nonsensical impulse on his part, a result of the anger at Phillip’s behavior that had never completely calmed all evening. Her vulnerability in going to and from that house had pressed on his mind as a result.
The expression on her face during that confrontation had not left his mind either. Terror. He had seen that look before, on the battlefield. The men who wore it almost never survived the day. It was not a reaction one would expect from a woman who hit intruders over the head with bed warmers.
“Thank you for alerting the housekeeper about your cousin,” she said. “Warnings were issued to all the women on the staff.”
“I did not single him out, but I reminded her that there were a lot of men in the house. Some of unknown backgrounds, others with too much entitlement. The housekeeper was shocked to learn I had seen a servant being importuned by someone. From her reaction one would think she never before had experiences with that. Perhaps while the last duke reigned, she didn’t.”
“I am friends with a woman who places servants in households, and it is a common story according to her. The servants do not complain because they do not think they will be believed.” She resettled herself against the side of the divan so she could bend her knees and lift her feet onto its cushion. “Forgive me, but I have been standing or walking all day.”
Her shoes poked out from the hem of her dress. He wondered if her feet were as lovely as her hands. Probably. Delicate and pretty and soft—he imagined a foot like that sliding up the skin of his leg.
He killed the fantasy when the smooth caress reached his knee. The low light, the late hour, was sending his mind where it should not go. The intimacy of this library right now sang like a siren’s song to his masculinity. She appeared lovely on that divan. Almost domestic in her ease and informality.
“If you want to go above and change into a garment more comfortable, I don’t mind waiting.”