“It is not an uncommon name either. If the name were Polyhymnia or Terpsichore, that would be a most peculiar coincidence. Now, I must be on my way, so I can—”
“Not yet. Please, indulge me lest I wonder all day.”
Chase settled back in his chair.
“Was that in fact Minerva Hepplewhite?”
Nicholas would ask bluntly and leave no room for dissembling. “Yes.”
“Ah.”
Chase began rising again. Nicholas again gestured for him to sit.
“Why was she here?”
“She has a pointed interest in Uncle’s death. Understandably, since it affected her so completely.”
“If it was not an accident, she might be seen as a likely object of inquiry herself, I assume.”
“That too. So she wanted to see for herself where it happened.”
“And you arranged that. How good of you. Here I thought you had brought that woman here, no matter what her name, so you might seduce her. I thought perhaps she had not departed this morning so much as run away from your intentions.”
“I do not importune women, if that is what you are saying.” I am not Phillip, damn it.
“No, you don’t. Her contentment, and yours, convinced me that no importuning was involved. I am relieved. I have some responsibility to women under my roof. I’m not sure I like that you are taking up with one of the women from the will, though.”
“I am not taking up with her. She left, didn’t she?”
“She did indeed.”
“Then we are done here.” Chase stood and gave his cousin a quelling frown.
“For someone who conducts inquiries, you do not like one when it is aimed at you,” Nicholas said.
“Is that what you call this? It sounded to me like a drawing room matron’s idle curiosity. Leave the inquiries to me, Cousin. You lack finesse.” He strode out, not at all contented anymore.
* * *
“Are you feeling well?” Elise asked. “You appear sad and have been silent since we left the estate.”
Minerva had been dwelling on the night before, fixing the memories securely in her mind. She was not sad, so much as wistful. She gathered her emotions so she might not show them so much. “Let us pass the time discussing what we learned at that house. You can tell me what you saw and heard.”
“I’d rather talk about the house itself. Such space and luxury. I don’t think I’ll ever see the likes of it again.”
She indulged Elise for an hour, then they retreated into their own thoughts.
She rarely spoke again, all the way back to London over the next three days. She accepted by the first evening that it might take a while to overcome her feelings about Chase, and what she had briefly known and now rejected.
As soon as the coach stopped in front of her home, she sought out her own chamber.
“Are you ill?”
The question pulled her out of a reverie in which her time at Melton Park repeated over and over. She looked behind her to see Beth closing the door. The image proved filmy. She had not even realized she’d been weeping.
“Elise said you have not been yourself.”
The emotions started rising in her body, almost taking her breath away. “I have been very foolish, Beth.”
“That man? Did you let him kiss you?”
To admit it had been more than kisses would only upset Beth. “Do not blame him.”
Beth sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “Not the best choice on your part, under the circumstances. Not the right man to try that with.”
“I know that.”
“Not a man to get sweet on, I told you.”
“You did at that.”
An arm came around her. “Well, there’s no sense to these things, is there?”
That embrace, so familiar and caring, broke her. Soft arms enclosed her while she wept onto Beth’s shoulder.
Chapter Fifteen
Chase remained at Melton Park two more days. One night he left after dinner, then pretended to be a person entering the house without anyone’s awareness. He left his horse down the lane in the trees, and approached on foot. Even with the servants up and about, he managed to get all the way to the parapet without being seen.
He had long conversations with the land steward and the grooms. Minerva had pursued the other servants for information. He would have to find out what she learned.
Which meant he would have to see her. She might not welcome that. He could all but hear her putting it into words. We should not have done this. Probably not, but he did not regret it for a minute, no matter what complications it brought.
She might, however. No matter what drew them together, the situation meant they should stay apart. He knew that, damn it. But what existed between them had nothing to do with reasoning.
He still simmered when he thought about her. Even upon his return to London she was not far from his mind.
His third morning back in town he left his chambers to go claim his horse in the stable in the nearby mews. As he approached the stable a tall, young, blond man blocked his path. He looked the fellow over.
“I know you,” he said, searching his mind. “You are one of the grooms at Whiteford House.”
“Was one, for a few days.”
“Have you taken employment here?”
He shook his head. “I’m to give you a message from my mum. She said to meet her in Portman Square today at three o’clock. She wants to talk to you.”
“Who is your mother?”
“She is Miss Hepplewhite’s housekeeper.”
He meant Beth. This was Beth’s son. “I will be there.”
The young man slipped down the mews and seemed to disappear. Chase went into the stable to get his horse. This fellow had been another one of Minerva’s sets of eyes in Whiteford House during the house party. He wondered how many there had been.
* * *
He found Beth strolling along the park’s perimeter. He recognized the big cap with its deep brim even before he saw how her stout form fit his memories. He swung off his horse and approached her.
She looked around. “I guess we can talk here. Not too many others about right now.”
They walked a few minutes in silence.
“I’m of two minds about this,” she finally said. “Minerva came home in a state I have not seen in years. She blames herself. I blame you.”
“I accept the blame.”
“Do you now? Won’t do much good, will it?” She walked on, her steps heavy plods on the path. “That husband of hers ruined her. She didn’t tell you that, did she?”
“She told me some of it.”
“He was a brute. He got cruel when he drank and he drank a lot. I only stayed in his service because of my boy. Not many houses will let you have a young boy with you.”
He reached out and touched Beth’s arm so she stopped walking. He looked down at her. “A brute, you said. He hit her?”
“Hit her? He beat her. He brought this innocent girl home as his wife and for two months or so it was normal, but then—” She lifted a corner of her apron and dried her eyes.
Innocent, and all but orphaned. No family to turn to. Finley went looking for a victim. That is why he chose her.
“She blamed herself. She tried to please him. She became quiet and fearful, shrinking away like a dog that’s been kicked. Nothing would stop him though. I would go to her and find her all bruised, weeping. Then one day she stopped crying, like that part of her had died. She told me she believed he liked to see her crying and pleading. That he enjoyed it, and she would not give him that satisfaction. He only got worse after that, but she didn’t seem to care.”