Adan appeared. “Your grace. Lord and Lady Shadbolt’s carriage has just drawn up in the rear mews.”
Why does it feel like there are enemies at the gate of my castle?
His steward didn’t usually announce arrivals, not that there were many of them, but Monsale had been clear in his instructions. Adan was to ensure that the guests spent their time this evening in the foyer, the dining room, and nowhere else. But just in case, All RR Coaching Company business papers had been secured under lock and key. His secrets were kept hidden and safe.
Monsale himself, had wandered into the odd study or two while attending a party at a private residence, serendipitously coming across valuable information contained in papers which had been left lying about the place by a careless host. Visitors to Monsale House would not be afforded the same opportunity.
“Thank you, Adan.”
From out of his jacket pocket, Adan produced a folded up and sealed note. He handed it to Monsale. “This arrived a short time ago. The footman said he had strict instructions to make sure it was delivered promptly to you, along with the request that it be read immediately.”
Monsale took the missive and turned it over. He frowned at the crest on the wax seal. It was the Duke of Redditch’s household mark. Breaking the seal, he opened the letter.
* * *
Notes on Lady Miriam Shadbolt.
Not much to say about her in particular, but the Shadbolt family are obsessed with money. They will do anything to save a farthing. Make sure any trinkets of value are well out of sight, otherwise you may never see them again.
* * *
The note was unsigned, but he could hazard a good guess as to who had sent it. Naomi was continuing in her role of list assistant. He screwed it up and handed it back to Adan. “Go and check the dining room. Move those delicate porcelain miniatures that are on the sideboard and look for anything else that could be easily slipped into a jacket pocket.”
Adan raised an eyebrow. “Light fingered guests?”
Monsale gave a hum of displeasure. “Apparently so.”
He headed downstairs and stood in the foyer ready to greet potential bride number two and her parents.
Monsale was relieved to discover that unlike Mister Harforde, Lord and Lady Shadbolt at least knew their manners. The viscount bowed low to Monsale, then introduced his wife and daughter. Lady Miriam dipped into a comfortable curtsy.
“Your grace, it is a pleasure to meet you. And thank you so much for inviting us to dine with you this evening,” she said.
Not bad. She can string two words of conversation together without too much effort. I expect she could manage to play hostess at a dinner party and not make a mess of things.
A quick study of the girl revealed an ordinary looking young woman. She wasn’t beautiful, but neither was she plain. Her long chestnut hair was set in a simple, but elegant chignon. Her matching eyes held a glint of intelligence. Lady Miriam might not stir his blood, but he could appreciate why Kitty had thought to include her on the list.
Monsale escorted Lady Shadbolt into the dining room, while Miriam and her father followed. It was then that the whispers began.
“Look at that rug, Miriam, I bet that cost a pretty penny.”
“You did say he was seriously rich,” replied Miriam.
Doing his utmost to ignore the less than subtle conversation that continued on between father and daughter, Monsale was stunned when Lady Shadbolt turned from admiring a nearby painting and boldly inquired. “Is that a Reynolds? What sort of money do you think it would fetch on the open market?”
“I…I have no idea,” he stammered.
At the dining table the footmen pulled out the chairs for the ladies. Lady Shadbolt’s gaze ran along the length of the highly polished surface. She turned to her husband and Monsale caught a breathy “Chippendale, worth a small fortune.”
His heart sank. Naomi had been right; the Shadbolt’s were obsessed with money.
After taking their seats, the first course of the evening was placed in front of them. The fresh salmon was beautifully presented. The kitchen had spared no expense or effort. He couldn’t find it in his heart to begrudge the Monsale House chef for the extravagance. The poor man spent most of his days creating gastronomic delights which the staff only ever ate. A generous salary and the luster of working for a duke likely the only thing which kept him in Monsale’s service for the past five years. Tonight, would have been a welcome change for the chef.
When Lady Shadbolt picked up her knife and examined the hallmarks on the side, Monsale didn’t know where to look. Lady Miriam wasn’t any better. She lifted her McNeal family crested dinner plate and looked at the underside of it. “Spode. More money wasted.”
For the first time in his life, Monsale found himself embarrassed by someone else’s behavior. His gaze flittered over the table, to a fine pair of silver salt and pepper shakers.
I had better keep an eye on those just in case Lord Shadbolt takes a fancy to them.
