Page 37 of Miss Beresford and the Beast

“You’re still new around these parts, Reeves,” she said. “You’d do well to listen to those of us who were here when this person last committed crimes against a young lady.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Magnus didn’t look at her. “The Champions,” he said to Reeves.

“Yes, my lord.” The constable tucked his pencil and notebook back into his pocket. “They reside at Sowerby Hall. I shall go myself and bring Mrs. Champion back directly.”

“Miss Champion,” Charlotte said. “Her mother is away at present.”

The constable rose from his chair. “I will see to it,” he said. “Until such time…” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “I suggest that Mrs. Kitteridge remain as chaperone for Miss Beresford.”

“The devil she will,” Magnus growled.

“I don’t require a chaperone!” Charlotte exclaimed at the same time.

“But the damage to your reputation,” Mrs. Kitteridge sputtered. “The stain on your family’s good name⁠—”

“The damage is already done,” Magnus said. “A few more hours will make no difference.” He straightened from the mantle before the woman could launch into another argument. “My man will show you out.”

Turner at once materialized in the doorway. He’d been eavesdropping outside, just as Magnus had suspected. “This way sir, ma’am,” he said.

Mrs. Kitteridge went stiff as a poker. “Well, I never⁠—”

Constable Reeves set a staying hand on her arm. His face bore an expression of grim resignation. “It’s for the best, ma’am. As Lord Eversleigh says, another hour will make no difference.”

“Even a second would be too long in this villain’s company,” Mrs. Kitteridge snapped back. “Her parents won’t thank you⁠—”

“I hold myself responsible,” Reeves replied. He bowed to Magnus. “You may expect me back straightaway, my lord.”

Magnus inclined his head to the man.

Turner waited for the constable and Mrs. Kitteridge to take their leave before following them from the room. The guests’ murmured conversation continued as they departed, drifting to Magnus’s ear in damning scraps.

“—can’t undo it now,” the constable said.

“—she’s still alive, isn’t she?” Mrs. Kitteridge returned. “Unlike Miss Farr.”

“—a long time ago, ma’am. You can’t compare⁠—”

“—a leopard doesn’t change his spots⁠—”

Their footsteps creaked loudly as they descended the stairs, gradually fading into the distance, along with their words.

Charlotte stared after them for a moment before resting her head in her hands. “An explanation is no doubt in order.”

Magnus wondered how much she’d overheard. “From you or from me?”

She lifted her gaze as he came to join her on the sofa. “Who was that woman?”

Magnus sank down beside her. The rusty sofa springs groaned under his weight. “Mrs. Kitteridge. The self-proclaimed leader of village society. Or rather, she was in my time, after another family abdicated the role.”

Magnus well remembered that family. The Farrs had been residents of the district nearly as long as Magnus’s own family. That had, at the time, been the very crux of the problem. Squire Farr’s imagined equality with the Sterling clan.

And his daughter’s aspirations to one day be Countess of Eversleigh.

Even now, Magnus couldn’t think of the affair without bitterness. It had taken over a decade to reach even this questionable degree of equanimity. In the immediate aftermath, all he’d felt was an ungovernable rage at the injustice of it all.

You’re not blameless, my boy, his father had said before Magnus was cast out. You must have had a part in it. Said something to the girl. Done something to encourage her.