Page 48 of A Hint of Scandal

Chapter Twenty-Three

Max encountered Elsie, the sometime parlor maid who had been elevated to a new position as Serafina’s maid, walking away from the Blue Bedroom carrying a jug of used water. He slowed his pace and waited for her to descend the stairs and vanish from view. Then he knocked on the door of the bedroom.

“Come in,” came Serafina’s voice. She probably assumed Elsie had forgotten something.

Oh well, they were to be married in just over a week, so what did it matter if he entered her bedroom and put her in a compromising position? Not that he intended any compromising behavior. She’d made it all too clear she wouldn’t welcome that, even after they were married. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

She was sitting up in bed with a shawl about her shoulders, reading a book by the light of one of Julian’s new Carcel lamps, which he’d introduced a few years ago due to his love of reading when he couldn’t sleep at nights. Her dark hair had been confined by Elsie in a long braid that right now rested on her left shoulder and breast. Something rather beguiling clung to her in this tranquil situation.

She looked up as Max closed the door behind himself and just for the briefest of moments, alarm flashed across her face. One hand went to the high neck of her nightgown.

Max remained by the door. “You are quite safe. I’ve not come to see you with anything in mind other than obtaining your advice. I have no one else I can turn to on a matter my brother has thrust before me. And you are the most level-headed person I know.”

Her expression softened. “If that is so, improper as your arrival is, you had better fetch that chair over and set it beside the bed. I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations.” She laid her book down on the bed covers and linked her fingers together.

Max did as he was told, setting the chair a good six feet back from the bed, in case she should feel intimidated. He was a big man, after all, and she was just a slip of a girl already in her night attire. That she was brave enough not to send him off with a scolding and his tail between his legs impressed him. This couldn’t wait until the morning, not with the 14th and the promised arrival of this interloping woman so close.

Where to begin, though? Perhaps with the letter. He took it out of his pocket and passed it over to her, having to rise in order to do so. Then he retook his seat and crossed his legs. “My brother showed me this letter this evening and has asked me to help him with the problem it entails. It arrived earlier today and he confessed to me that he didn’t know how to deal with it until I arrived home. Lucky for him that I did.”

By the bright light of the Carcel lamp, she read it through, then, like him not so long ago, she read it a second time. She looked up, those lovely gray eyes wide with shock. “Oh my goodness.”

He nodded. “You see my predicament. Julian’s predicament. He could not have dealt with this himself, and I’m heartily glad he hasn’t been forced to ask Rumbold, his valet, to do so. He is a good valet, but describing him as heavy-handed is a gross underestimation.”

She nodded in return. “I have yet to encounter the estimable Rumbold. I take it the letter is true?”

Max shrugged. “As far as we know. Julian has admitted to marrying the girl. They were together only six months when he was twenty-one, before parting unamicably and she vanished from his life. He admitted to me that he lied to her in order to abandon her. He says he assumed she’d disappeared, or even died.”

“Until now.”

“So he tells me.” He paused. “I have no reason not to believe him on that, dishonest as he has been with poor Maria, and dishonest also with this poor young woman. He married Maria when he was twenty-eight, having heard nothing from this Abigail in the previous seven years. I suppose one could say it was reasonable of him to have assumed she had died, or emigrated to the Americas or some such place and that he would never see her again.”

“Nevertheless, emigration would not have rendered the marriage invalid. He would still have been committing bigamy.”

Max nodded. “He would, but it would never have come out.”

She pressed her lips together. “And you have come to me for advice?” Her brows rose.

Max bit his lip. “I have.” Feeling more than a little despondent, he shook his head. “I have so little time. She says she’s coming here on the 14th. That’s only in three days’ time. I have no one else to go to but you. I can’t tell my mother. She has enough to worry about with Julian’s declining health. Maria is busy in London with Arabella—who, if she succeeds in making a worthy match, will no doubt be spurned the moment this comes out. I have to act quickly and discover if this woman is who she says she is. And deal with it.” He paused. “I would very much value your help in this matter.”

A small smile lit her face, combining with the glow of the lamplight to render her almost pretty. “I am very flattered that you have turned to me. And if, as you say, time is of the utmost importance, we must make a plan of action.” Her eyes glittered for a moment with something else he didn’t recognize, but he’d have to think about that later.

For now, relief that he wasn’t alone in this fix flooded over Max. He might have been a commissioned officer in his regiment, but he was not used to having to work out a puzzle of this sort. And doing so with the help of someone else, even if it was a woman, was a boon. He had to admire her staunch commonsense. Any other woman would have had a fit of the vapors at such a scandal about to materialize in the family she was marrying into and perhaps run a mile. Not Serafina.

He managed a wary smile. “What do you suggest we do first?”

Serafina leaned forward, her eyes now alight with something that might have been possible to construe as excitement. Was she enjoying this? “First of all, we need to find, if we can, where the letter was delivered from and where this woman is at present.”

Max reached for the letter and turned it over in his hands to reveal the reverse. “Sent from London according to the markings. So I’d assume she must live there.”

Serafina nodded. “So she has a good distance to travel to be here in three days’ time. If this letter came by mailcoach then it could have been sent barely a day since.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “And what of her son? How old would this boy be now if she had him perhaps a year after her marriage to your brother?”

Max frowned as he did the maths in his head. “Fully grown by now. At least twenty-five, I’d say.”

“What we need to do is look for information about his birth, and find out if there are papers recording any marriage between your brother and this woman. She can only claim this marriage if there is a record of it.”

“He says he did marry her. He doesn’t deny that.”

“Nevertheless, we need to check all the facts are correct. Starting with discovering which church they were married in. Did he tell you that?”