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She turned with a start back to Mrs. Haversham who was watching her quizzically. “Oh, forgive me. What I wanted to ask you is, do you know any servants who work for Lady Perrin?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
Letty sighed, looking around before she leaned closer to whisper to the nanny. “I want to ask if any of them know the…man who—” she flicked a glance at George and then widened her eyes significantly at Mrs. Haversham.
The nanny continued to look mystified. “Man who…what?”
Letty realized that Mrs. Haversham might not know about the prisoner in the dungeons. “There was an, um, incident. And I am just following it up for the Duke. You know since I’m…” she left it open-ended as to what she was because the servants had been saying an awful lot of things about her and she wasn’t sure which ones Mrs. Haversham believed.
“Oh! You mean…” Mrs. Haversham’s eyes were very wide.
“Yes.” She whispered, giving the nanny a significant glance.
“Well…” Mrs. Haversham bit her lip as she thought hard, looking doubtful. “The Perrin servants hardly socialize with us as they are not allowed out much except to go to the markets very early in the mornings. The countess runs her household very much like a feudal lordship.”
“Is that so? Then why is it easy for people to get in and out of her estate?”
“Well…you know the guards might not be that dedicated to her. I hear tell she treats them quite cruelly.”
Letty was not at all surprised by this.
“Oh! But Jenson holds atendressefor one of the milkmaids. You could ask him.”
Letty smiled. “Milkmaids? Which one?”
She never would have pegged Jenson as the type to run after milkmaids.
Perhaps he’s the spy.
“Oh, I don’t know. She is a tiny one, rosy, quite buxom.”
“Of course she is.” She and Mrs. Haversham exchanged knowing glances.
“Perhaps you can ask him.”
“Oh, I intend to. Never fear. But for now, I think I shall take a walk over there and see what there is to see.”
Mrs. Haversham nodded. “Well, be careful.”
Letty smiled, touched at the words. “Thank you, Mrs. Haversham. I will.”
* * *
After writing his letter, Bertram decided that if he was to return to the garrison as soon as tomorrow, he needed to spend some time with his son.
He frowned, realizing how much he’d avoided doing that in recent years. Even when he was home, he tended to busy himself with other things. Picking up the bell he shook it to summon a footman.
Not a minute later, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter.”
Jenson stuck his head in the door. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Where is the Marquess at the moment?”
“Oh, Mrs. Haversham is dressing him for a walk.”
“Is that so? So he is up in the nursery?”
