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Chapter Twenty-One
Letty looked pale and disheveled, her cap askew, hair trickling in tendrils all around her face as if she’d been pulling it, the whites of her eyes showing. Bertram frowned, wondering what could have happened to cause this in the few hours since he’d seen her.
He looked down at George with a manufactured smile. “Why don’t you go and find Mrs. Haversham and let her wash you up?”
His son made a face but nodded obligingly and let go of his hand. He waved to Letty as he passed her on the stairs before running up to his nursery. Bertram watched him go until he disappeared around the corner. He turned to Letty, grabbing hold of her elbow.
“Are you all right? Do you need a palliative of some kind? Perhaps a glass of port?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine,” then she paused, blinking a few times. “Or perhaps I could use a glass, just to settle my nerves.”
Bertram nodded. “Come with me.”
He led her down to his study and sat her down before crossing to the drinks tray and pouring her a glass of port. He handed it to her and watched as she gulped it down. “What has happened?”
She opened her mouth and froze, looking up at him. “I-I hardly know where to start. How much do you know about Lady Perrin?”
Bertram couldn’t help but grimace. “Not much. Why?”
“I…went to make some inquiries at Lady Perrin’s property.”
Bertram frowned. “You…?”
“I jumped the stile and went to see what I could find out from next door. I went to the greenhouse where I overheard that conversation…”
He watched her struggle for words. “And?”
“Well, I met someone there. He was…simple.” She met his eyes as if to gauge if he knew what she meant, or who.
He cocked an eyebrow before nodding. “What happened next?”
“He told me who he was. He called himself Raphael, Earl of Perrin.”
Bertram gasped. “I beg your pardon?”
She watched him, not saying a word, as if trying to determine how honest his surprise was. “You truly did not know?”
“Know what?”
“That there was an Earl of Perrin whose mental faculties were…compromised?”
Bertram turned away, not wanting to lie to her face.
He felt her hand brush his arm lightly before disappearing. “Bertram?”
He flinched, his given name from her lips almost too personal to be borne. “Years ago, I heard a rumor of a future earl declared incompetent. Not being one for idle gossip, I dismissed it. The Perrins moved here recently from up north. Their history is not well-known.”
He heard the shuffle of her step before her right hand landed on his shoulder and she turned him around. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes dark with some emotion he could not identify.
“Who is Raphael, then? Is he her brother or her husband?”
Bertram sighed, “These stories preceded Lady Perrin’s arrival.”
He glanced at her, saw that she was absorbing this new piece of information, trying to make it fit with what else she knew, a frown marring her beautiful forehead.
“In any case, what has this to do with my assassin?”
“Well, the Earl or whatever he is, seemed to think that Lady Perrin was familiar with the men I heard plotting.”
