An Artful Compromise (The Art of Love Book 2) by Holly Newman

Author:Holly Newman [Newman, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2022-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

THE EARL ARRIVES

“And you should be laughed at,” said a familiar voice from the parlor doorway.

Helena spun around. “My Lord!” she said, her voice soft, catching in her throat.

Dessie yipped and ran over to Adam. He obligingly reached down to scratch her ears.

“Who are you?” demanded the magistrate.

“And who are you to ask, other than some obviously officious individual puffed up in his own conceit?” the earl asked, looking him up and down as he sauntered into the room.

“How dare you! Do you know who I am?” demanded the magistrate.

“No; however, if I were to wager a guess, I would say you are a person making a mummery of the magistrate position,” the earl drawled.

“This,” Helena said, coming between them, “is the—”

“Adam Waterbury,” the earl said quickly.

Helena’s heart beat faster. “What are you doing here?” she asked softly, turning to him.

“What?” exclaimed the magistrate.

They ignored him.

Adam took both her hands in his. “I have been on horseback for four days. I had hoped to catch you on the road.”

“You almost did,” Helena said. A tingling sensation coursed through her body. The earl was here, in Staffordshire. In their home!

“We only arrived back this afternoon,” she said a little breathlessly.

“You must be exhausted, my—” Mrs. Littledean began.

The earl shook his head at her.

“—friend,” she finished looking at him quizzically.

He smiled at her.

“Please sit down,” Mrs. Littledean said, smiling back at him.

Mrs. Littledean looked over at their bemused butler, who still stood in the doorway. “Sutton, bring food and ale for our friend from Devon please, and have the best guest chamber readied,” she said.

“Yes, madam,” he said, bowing

“Yes, madam,” he said, bowing out of the room.

Adam sat and stretched out his long legs in front of him. “My mother insisted I come to offer help. I thought her fears were missish nonsense. I see, dear lady, she was wiser than I.” He looked at the magistrate. “Why would the Littledeans wish to murder their general manager?”

“They left without servants.”

Adam snorted and leaned his head back against the chair. Dessie jumped in his lap. He stroked the dog’s head. “That doesn’t address why.” He closed his eyes. “I have more servants than I have work for them.” He raised his head and looked at the magistrate. “My mother requested they not bring additional staff. And if a lack of staff is your strongest argument, then I believe you have no notion who killed Mr. Bickley.” He closed his eyes again. “You are brandishing your sword in the dark.”

“If it weren’t for Mr. Bickley, my husband might have been forced to sell Littledean Fine Porcelain after his apoplexy,” Mrs. Littledean said.

“Does someone want to put you in the position of having to sell the company? Have you had offers?” the Earl asked tiredly.

The magistrate looked at him in surprise.

“Best write that question down,” Mr. Drummond told the magistrate in a whispered aside.

“Many,” Mrs. Littledean said, “but they have all been ridiculously low.”

“Our competitors have been circling like buzzards,” Helena said.

“Josiah would sell, if the price were right.

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