An Heir is Misplaced (A Duchess of Stortford Mystery): A cozy Victorian whodunnit with a hint of humour by Helen Golden

Author:Helen Golden [Golden, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Drew Bradley Press
Published: 2025-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

9

LATER THAT AFTERNOON…

Alice sat alone in the conservatory at the rear of Darby House, her eyes idly tracing the sensational sketches on the front of Saturday’s The Illustrated Police News. Away from the capital’s distant bustle at the front of the house and surrounded by plants, the room, with its large windows, looked out on a serene walled garden. Within it, the gentle babbling of a fountain that fed the pool in the centre offered a relaxing backdrop.

Or at least it should have done.

Alice’s mind was in turmoil. Where’s Charlie Rydal? Who’s taken him? Her stomach dropped. Is he alive, even?

There was a sharp knock on the door. “Come!” she called out.

Pratt entered. “Your Grace, George has requested an audience for him and Mr Beaumont.”

George? On his day off? Her pulse quickened. She put down the paper. “Show them into the library, please, Pratt. I’ll join them shortly.” She rose, smoothing the fabric of her dress with palms that felt slightly clammy.

A few minutes later, the door to the library swung open with a brisk creak as Alice entered the room.

George, his posture ever-commanding, was standing by the window, while Ben Beaumont was scanning the bookshelves. He turned abruptly, and his eyes settled on Alice. “Your Grace,” Ben said, tucking his bowler hat under his arm as he gave a quick bow. “We have news.” He turned to George, who was now hovering beside him, and gave the off-duty footman a sharp nod.

Alice studied their faces. They didn’t have the look of men about to announce bad news. This bodes well...

George stepped forward. “Your Grace.” He bowed, then straightened. “The Earl of Foxworth’s butler didn’t appear last night at the club, but this morning when I returned, I was fortunate to find him there having breakfast. He told me the earl left for his country estate, Foxworth Hall in Richmond, on Saturday with a guest in tow.”

Charlie Rydal! “That must be where Charlie is,” Alice said, her eyes dancing.

“Indeed,” Ben continued, his voice steady. “I contacted the household just a short while ago and can confirm he’s quite the honoured guest there.”

He’s alive! A sigh of relief escaped Alice’s lips as she pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s wonderful news.” She beamed at the two men. “Well done, both of you.”

Then she paused. A guest? So her theory that Foxworth had him there to persuade him into buying into his gold mine scheme was likely true. Let’s just hope we’re quick enough to stop Charlie before he signs away his fortune! “We need to let his uncle know as soon as possible.”

She moved to a desk in the middle of the room, where a delicate inkwell and a fountain pen were waiting. Taking a seat in the upholstered writing chair, she pulled out a sheet of her monogrammed stationery from the drawer and quickly penned a note to Lester Fairfax. After blotting the ink, she folded the note and sealed it with wax, using her family’s crest. “Mr Beaumont,

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