Once Again a Bride by Jane Ashford

Author:Jane Ashford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Regency, Fiction, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781402276729
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2013-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Finding Holcombe was simple. Harold Wycliffe had kept a record of where each former servant had gone, partly supplied by the Bow Street Runner. Paying a visit to another man’s valet, as Holcombe now was, was somewhat awkward, but Alec managed it the following afternoon, meeting the man in his new master’s front hall. He didn’t bother with preliminaries. “I have come for the key to my uncle’s bedchamber.”

“Why would I have…?”

“You have it.” Alec was certain he’d kept it. It was the sort of small, sneaking thing the man would do. “You may recall what I told you about taking anything that did not belong to you when you left his house. I can summon a magistrate in a matter of…”

“I forgot about the keys,” Holcombe whined. A blusterer and a bully, he collapsed in the face of opposition, as Alec had expected. “I was distraught over Mr. Wylde’s death.”

“Give it to me.” He held out a hand.

“It’s put away, like…”

“Then go and get it.”

Holcombe twitched and grimaced and finally disappeared up the stairs. Alec had begun to wonder what he would do if the man simply did not come back when he returned and held out a small ring of keys. He dropped it into Alec’s hand. “What else did you steal?”

“Steal?” the valet squeaked. “I didn’t steal…”

“Keeping these keys was a theft. What else?”

“Nothing! I swear it on my mother’s life!”

The oath of an inveterate liar, Alec thought. “If I find that you’ve taken anything else, no matter how tiny, you will find yourself on a transport to Australia before you can…”

“Four neckcloths,” Holcombe blurted. “I didn’t see the harm. She didn’t need them, and they was… were brand new.” With the indignation of a liar lied to, he added, “Mr. Henry promised me he’d left me something in his will.”

The venom in his voice on the word “she” extinguished any sympathy Alec might have felt.

Holcombe took a step toward the stairs. “I’ll get them.” He froze. “One’s at the laundry.”

Alec waved this aside. “Keep them.” He wondered if there was anything else that Jem Hanks had not squeezed from this man.

“You’re not going to let her go through Mr. Henry’s things? He’ll turn in his grave, he will, to think of that chit pawing over his…”

Alec grabbed Holcombe’s shirtfront and twisted it in his fist, jerking the valet onto tiptoe. “Should you ever speak of Mrs. Wylde again—and I see no reason for you to do so—you will speak respectfully. Do you understand me?” He shook the man a little.

Red-faced and choking, Holcombe nodded. Alec held him a moment longer to reinforce his point, then thrust him away. Watching him cough and scrabble at the ruins of his neckcloth, Alec marveled again at the outrages his uncle had allowed, even apparently encouraged. He’d gone far, far beyond the line. Alec felt that old brush of fear. Did mental instability run in his father’s family, thanks to his grandmother?

Outside, Alec started to direct his carriage to Charlotte’s, bearing the key in triumph, as it were.

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