The Reckless Reporter: A 1920s Cozy Mystery by Kelly Mason

Author:Kelly Mason [Mason, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Orchard Press
Published: 2025-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Ireached the drawing room to find Breckon stationed outside.

“My lady, the gentleman is waiting inside.”

I took in a deep breath.

Breckon opened the door for me and I walked inside.

Montague spun around. “Where’s your mistress?” he asked. “I want to see Lady Ellen. Not the housekeeper.”

“Housekeeper?” Breckon said, his face becoming red. “This is Lady Ellen, daughter of the late Earl of Ashcombe.”

I stepped forward. “And custodian of Ashcombe Hall.” This time I did not offer him my hand.

“You?” he said then burst into laughter, clutching his side. “Sorry, old girl. I thought you were the housekeeper.” He looked me up and down. “Thought you were a bit too much of a filly for the job. Certainly not the regular type you see working as a servant.” Montague pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his eyes, then laughed again.

Breckon approached my side and spoke in a low voice. “Do you wish me to remain?”

“Yes, please,” I whispered. “I’ve absolutely no idea how he rose in rank politically.”

“I heard that,” Montague said. “But I understand, I’ve not made the best first impression. Let’s start again.” He held out his hand for mine.

I did not take it but gestured him to the interview table. “If you would take a seat.”

“Ah, I’ve heard you fancy yourself as a sleuth.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The pretty little Sherlock Homes.”

“Please be respectful to your host!” Breckon said in a steady voice.

“You’re dismissed,” Montague said to him.

“I’d like Mr Breckon to stay,” I said.

“As you wish,” he said with a long sigh. “Although, I’m happy to play along with your interrogation.” He grinned, then sat down.

I took a seat opposite him and Breckon took his place close to the door, like a sentry guard.

“Where’s Mags?” Montague asked.

I paused for a moment and frowned.

“Haven’t seen my cousin for a few weeks.”

I realised he was referring to Lady Bandberry. “The Marchioness returned to London.”

“Did Mags tell you we grew up together, akin to brother and sister?”

“No,” I said. “She didn’t.”

“We spent every summer and Christmas together. Papa said she was a good influence on me but in truth, she was always getting me into the soup.” He sat back and chuckled. “There was this time with a goat!” Then he proceeded to laugh so hard he was unable to speak.

There came a knock at the door. Breckon answered and then Mrs Flint entered with the hostess trolley, with a look of concern as her eyes rested on Montague who was still attempting and failing to contain his laughter.

“Tea, my lady, Sir,” she said, frowning at Montague.

He looked up. “Ah, the real housekeeper,” he said with a snort. “Now she fits the bill perfectly.” He returned to his laughter.

I took in a deep breath. This man was not only rude, he was a complete buffoon. “Thank you, Mrs Flint and Mr Breckon. You can both leave, I’ll serve.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Breckon asked.

“Yes,” I said with a reassuring smile, although I had no intention of serving Montague, he could jolly well serve himself.

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