Page 30 of Loving a Dowager
He opened the door to exit but at the last moment glanced over his shoulder to watch Henrietta disappear down the hallway. He bounded down the steps, attempting to recall what event he was to attend later that eve. He rubbed his temple. He had no recollection of accepting any invitations for that evening. The woman was clearly up to something.
Chapter Seventeen
Blurry eyed after spending hours reviewing files and catching up on the administration of Neale & Sons, Walter marched up the steps of Lord Archbroke’s townhouse for the second time that day. Why the Home Office Secretary had summoned him was beyond his tired mind and empty stomach. When he’d left earlier, Walter had been under the belief all was well. He reached up for the knocker, but before he even had his arm raised shoulder level, the front door swung open.
A disheveled looking butler appeared in the entrance. “Lord Weathersbee. Please follow me.”
Lord Archbroke’s growls echoed through the house. “What the bloody hell…”
Halting before a door, the butler inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders. “Ready, my lord?”
What a peculiar question. Stiffening his spine, Walter nodded.
The door swung open to reveal the lavish blue drawing room full of members from both the Archbroke and Hadfield families.
The butler cleared his throat and announced, “Lord Weathersbee.”
Walter faced the inquiring eyes and took a step forward. He turned back around as the whoosh of air hit the back of his neck. The door closed, eliminating a quick escape.
Henrietta approached like an angel sent to save him. “Walter, please come join us.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Why have I been summoned?”
“Theo requested your presence.” Henrietta led him to the settee where her niece sat calmly with one hand gently resting over her protruding stomach and her other arm wrapped about a small girl snuggled to her side.
Surrounded by the Hadfields, who were severely outnumbered by members of the Archbroke family, Walter bowed. “At your service, Lady Archbroke.”
Giving the little girl one last squeeze before removing her arm, Theo said, “Why don’t you go join your mama.”
“Yes, Aunt Theo.” Obediently the girl slid to her feet and scurried over to join her family.
Theo shifted and patted the velvet cushioned seat. “Please, come sit.”
Well aware that every set of eyes were upon him, Walter sat, careful not to crowd the woman. A large, dark shadow fell over Theo. Both her husband and cousin now stood behind her. He had a newfound respect for those debutantes who had paraded before the queen and now fully understood why Henrietta had been willing to do anything to avoid her coming out.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he waited for Theo, whose eyes were closed tight. He leaned in closer so only she could hear. “Are you all right, Theo?”
Nodding, she moved her hands and placed them behind her, kneading her lower back. “Lord Weathersbee, it has come to my attention that my dear departed uncle entrusted you with information that, for generations, has been privy to only those who were either born or married into the entrusted families that have sworn secret oaths to Protect the Royal Family.” She glanced up at her cousin, Landon, who according to Walter’s sources was the Head PORF, before continuing, “We wish for you to explain the extent of your knowledge.”
“I have a few questions of my own that I’d like answered before I fulfill your request.”
Theo laughed. “Ah… yes, you are a keen negotiator after all. But unfortunately, in this instance your inquiries will have to wait. Please—share with us what you know of our organization.”
Surrounded, he didn’t have much choice. “George imparted to me the names of the trinity of families deemed PORFs, their responsibilities, and described the symbol each of you bear. He also described the symbol identifying those who have sworn a fealty to serve PORFs, your Network.”
“Bloody Neale family,” Archbroke cursed.
Landon gave Theo’s husband a cutting look, prompting a quick apology from the man.
Ignoring the men behind her, Theo captured Walter’s attention by leaning forward and grasping his hand that was tightly clenched over his knee. “Lord Weathersbee, I must ask, have you shared any of this information with another?”
“No! George made it quite clear that should I tell anyone, it would place them in imminent danger.”
“Not even your nephew, Lord Darlington?”
Walter flinched at the implication he’d place his nephew in harm’s way. “Most certainly not.”
“And you have kept this secret for decades?”
