Page 7 of A Scandalous Bargain
Thomas was sure the woman must be concerned for her future employment since she was no longer needed as a lady’s maid. He’d do what he could to see that she found a new situation.
The funeral furnisher had just left, and Thomas was in grave need of his own brandy. He went to his library study and had just poured the drink when his butler, Baines, appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Chamberlain is here, my lord. She is in the sitting room.”
Thomas’s mother-in-law. The brandy was needed more than ever. He drank it down in one swallow. “How is she?” He set the empty glass on the sideboard.
“As you might expect,” Baines said delicately. Of average height and with a slight frame, the butler possessed kind, dark eyes, a sharp, long nose, and a balding pate. He was a force of calm and organization in the household, an excellent foil for Thea’s penchant for agitation.
Mrs. Chamberlain was a slightly less frenzied version of her daughter. Still, she was bound to be bordering on hysterical, and Thomas couldn’t blame her.
With a deep, fortifying breath, he went to the front sitting room and strode inside. Mrs. Chamberlain was perched on the settee, her face pinched and her eyes red.
“Where is she?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked before Thomas could greet her.
“In the morning room.” Or was it now the mourning room, Thomas wondered absurdly. Two footmen had carried her inside last night. She currently lay atop a rectangular table.
Mrs. Chamberlain rose. “Take me to her.”
Thomas hesitated. “Are you certain you wish—”
“She’s mydaughter.” The woman’s voice rose, taking on a shrill quality that was so like Thea’s that Thomas flinched.
Wordlessly, he turned and led her to the morning room at the back of the house. Mrs. Chamberlain let out a sob as she entered behind him. Rushing to the table, she threw her arms over Thea’s abdomen and wailed.
Thomas gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask her to be a little quieter so as not to upset Regan, but he also didn’t want to interrupt the woman’s grief. Hopefully, Regan couldn’t hear her since she was two stories up with her nurse. He moved to the other side of the table and leaned against the doorway that led out to the garden, crossing his arms over his chest.
Mrs. Chamberlain abruptly straightened, her gaze locking on him. “Your note said she fell from the balcony. How did that happen?”
“Presumably, she lost her balance.”
“Presumably?You didn’t see what happened?”
“I did not.” After Miss Whitford left, he’d gone inside and run into Baines. Thomas hadn’t intended to lie, but as he told the butler what happened, the story had simply come out that way: Thomas had been in the sitting room when he’d heard Thea make a sound, followed by glass breaking and a thud. He rushed outside to see her lying on the stones below.
“That doesn’t make sense. How could she have fallen?”
“As you know, the balcony does not have a very high railing. It’s barely two feet tall.”
“Yes, but Thea is short, like me.” Mrs. Chamberlain was about the same height as Thea and she had the same blonde hair. Unlike Thea, she was rather round, with full cheeks and small, brown eyes which reminded Thomas of her son. Gilbert Chamberlain had been arrested for extortion just prior to his wedding five days ago. As much as Thomas didn’t care for Mrs. Chamberlain, she’d been through a great deal of late, and Thomas couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“I don’t understand how she would lose her balance.” Mrs. Chamberlain narrowed her eyes at Thomas. “This is very strange.”
It was impossible to miss the distrust in her expression and tone. Thomas’s sympathy for her began to wane. Thea had filled the woman’s head with stories of Thomas’s inadequacies—as Thea saw them—and Mrs. Chamberlain had some time ago ceased disguising her dislike for him.
“She was drunk,” he said flatly, not caring if saying so was indelicate. “You know how she can be when she imbibes.” Even worse than when she was sober, and Thea could be an absolute virago. His wife had turned out to be nothing like the young woman he’d courted. Thomas had learned firsthand how his own mother had been wooed into marriage by someone only to learn they were not who they’d seemed.
“Of course you would say that,” Mrs. Chamberlain spat. “You’re always criticizing my dear Thea.”
In truth, it was the opposite—her dear Thea was always criticizing Thomas, but he didn’t correct her. Nothing he said would change the woman’s mind about him or, more importantly, her daughter.
“You asked what happened, and I’m telling you. She’d had more glasses of port than I can count.” That much was true. He’d long ago stopped paying attention to much of anything Thea did, except where it pertained to their daughter. And when it came to Regan, Thea didn’t do much.
Mrs. Chamberlain stroked Thea’s pale face. “My poor, sweet girl.” She looked back to Thomas, her features drawn with anguish and fury. “You could have pushed her.”
He stared at her, his temper simmering. “I could have, but I didn’t.”
A flash of shock passed through her eyes. “I should notify Bow Street and have them investigate.”
