Page 15 of Tender Blackguard

He shook his head. “I understand it was all properly proven. Something about a secret marriage of some sort.” The butler waved his hand. “It’s all a bit beyond me.”

Interesting.

Lark considered what the senior servant revealed. She doubted there was any connection between the marquess and Harriet’s disappearance since he’d only recently arrived in town, but there was clear mystery surrounding the man, and it was undeniably intriguing.

“My point in all this, Mrs. Evans, is to say that with you here to take an effective hand in the running of things, I feel it an appropriate time to offer a few referrals.”

Lark blinked. “Referrals?”

A soft look came over the aged man’s craggy features. “I’ve the honor of being grandfather to three girls—all well trained and proper young women—who are looking for new positions. My eldest granddaughter, Lizelle, has been an upstairs maid for several years. Her younger sister, Philippa, has been coming along nicely, as well. And their cousin, Sadie, is still quite young but already has a few years’ experience as scullery maid. I’m sure you’ll find each of them a proper fit for this household. They can provide complete references, of course, but more importantly, I will vouch for them myself.”

Though family referrals were not an uncommon occurrence, she hadn’t expected such to come from this stoic man. Apparently, whisky loosened up more than the old man’s tongue.

“I’d be happy to review your granddaughters’ references, Mr. Gideon, but I cannot make any promises.”

“Of course, Mrs. Evans, I completely understand. The matter is fully in your hands, and I’d never presume to overstep my authority with you on this matter or any other,” he asserted and she believed him. “But they’re qualified and honest and hardworking girls. Even so, I wouldn’t have recommended them to you or this household if I didn’t feel confident in your management.”

And the safety of their virtues.

The last was an unspoken understanding gleaned from the butler’s opening rhetoric.

Lark gave a nod and a quick smile. “I shall certainly take your recommendations into account.”

“Many thanks, Mrs. Evans,” the butler expressed with a hint of genuine emotion. Then he glanced down at his cup—the delicate porcelain cradled carefully in his arthritic hands—with a sigh of disappointment. “I’m afraid my cup’s gone dry. Won’t you offer just another splash?”

The hopeful look in his eyes was almost sweet. And it did the trick as Lark leaned forward with a smile to pour a bit more into both their cups.

“You know, I find this area of London rather fascinating,” she said casually as she eased back in her chair. “And I’ve found it to be prudent, when entering a new household, to learn all I can about the neighborhood.”

The butler nodded sagely. “A wise endeavor.”

“So, tell me, Mr. Gideon, have you learned anything of interest about Warfield’s neighboring households?”

Chapter Six

Alastair stood in front of his mirror, angling his chin to swipe the razor along the underside of his jaw. His finest evening wear was laid out on the bed behind him. Dinner wasn’t to be a particularly formal affair, but when a duke’s daughter came to call, one didn’t skimp on decorum.

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