Page 66 of The Not So Perfect Duke

“An employee of my late father. It’s a long story,” Damon replied. “As to if he is a threat, perhaps he is. He always carried out my father’s dirty work and, I recently discovered, bullied the staff.”

Christian and Eleanora entered the room with a young woman following close behind. This must be the new employee. Edwina Callen was attractive, with golden brown ringlets peeking out from under her bonnet.

Oliver Wollstonecraft immediately stood, his gaze firm on Miss Callen.

It took all of Damon’s restraint not to grin, for the look on Wollstonecraft’s face no doubt matched Damon’s own when he first clapped eyes on Althea.

Interest. Attraction. A hint of it, anyway.

Introductions were made, and Wollstonecraft came to stand by the young lady, taking her hand and bowing over it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Callen. You work for the investigative agency?”

“I do, Mr. Wollstonecraft.” Miss Callen replied. Her voice was husky, her cheeks slightly flushed.

How interesting, Miss Callen was affected by the meeting. Damon supposed most women would find the tall, dark, handsome heir to an earl a fine catch.

“Fascinating,” Wollstonecraft murmured, then in a louder voice, he said, “I must dash. You no doubt have plenty to discuss.” Then he met Miss Callen’s gaze. “Until we meet again.”

“I will show you out,” Damon announced. The two men headed into the main hallway.

Damon held out his hand. “Oliver, I wish to apologize for acting as such a bastard since you joined the club.” And he meant it. It was past time to make amends for boorish behavior and for acting jealous mere moments ago.

“You acted as any heir to a duke would act, at least in my experience. I took no offense—Damon.” Oliver shook his hand.

“Well, again, thank you for your condolences at the funeral. And for coming here today. I will see the club’s door is repaired forthwith and contact you when the next meeting is. I have ideas about a new direction with more to do with philanthropy than our egotistic needs. But you know of what I speak, seeing you are already involved in Hawkestone’s group.”

“I welcome the change.”

The men said their goodbyes, and Damon rejoined the others in the study.

“What is this? The club has been burgled?” Christian stated, shock in his voice.

Damon repeated what Oliver had relayed. “Althea thinks it might be Browning.”

Eleanora stuck her head in the door. “I have tea and scones ready in the dining room. I already served Archie and Mr. Cleve. He is making progress.”

“We will be there directly,” Althea called out. Then she turned to Miss Callen. “We require you to take a train to Cornwall right away. I will fetch the money for the ticket and your accommodations and fill you in on the details. I will join the rest of you later.”

“Miss Callen, please make use of my carriage. Dawson can take you back to your place, wait for you to pack, and drive you to the station,” Damon suggested.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Christian, Damon, and Eleanora headed toward the dining room.

“Well, one good thing about all this activity. It is keeping Althea occupied and not allowing her to dwell on her health predicament,” Eleanora whispered.

“Althea is going to come through this. I am certain of it. She is stronger than we think,” Damon said.

Eleanora stopped in mid-step and faced him. “You act as if you know her. You know nothing, Chellenham.”

Damon took a step closer, firmly meeting Eleanora’s intimidating gaze. “I know that Althea has courage to spare. I held her as she cried. Now she is ready to face what comes, and I will be there to support her.”

“Sweet Mother,” Eleanora whispered. “You are in love with her.”

“That is between Althea and me,” Damon retorted.

Christian took Eleanora’s arm. “Come, El. Damon’s right. Stay out of it. It’s their personal business.”

“Yes, Chris. You are correct,” she capitulated. “Do forgive me, Chellenham.”