Page 27 of The Rum and The Fox

“Nothing, of course,” Ash said in a hurry. “Only Mama has been seen in his company a good deal, and …” Ash swallowed and looked away from that piercing green gaze. “And that the young lady who stayed the night here was his daughter.”

The fury in her eyes was so magnetic, Ash could not look away, and spluttered to get the rest of his explanation done before she exploded.

“The wretched man beat her and her maid with such violence that you would be shocked beyond measure. They came here to take refuge, and I was more than happy to provide it in the circumstances. I assure you, there was nothing inappropriate in any way. The doctor came to see her, he’ll verify it.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable, but the silence created by her lack of reaction was dreadfully unsettling. That she was displeased was only too obvious.

“Felix,” she said, her tone that of one who was fast losing patience with one she believed an utter fool. “Why did the young woman seek you out?”

Ash fell silent as he realised he’d have to stick to the story that he’d given the inspector, and that his grandmother wasn’t going to like it one bit. If she’d objected to her daughter marrying Lord Todd, that was nothing to the objections she would throw at him over the idea that Lady Todd might become the next Duchess of Chartley.

She’d have a damned apoplexy.

Ash cleared his throat, his cravat feeling all at once as though he’d tied it too tight. Impossible, of course; if there was one thing he could do that was the envy of almost every man in the ton, it was to tie a perfect cravat. Not that there was much else to brag about, but at least it was something. He realised his thoughts had veered from the point again, and glanced up to find Lady Margaret looking at him like she wanted to commit murder herself.

“I …” Ash began and then fell silent as screams could be heard from entrance hall.

“Good Lord,” he exclaimed, and snatched at the opportunity to run from the room.

On reflection, he rather wished he’d stayed with his grandmother, as the scene enfolding before him was of a melodramatic nature that he found little favour with.

The beleaguered Mr Formby had caught his mother in a swoon and was looking as though he’d wish himself to Hades rather than remain where he was a moment longer. To add to the ghastly scene, his sister Hannah was hysterical.

“What did you do?” he demanded of Formby, who was looking guilty, to say the least.

“Well, how was I to know you hadn’t told them about the murder yet?” he demanded, staggering under Lady Ashwicke’s weight in a manner that that lady would have not appreciated if she’d been awake. Taking pity on the man, as he was not the most robust of fellows, Ash took his mother from the inspector’s arms and returned her to the yellow salon to be laid on a chaise longue, while his grandmother looked on with an air of deep disapproval.

After sending a wide-eyed maid for heartshorn and smelling salts, Ash returned to give Hannah a shake. This stopped her screaming but instead made her cry, a distraught wailing sound that Ash wasn’t sure wasn’t worse. Ushering his sister into the salon with his mother, Ash instructed a stony-faced Grant to make Formby comfortable elsewhere while he dealt with the crisis.

“I would like to speak with the ladies, your grace,” Formby objected as the butler moved off.

Ash favoured him with a look of deep disgust. “And so you shall, when they are calm enough to do so. If you had not broken the news in quite such a manner, perhaps that might have been achieved sooner.”

Ash was rather surprised that the inspector actually looked rather chastened by this set-down. Ash himself was forced to concede that he had never before sounded more like his grandfather. Defending his family seemed to bring out those centuries of ducal breeding and superiority in a manner nothing else ever had. Still, that didn’t save him from actually doing as he said and heading back to the salon to deal with his female relations.

Things were little better. Hannah was sobbing in a chair by the fire and his grandmother was holding smelling salts beneath his mother’s nose with a look of revulsion at this excessive display of emotion.

As his mother seemed reluctant to emerge from her swoon - and who could blame her - Ash went to deal with his sister.

He and Hannah had never been especially close, as he found her spoilt and over-indulged, and her tantrums were something he could not stomach. However, he was fond of her, and though he felt she didn’t hold him in very great esteem, she always turned to him in matters of sartorial judgement, realising, at least, that her dear mama’s taste was not to be relied upon. To see her in such distress was something he could not bear, and he drew up a chair beside her and handed her his handkerchief.

“Why are you so distressed, Hannah?” he asked, though as he spoke, the obvious answer settled in his gut with a feeling of horror.

Hannah looked up at him. Her eyes were a rich brown like his mother’s, but although a very pretty girl, she was not the beauty Lady Anne had been or indeed still was. There was irritation in her eyes along with the very obvious distress.

“He was in love with me, and I with him,” she said, dissolving into heaving great sobs once again.

Any feelings of remorse that Ash may have harboured at having murdered a man were now well and truly at an end. That an experienced man like Todd could have seduced a silly, young chit like his sister, while trying to fix his interest with the mother at one and the same time … Bile rose in his throat, and he knew that, given the chance, he would kill the wretch over again if he could.

“But, Hannah,” Ash said, staring at his sister as though she was a creature he had never seen before, and he rather thought that perhaps she was. “You knew Lord Todd was courting Mama.”

The girl’s face darkened. “He had to marry her,” she spat, and, to Ash’s dismay, he saw that his mother had revived and was staring at Hannah with undisguised horror. “He had to because he had no fortune, but he didn’t love her, he loved me!” This last was screamed in fury as his mother gasped and began to cry herself.

“You stupid little slut!” his grandmother said, her words cutting through the hysteria and jolting Hannah as though she’d been slapped.

“Hannah,” Ash said, his tone hard. “I think it may be best if you retire to your room. You are clearly not yourself, once you have had time to reflect …”

But Hannah just sneered at him with disdain. “But I am, brother dear. I loved Thomas. He was a real man, not some primped dandy who’s scared of Grandmama as well as his own shadow.”