Oberon shook his head at his own folly, for he knew better than to court trouble. The last thing he needed was to do something reckless that endangered all that he had worked for these past years, as well as the work—and even the lives—of others. At the thought, Oberon considered returning to London, far from the intriguing young woman. But that would mean turning his back on whatever might be going on here, as well as leaving his mother behind. And he had no good reason to do either.
No matter who or what she was, Miss Sutton could hardly get the better of him. Oberon knew how to keep his head, play a part, and, most of all, maintain control.
Gossip travels fast in close environs, and Philtwell was no exception. Oberon had not yet returned to Sutton House when news reached his mother of the contretemps in front of the Pump Room. It came in through the kitchens first, a delivery boy relating the incident to the enthralled staff, and from there to the upper servants, including Randolph’s valet.
While he intended to relay this information at the earliest opportunity, a couple of callers arrived to pay their respects to the visiting dowager. So it was through a Mrs Malemeyne that Letitia received the first report that her son had been seen in the village with the very young woman she had hoped he might meet.
Her initial pleasure was dimmed by the description of the encounter, which varied according to the messenger. Mrs Malemeyne, eager to ingratiate herself with the dowager, claimed that the duke was a hero for coming to the aid of a fainting woman, while the persons he so selflessly served were ingrates who fled the scene with undue haste. Leaning close, Mrs Malemeyne confided that she thought little enough of the Suttons, for the girl was too bold, by half, and the aunt seemed in ill health, for all the swooning that she did.
Mrs Levet was more circumspect. There appeared to be shouting, she said, though she was sure his Grace wasn’t the one doing it. And there were reports of a blow, though she was uncertain who struck whom. Alarmed at this version of events, the dowager turned to Mrs Goodhew for the truth, an elderly woman who had once been the arbiter of the small society that made up Philtwell.
The dowager found her old friend still residing in a small manor house that had long been the home of the squires that served the area. Having outlived most of her contemporaries, Mrs Goodhew welcomed her visitor eagerly, holding court in a chair near the fire, despite the warmth of the day.
‘It’s a pleasure to see you, Letty,’ she said, her voice still strong.
‘And you, Maisie,’ Letitia said. ‘So much has changed since I last was here that it is a comfort to find you and Randolph carrying on.’
Maisie snorted. ‘Is that what you call it?’ Then she studied Letitia through narrowed eyes. ‘And Randolph? How is he faring?’
‘Oh, much better,’ Letitia said, meeting the older woman’s questioning gaze head on.
Maisie snorted again, as if she was having none of it, but she did not pursue the subject. ‘I hear you brought your son along.’
‘Yes,’ Letitia said. ‘I wanted him to see the spa where his father and I met.’
Maisie sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s not the same, Letty. It hasn’t been since the fire.’
‘Yes, that’s what Randolph said.’
Maisie shook her head again. ‘It was a horrible night. Frank and I were in the Assembly Rooms when it happened, all so quickly that we hadn’t the sense to realise … I heard something, like a cannon ball or some sort of explosion, but I’m sure we all would have ignored it, if Sutton hadn’t made us get out. Our men did the best they could, but the inn was already engulfed and it was spreading. Sutton tried to go in.’
Letitia made a sound of dismay, and Maisie frowned. ‘I’m surprised more people weren’t killed.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But that was the end, Letty. Sutton’s wife didn’t have the heart for it, probably not the money, either, and something like that irrevocably damages a place’s reputation.’
‘Yet it might recover,’ Letitia said. ‘I understand the Sutton children are back.’
‘Yes, but it might be too late. The village lost its heart. Damn fools haven’t been very welcoming. They blame the family for everything that’s happened since.’
‘Yes, I heard of an odd episode today,’ Letitia said carefully.
Maisie’s expression grew sly. ‘Involving your son.’
Letitia nodded, relieved to hear her old friend was still awake on every suit. ‘I wasn’t certain whether you kept yourself as informed as in the old days.’
‘I do the best I can, aided by a few of my younger friends and my faithful servants, of course.’
Letitia leaned forwards. ‘I would be curious to hear your version of events, for a certain Mrs Malemeyne painted Oberon in quite a heroic light, a pose that seems unlikely.’
Maisie snorted. ‘Malemeyne. A trumped-up clerk’s wife who tries to pass herself off as gentry.’ She paused. ‘I don’t know your son, but I hear he was with one of the shadier characters who’ve invaded Philtwell in the past few years. The fellow claims to be a doctor, but who knows? Nosed around the well as though he wanted to take it over, but he has no legal right to anything.’
She paused. ‘The Suttons still own all but the big house, so Randolph wrote to them, and it wasn’t long before they arrived, the son, the daughter and an aunt. That didn’t sit well with some people, including this doctor. From what I hear, he’s been bullying the girl, who appears to be the one arranging the re-opening.’
‘Ah …’ Letitia sat back. She hesitated to say too much, for age obviously had not dulled Maisie’s wits.
‘My sources tell me that the doctor was shouting at the girl. Outrageous, if you ask me. Why, in my day, he’d have been horsewhipped. But people mind their own business now,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I suspect the doctor latched on to your son as he would any well-dressed gentleman, and, not knowing who’s who in our little community, the duke certainly can be forgiven for not stepping in.’
Letitia frowned at the poor excuse for her son’s behaviour. ‘Although I wouldn’t paint him as heroic, I can’t imagine he would stand aside while a young lady is abused.’
‘Perhaps he did not, for no one was close enough to eavesdrop. And obviously he aided the aunt, for, by all accounts, he caught her when she fainted.’
‘But then Miss Sutton dragged her away.’
‘Perhaps, but it is hardly a matter of consequence,’ Maisie said.
Maisie was right. In the usual course of things, the episode would quickly be forgotten, but Letitia had pinned her hopes for the future upon a felicitous meeting between her son and Miss Sutton and she saw her plans going sadly awry before they had even begun. She did not easily surrender, however, and she set her mouth in a determined line, unwilling to give up on the first decent prospect she’d had in years.
‘Letty?’ Maisie said, sending her a sharp glance.
‘You are correct, as usual, Maisie dear, but I do so want my son to enjoy Philtwell as I have,’ Maisie said, without going into details. ‘Perhaps I should try to set everyone to rights, to avoid any misunderstandings.’
Such a reaction on her part would hardly be suspect, Letitia decided, and from what she had just heard, it was clearly time for her to step in. Leery of being perceived as matchmaking, she and Randolph had hoped to let Mother Nature take its course, but that didn’t seem possible now.
Unfortunately, as everyone knew, the old girl was not very reliable.
Glory lagged behind her aunt and her brother, uncharacteristically dragging her