It had been three days since Lord Marcus had taken Charlotte and Anya to tea and Lord Tristram still hadn’t visited.
But…there had been such stories flying between the servants’ halls as to have Anya quite hopeful.
She checked to make sure their mothers weren’t listening, then leaned towards Charlotte. “Apparently, Lord Tristram has been staying at the Earl of Buckhaven’s residence since his return, presumably to do with their work. At least, until the evening of our conversation with Lord Marcus.”
Charlotte leaned in. “What happened?”
“What I heard was that Lord Tristram has now transferred to his own town residence and is raising something of a kerfuffle.” Anya grinned. “My maid had it from one of His Lordship’s footmen, direct, that His Lordship’s personal secretary, left here in London to take care of vital business, was put on the first stage coach back to whatever country parson’s home he’d come from.”
“Why?” Charlotte frowned.
“He’d not fulfilled his duties correctly and lied to Lord Tristram about it. And the footman was convinced it had something to do with you, and missing letters.”
Anya’s cousin shook her head. “But he still sent that jewellery. And that would have to have been the secretary, all the pieces were from Rundell & Bridge. Why send necklaces but not notes?”
Before Anya could reply, the door opened, and the butler announced. “Lord Tristram, and Lord Marcus, my ladies.”
The DNA of Stories 