ANNE ASHLEY - The Viscount's Scandalous Return

‘Don’t wait for Beau,’ Isabel advised the old man as she stepped over the threshold. ‘He’s obviously picked up the scent of a rat, or something or other. He’ll come and find me when he’s ready.’

‘So long as he doesn’t present any vermin he does happen to locate to me on his return,’ his lordship remarked drily, which resulted in Isabel gurgling with mirth.

The Viscount’s immediate smile in response held the old butler transfixed for a second or two before he turned to close the door. Not since his lordship had been a boy had he seen him smile so naturally or so warmly.

His astonishment was no less marked than Isabel’s when she stepped into the low-ceilinged front parlour and first glimpsed the elegant furnishings. She had a fairly shrewd idea from where they had come. At least his lordship had put some of the old drawing-room furniture up at the Manor to good use, and no doubt Bunting had been most appreciative. Undeniably it was a deal more respectable than hers at the farmhouse, and she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy.

After taking a seat, but refusing the offer of refreshment, his lordship didn’t waste time in coming to the reason for the visit, which resulted in the old man’s smile instantly disappearing.

If the truth were known, it was something the ex-butler would far rather forget. A lifetime in service, however, could not be so easily forgotten. He would never consider disobeying one of the Viscount’s requests, even though, strictly speaking, he was no longer in his lordship’s employ. None the less, the young master had been generous since his return by providing a comfortable little home, fully furnished. It was little enough to ask in return, Bunting decided.

‘What precisely do you wish to know, my lord?’

‘I’d like you to go through the events of the evening before, when my cousin Francis came to dine. That much I can remember, and storming out of the house in a rage just prior to his arrival, after a—er—slight altercation with my sire.’ His lordship’s teeth flashed in one of his saturnine smiles. ‘Which I’m positive you must surely have overheard, or, at the very least, learned about later.’

‘Quite so,’ the old butler acknowledged apologetically.

Something occurred to Isabel as rather odd at this point in the discussion, but she decided to keep her own counsel for the present, and listened intently to what the old man had to say.

‘Mr Francis Blackwood arrived around six. Dinner that evening was not what you might term an enjoyable affair, as I recall. His lordship was still angry with you, sir. And I have to say your brother didn’t help the situation by reminding his father of certain of your past—er—misdemeanours, though Mr Francis came to your defence on more than one occasion, as I recall, suggesting a career in the army might be the best thing for you.’

‘How very magnanimous of him!’ his lordship put in, still smiling faintly. ‘I must remember to thank him when next we meet. And thank him, too, for taking some responsibility for the Manor during my absence.’ His lordship ceased to contemplate the logs in the hearth, and looked across at his old servant once more. ‘But I interrupted you, Bunting. Pray continue.’

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