“Whatever for? The young ladies in their set are quite fond of them, and the Alfords will be excellent hosts. It will be a grand event full of people their own age.”
“And they will be haunted by the ghost of what their sister did at her last house party,” Annabel said quietly. “Jane and Johanna will escape it because we’re not related by blood, and Jasper’s behavior has always been…rebellious. But my sisters will be whispered about every time they leave the room. We’ll undo all your generosity. Or, worse, one of them—likely Rebecca—will misbehave, and we’ll disgrace your family as well.”
“No wonder he likes you.” After a long sip of tea, Sylvia nodded. “So be it. I’ll take Jane and Johanna, but we’ll send your mother and sisters to Bath for a holiday.” She held up her hand to stop Annabel’s protest. “That’s my price, Annabel. Rachel and Rebecca need a treat, as does your mother—as do you. We will go to the Alfords, they will go to Bath, and you and Jasper will go somewhere altogether different. Alone.”
Alone. With Jasper.
Annabel put her needlepoint aside for fear of poking her finger and bleeding all over the sofa cushions.
“You do like him, don’t you?” the countess asked. “I know things didn’t start on solid footing, but you both seemed to be adjusting well. Am I wrong?”
That was the rub, wasn’t it? Despite his teasing—or maybe because of it—Annabel liked Jasper. His manner relaxed her, perhaps too much, and when they were alone, it was easy to believe he might like her as well.
Then there was last night’s kiss. It might have been her first, but she’d heard other girls talk about their experiences and knew that most of them had been unenjoyable. Hers had been something she’d remember when she was old and gray.
She’d remember her time in this house fondly, but Lady Lambourn and her children wouldn’t feel the same. Especially if Reginald Spencer was able to convince those in power that Jasper was conspiring against the Crown.
“Lady Lambourn—”
A knock on the door preceded Stapleton’s arrival. “Lady Ramsbury, I apologize for the interruption, but your assistance is required in the kitchen.”
“Certainly.” Annabel smiled a goodbye to her mother-in-law before walking into the hallway and waiting for Stapleton to close the door behind her.
“Thank you, my lady.” He kept just behind her shoulder as they descended the stairs, and his long stride urged Annabel to quicken her pace. “Facing the French at Waterloo was easier than standing between Cook and Mrs. Wright.”
“Come now. Mrs. Wright wouldn’t hurt a fly.” And Mrs. Elliot, the family cook, was well loved by all the staff, though she did have a sharp tongue when her reputation was on the line.
However, as they reached the hall and went through the staff entrance, screeching floated up the back stairs. Now Stapleton took the lead.
“All of you, back to work.” His command sent wide-eyed maids and houseboys scurrying.
The cook and the housekeeper stood on opposing sides of the table, but their duel stuttered to a stop as Annabel entered the kitchen. “What seems to be the trouble?”
The housekeeper shot a shaking finger at her opponent. “She has accused me of skimping on the food budget and pocketing the difference.”
“I never said you’d pocketed the difference, but you have been skimping on the budget.” Cook lifted a limp, spotted bunch of greens. “I wouldn’t feed these to hogs.”
“They weren’t spotted when I put them in the larder. You shouldn’t have kept them for so long.”
“They were wilted when the grocer brought them,” Cook shouted. “Not to mention the berries. Flats of them that went soft within two days.”
Annabel remembered the berries. They’d been served with every meal during her first week in the house. Jasper had grumbled that his hair was changing color.
“You have the purse and the key to the larder, and I have to make do with what you bring me.” Mrs. Elliot shook the greens to punctuate her sentence, and one ruined leaf landed on the floor with a sickening slap.
Annabel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, though it was difficult when Stapleton coughed to hide his laughter. It would be easy to fall back on her experience with Jasper as a generous husband, to suspect the housekeeper of skimming. Except for the tears shining in her eyes and what Annabel remembered from the old marquess’s journals in the Kennet Hall library.
“Mrs. Elliot, please make an inventory of the larder. Mrs. Wright, please gather your records and bring them to his lordship’s office.” She nodded to the butler. “Come with me, Stapleton.”
They returned upstairs, and Annabel led the way to Jasper’s study. “Where does Lord Ramsbury keep his ledgers?”
“Your ladyship, I’m not certain—”
She wasn’t either. “I am certain that his lordship would prefer his marchioness handle matters of the household so he can focus on matters in Parliament.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the bottom desk drawer. It housed nothing but a heavy red leather ledger identical to the ones in Wiltshire. Annabel lifted it to the desk and flipped to the most recent pages, careful not to topple the pile of unopened correspondence on the corner of the desk.
Mrs. Wright joined them with her records, which she surrendered to Annabel.
Annabel ran her finger down the entries, made in Jasper’s hand, until she found the latest amounts for the kitchen.
“His lordship has marked down thirty pounds for food this month. Up from twenty, which is to be expected with our marriage and the expectations of the Season.” It was also plenty to provide fresh, prime food.
“Thirty pounds?” The housekeeper dropped into the nearest chair. “My lady, I was given twenty. And on the months he had allotted twenty, I was lucky to get fifteen. I give you my word.”
“And I trust that word, Mrs. Wright. Leave it to me to decipher.” Annabel gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “His lordship and I will resolve this matter when he returns home this evening.”
If he returned home while she was awake.
“Thank you, your ladyship.” Mrs. Wright left in a whisper of skirts, her back straight and her shoulders square.
Once alone, Annabel swept back to the beginning of the ledger, looking for the point when Jasper had inherited. His stark, straight figures were easy to decipher. The strokes reminded her of her husband himself, and it doubled her focus. Jasper’s open manner often masked something he wanted to hide.
The only new expense was a regular payment to Kit Yarwood—not much more than Stapleton’s salary. Annabel had thought he and Jasper were merely friends, but who paid their friends a salary?
Stapleton cleared his throat. “I don’t believe Mrs. Wright to be a thief.”
“Neither do I, but I want the evidence to submit to his lordship.” Annabel reviewed the housekeeper’s ledger and receipts, noting the dates and amounts. Always five to ten pounds less than the amounts in the ledger, but always exact. “Do you have receipts for other expenses?
