An Unlikely Father by Lynn Collum Page A

Bedows was in a quandary. Should he usher the women into a drawing room or send them to the Red Lion in the village until his lordship could make other arrangements?
    In truth, Lord Hawksworth had sent a message to the actresses not to come, along with ample compensation for their inconvenience. But unfortunately for Miss Colette Devereau, the missive had arrived during her performance at the Drury Lane Theatre. The manager of the small troupe of actors and actresses had intercepted the missive and pocketed the fifty pounds, hurrying to his favorite ale house. He’d disappeared without informing the actress that she and her friends would not be needed at Hawk’s Lair. So the ladies had hired carriages and set out on the long, cold journey to Bath.
    Bedows, hoping his lordship would return from his ride at any moment, opted to delay the women’s entry. It just didn’t feel proper to have these fancy articles in the castle when ladies like Miss Collins and Mrs. Keaton were in residence. In a voice that left no doubt of the superiority of his station in life, he asked, “Are you certain that you are expected, madam?”
    The smile on Miss Devereau’s face grew a bit brittle. “Of course we are expected. Do you think we have driven all the way to the country for our health, you silly old sod?” With that the three females behind her brayed with laugher. “Now stand aside, for his lordship is waiting.”
    The old retainer looked down his nose at the female with the painted face. “Lord Hawksworth is not at home this morning, madam. Mayhap you would go to the nearest inn and allow his lordship—”
    “Go to an inn!” The actress put her red calfskin gloved hands on her hips. “Who do you think you are to be turning his lordship’s invited guests away, you tallow-faced old—”
    From behind the butler a female voice interrupted, “Is there a problem, Bedows?”
    The butler gave the young lady a frown. “Nothing I can’t handle, Miss Collins.”
    Emily scrutinized the women outside with interest. She had never been quite this close to such females, and she was truly curious what it was that the gentlemen saw in such flamboyant creatures.
    Miss Devereau, seeing a woman inside the castle in a plain grey gown, jumped to the faulty conclusion that she was the housekeeper, albeit a very young one. But then, rakes were called rakes for a reason. “I have been telling this obnoxious fellow that we are invited guests of Lord Hawksworth.”
    Emily didn’t know what possessed her, but she suddenly announced, “Then, Bedows, escort his lordship’s guests to a drawing room to await the earl’s return.”
    Bedows appeared relieved that Miss Collins had arrived to take the responsibility from his aged shoulders. “Very good, miss. This way ... ladies .”
    He led the quartet of actresses to the Queen’s Saloon, the finest chamber in the castle, hoping that the grandeur of the room would intimidate the creatures into a semblance of sedate behavior.
    About to depart, he was startled when Miss Collins entered behind him and requested that refreshments be served. The old man cupped his mouth with a thin bony hand as he whispered, “Miss, you needn’t stay with this lot. ’Tain’t proper, nor would his lordship expect it.”
    Emily merely smiled, saying, “But I am interested in meeting Lord Hawksworth’s guests.” Placing a reassuring hand on the servant’s arm as his worried expression deepened, she added, “Do not worry, Bedows. I am quite capable of managing things of an unusual nature.”
    As the butler left, he heard Miss Collins greet the loose females as if they were from the local church sewing society instead of the Haymarket ware they were. He shook his head, wondering what Lord Hawksworth would make of the gathering in the saloon upon his return.
    Some thirty minutes later, Hawksworth and Sir Ethan cantered into the stable yard after a brisk ride about the earl’s estate. Oliver was in a far better mood