“I inquired with his father, Lord Landsdowne, concerning the letter of character he provided for you.”
Oh good heavens. She had not supposed he had done so. Her deception had been bold and risky, but it had been her only choice. But it was apparent that if he had inquired with the earl, then he must have also discovered she had forged the letter.
“Yes,” Mr. Sutton said, as if he had access to the thoughts frantically wheeling through her mind. “I’m aware the document wasn’t written by the earl. He was displeased by the manner in which you left and made no secret of it.”
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her gown but she forced herself to remain otherwise still. “How long have you known?”
Mr. Sutton inclined his head. “Since the first week you joined us. I ain’t the sort of chap who doesn’t believe in second chances, Miss Wren. But I also protect what’s mine. The penmanship on your letter was too damned flowery to belong to a cove, so I investigated.”
He had known from almost the beginning of her tenure here. It seemed impossible that he would know she had lied and yet keep her on.
“Nothing to say, Miss Wren?” he asked gently. “No need to look cow-hearted. I won’t be dismissing you over the letter of character.”
“You won’t?”
“Landsdowne is a bag of wind. Never cared for his opinion on anything. I only tolerate the man at my establishment because I like his coin. I’ve been watching you with Anne and Elizabeth, as has my wife. I trust our judgment far more.”
Lord Landsdowne was a blustery sort of fellow. And his son was even more despicable. The differences between her former employer and Mr. Sutton and Lady Octavia could not be more disparate.
“Thank you, sir.” Her relief was tentative, for there was more to this dialogue, another reason why she had been called before him.
Gregson’s whipping.
She swallowed.
“Gregson demanded an audience with you,” Mr. Sutton said.
Panic hit her with the force of a blow. For a moment, she could not catch her breath. The thought of once more facing him made bile rise in her throat. “Please, Mr. Sutton, do not require that of me.”
“No fears on that account either, Miss Wren. I don’t invite swine beneath my roof. This ain’t a barn.”
She would have smiled were she not so desperately on edge, fearful of what he would say next. “I am relieved, sir. However, I am uncertain what you want from me concerning this matter.”
His fingers gave another slow, rhythmic drum, and he watched her once more, with that calculating gaze that told her he was as shrewd as he seemed and that he saw far more than those around him wished for him to see.
“After I learned what had happened to Gregson, I found myself curious, Miss Wren. I made some inquiries.”
She glanced down at her lap, startled to discover her fingers were white with tension, and that she had nearly twisted her skirts into knots. “If you wish to dismiss me, Mr. Sutton, I understand.”
Although Gregson had attempted to force himself on her, there was a stain cast upon her virtue solely because of her sex. In her former life, she would have been compromised. Ruined. Lord Gregson would have had to wed her to save his honor and protect her reputation. In her new life, as Persephone Wren, a governess prayed she could move to her next situation bereft of the shame that accompanied such terrible circumstances.
“I’ll not be dismissing you, Miss Wren,” Mr. Sutton said, his voice gentling. “All I want is an answer. Just what the devil is between you and my brother Rafe?”
It was a fair question.
If only she knew the answer.
Nothing? Everything?
Looking back up at her employer, she thought about what had happened earlier that day and she could not control the warmth flaring in her cheeks. “Nothing, sir. As I said, Mr. Sutton has been a gentleman on the rare occasions when he was in my presence.”
Mr. Sutton raised a dark brow. “The morning after Lady Octavia was attacked, Anne and Elizabeth reported to us that Uncle Rafe told them Miss Wren was sleeping and that they weren’t to tell. As I recall, he also urged them to remind me of something in a similar vein as what you just said, that he is a gentleman. I ought to have addressed it when the incident was fresh, but your conduct has been excellent, and I was hoping the matter would take care of itself. Given what I have recently heard, I must ask.”
Yes, she supposed he must. Mr. Sutton was speaking of the morning Rafe had slept in her bed.
After she had slipped the laudanum into his brandy. What a terrible coil in which she found herself.
“I overslept that morning,” she lied, desperate to remain here. “Forgive me, sir. I believe Mr. Sutton agreed to help find me for the twins, but I was yet abed. The excitement of the day before had quite overset me, though it is no excuse.”