Earl of Shefford

tour.”
Nora put Amy down and showed her grandmother around the living rooms and the classrooms, pointing out what her plans were in the unfinished areas. She needed paint, some carpentry and cabinetry and was thrilled by the addition of Amos Woods as a man of all work. With his labor and that of the gardener, Marsh, she envisioned living in more comfortable circumstances. She planned to teach the fundamentals in reading, writing, arithmetic, and manners. In addition, she intended to provide some essential skills which would eventually enable the children to secure safe employment, away from the streets and the life they would, most likely, have faced without her intervention.
“I can see that your present situation agrees with you, Nora,” her grandmother said, shaking her from her reverie.
“Yes, Grandmama, I believe it does. I enjoy having the opportunity to help these children, and being able to contribute, in a positive way, to society. I wish for them to learn a trade so they might better themselves and have skills to rely upon in times of uncertainty.” Her own family situation was a salutary reminder of that necessity, she thought ruefully.
Once the door to the parlor had closed behind them, the Countess stepped forward and gave her granddaughter a big hug.
“Tell me, child, what is the matter?”
“You know?” Nora’s vision misted.
“I see you are troubled, girl, and that is all I need to understand.” She gently wiped the tears from Nora’s eyes and looked around the room.
“I am worried about the future of the orphanage, Grandmama,” Nora admitted as calmly as she could.
“Nonsense. You have accomplished much here, my dear. What has you so upset?”
Nora sought to avoid regaling her grandmother with the details of Lord Shefford’s call. She wished this visit could be only about the children and thus had preferred to show her the orphans’ adorable faces—faces belonging to the children Grandmama had helped. Nonetheless, Nora needed to know the truth. She drew in a sharp breath. “Grandmama, I had a visitor earlier this morning—three visitors, in fact. They left shortly before you arrived. The Lords Shefford, Bergen, and Morray called on me. Lord Shefford had in his possession a deed to this building which Uncle Wilford had signed.” She searched her grandmother’s face, and the disbelief she saw in that lady’s expression acknowledged her worst fears.
“Lud! My son has sold the building?” the Countess exclaimed, her face coloring red. “How can that be?”
The response was not what Nora had hoped to hear. She grappled with the icy feeling of shock and fear in the pit of her stomach.
“Grandmama, Uncle did not sell it. He lost it… at the card table.”
Her grandmother opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and stayed quiet for a moment.
“I will look into this immediately. In the meantime, I do not wish for you to worry about your orphanage, Nora. Come, let us be seated.” They both moved to the sofa. “This is highly improbable, my dear. My husband, your grandpapa, gave me this property, and I have kept it separate from the estate business.” She patted Nora’s hand. “I will resolve this. I should speak with Lord Shefford. If your uncle has hoodwinked a peer, there could be a steep price to pay, and I will be the least of his worries. Shefford is a powerful gentleman, and while I am not without my own connections, this could be disastrous for your uncle.”
“I shall do my best not to worry, then.” Nora spoke the words although she did not feel the sentiment. Where will my children go? Who will care for them if there is no orphanage?

Chapter 7
A few hours after taking his leave of Miss Mason, Colin directed his carriage to stop and he and Bergen took the steps to the club two at a time. Anxiety was palpable in his friend’s demeanor—and no doubt his own—as Colin pulled on the brass lion bell.
A tall man with greying hair answered the door. “Lord Shefford, Lord Bergen, good evening. How may I be of help?”
“Henry, has Lord Morray arrived?” Colin inquired.
“He is here, my lord. I believe he went to Lord Baxter’s office.”
“Excellent.” Morray had undoubtedly already spoken to Baxter. “Thank you,” Colin returned, as he and Bergen handed their coats and hats to the doorman.
“I was here earlier and heard Baxter moved his office to the second floor. We can access it with the back stairs,” Bergen supplied as the two men hurried down the hall. They pulled the door open to the hallway and knocked on the ornate wooden door in front of them. Hearing an invitation, they entered.
“I am glad to find you both here,” Colin said without preamble. “I need your help.” He looked at Morray. “You were right. Whitton persuaded the magistrate to release him and he has threatened my family—my mother, to be specific.”
“What happened?” Morray withdrew his cigar from his mouth and pressed it out in the ashtray sitting next to him.
“This situation with Whitton has grown out of control. I cannot conjecture why the magistrate has let him go. However, the man threw a stone through the window of my mother’s town house and followed that infamous act by leaving a card at mine,” Shefford stated, much more calmly than he felt. “I will not allow the man to threaten my family.”
“Was a note attached to the stone?” Morray asked.
“Yes. It told her to return the deed. Of course, Mother would not know to what he was referring.”
“Give me a few hours to find him,” Baxter offered. “We have connections, and avenues not open to the majority of Society.”
“We will find Whitton,” Morray added. “The man needs to be brought to justice.”
“Morray has acquainted me with the facts. However, there is more I would like to know before I petition lords and magistrates. Take a seat and join us. I have just ordered a light repast. There should be plenty for the four of us.” Baxter pulled a cord beside the fireplace.