Earl of Shefford

for her mama,” she added with a rueful smile. “She has taken a likin’ to ye for sure.”
Poor little Amy. She had not forgotten the child, although she had become very distracted by the appearance of these gentlemen.
“I am afraid you may well be correct,” she said with a sigh. “If you do not mind bringing a tray to the parlor, I would appreciate it. You are a treasure, Mrs. Simpkins.”
“I’ll add some fresh lemon biscuits I jus’ took from the oven. That should help with whatever trouble awaits ye,” she murmured. With a curt nod to the dark-haired, grey-eyed man who stared in their direction through the open door, the older woman left to gather the promised refreshments.
Nora pushed the door behind her towards its frame, leaving it open a crack. Instinct told her that whatever business they had, the children should not hear of it.
“Gentlemen, I have requested tea for us.” She walked over to a somewhat worn, blue velvet settee and sat down. “Please make yourselves comfortable, and once again, I trust you will accept my apologies for earlier. I should perhaps explain… you have caught us at an awkward time. We are still establishing our routines. The orphanage has just reopened after being closed for ten years, you see. There is much to repair and I have yet to appoint a porter.”
“Orphanage?” the Earl mouthed to his friends as he took his seat in a yellow and blue patterned chair next to a matching blue sofa. Although her grandmother had insisted, she was tired of the colors, Nora was well aware it was a Banbury story. She could not refuse without appearing ungrateful and, truth be known, she had been very glad to accept, for it meant she had one respectable room in which to receive guests,
The other two men quietly retired to a small, round maple table with two matching chairs. Turning the chairs towards Nora and Lord Shefford, they sat down.
“Permit me to beg your pardon for the intrusion, Miss Mason. We thought the building was unoccupied. I wish to inspect it with a view to its suitability for another use entirely. You can imagine my surprise,” Lord Shefford responded, his voice echoing disbelief.
“Then I think we must both be thunderstruck by these events,” she said, forcing her lips into a stiff smile. “My family has fully supported my efforts to reopen the orphanage which closed, as I informed you earlier, ten years past. I am trying to understand how it can be possible you thought the property to be available,” she added sweetly, trusting the tremors in her voice were hidden beneath the strength of her words. Uncle’s threat to sell resonated in her head. Surely Grandmama did not agree to that. There has to be a mistake. Her heart pounded.
“I can only apologize again for thrusting business upon you,” Lord Shefford replied, “but I think this document will convey everything.”
Nora studied the paper. It appeared to be a deed to the building, signed by Uncle Wilford.
“How can this be? I have been told that my uncle does not own the rights to this building. My grandmother does.”
“Perhaps he has been placed in charge of her possessions,” Lord Shefford offered.
“I hesitate to disagree with you, sir, but my grandfather purchased this building as a gift for my grandmother. She recently encouraged me to reopen the orphanage.” Nora took a deep breath and tried to quiet her nerves. “I fear there has been a dreadful mistake,” she continued.
“I hardly think so, Miss Mason. Your uncle used this deed to cover a wager in a game of chance two evenings ago. He lost. The building is mine.” He gazed about the room. “I did not understand the property was occupied…” He paused. “I have no wish to turn women and small children out of their home. Therefore, with your forbearance, I should like a few days to consider an alternative for you.”
Nora wanted to scream, but training dictated she remain as calm as possible, no matter how boorish this man was being. It was all of a piece and joined the other reasons she hated the ton—its members only thought of themselves. Her family had lost too much. She had lost too much. She would not lose this building. Her children would not lose their home.
“With all due respect, my lord, there has been a mistake. This building is owned by my grandmother. If she had given it to my uncle to manage…” She nearly spat the word. “…she would have informed me, as she has been assisting me with the reopening.” Silence fell over the room, broken only by the ticking of the long-case clock in one corner. Nora tried not to fidget with her hands where they lay folded in her lap. What could she say? The faces of the three gentlemen gave no clue as to their thoughts.
A slight knock on the door heralded the entrance of Mrs. Simpkins with the tea tray. Nora was never more glad to see anyone in her life.
“Thank you, Mrs. Simpkins,” Nora said, with more warmth than perhaps the service warranted. Then, stiffening her spine and smiling through clenched teeth, she addressed Lord Shefford. “My grandmother has also generously lent me her cook. Mrs. Simpkins has been kind enough to take on the role of cook-housekeeper for the school.”
“Your grandmother’s cook?” Lord Bergen spoke up from the back, ignoring the startled faces of his friends. “May I inquire who your grandmother is, Miss Mason?”
Nora took a deep breath. At least one of the three had a reasonable mind. She turned to Mrs. Simpkins.
“That will be all,” she said firmly as Mrs. Simpkins showed a desire to linger.
“Very good, miss.” Bobbing an unsteady curtsey, the cook reluctantly left the room.
Turning back to face the gentlemen, Nora’s gaze met Lord Shefford’s before she lowered it politely.
“I find this whole matter most distressing, but since, on this occasion, it is so important,” she said, pausing, “I will tell you.