Free A Noble Pair of Brothers (The Underwood Mysteries Book 1) by Suzanne Downes

and ordered my immediate removal from the college grounds.  I grew military-style moustaches until I felt he had forgotten the incident.”
    Miss Chapell went off again into whoops of laughter, not least at the idea of her companion with a moustache, military or otherwise, but this time Underwood joined her.
    Isobel, passing the end of the avenue at that moment, was surprised to see her rather shy little governess and the vicar’s brother enjoying each other’s company so much.  She hoped, mostly for Miss Chapell’s sake, that Charlotte would not come to hear of it.
    Oblivious, Mr. Underwood and Miss Chapell were just recovering themselves, “I told you yesterday that you are an extraordinary man, Mr. Underwood.”
    “Too kind,” he murmured, rather embarrassed by such candour, “Now, you were about to tell me about yourself.”
    Miss Chapell bent to retrieve her book, which had fallen from her lap, “I’m afraid it is a very dull story.  My father was a clergyman, who died ten months ago.  My mother has been dead since I was quite small, so about eight months ago I had to find some sort of employment.  Only Sir Henry was prepared to take someone so relatively young and inexperienced, so here I came.”
    Underwood did not voice the thought, but he was prepared to wager that her salary was far lower than it ought to be.  He did not believe that Sir Henry had a magnanimous bone in his body.  It also took her out of the area at the time of the murder, but he naturally did not mention this fact either.
    “I’m so sorry,” he said.  “It is particularly hard to lose someone close, especially when losing them also means the loss of your home and livelihood.  You must have had a difficult time adjusting to life as an employee.”
    For some reason she felt she could not meet his eyes and continued to stare steadfastly at the book in her hands, “I was miserable when I first came here, but I have grown used to things now.”
    In a swift and fluid movement he patted her hand comfortingly, then reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew forth his snuffbox, “I assume you do not imbibe?” he asked, proffering the box, which he had already flicked open with a casual thumbnail.
    “No, thank you.”
    “I trust you have no objection to my doing so?”  She shook her head, fascinated by the swift and expert way he handled the container.  It was the action of a dandy – and indeed he had learned the trick from an accomplished member of the dandy set, one who now set London Society aflame, but who had been a mere student in the days when Underwood had known him – but there was nothing else dandified about him.  She was glad, for she despised dandyism, feeling it to be a thoughtless indulgence of the very rich, which mocked the misery of the poor.  It was nothing less than scandalous that young men could pay fortunes to their tailors, boot makers and jewellers, whilst children starved on the streets and men and women sank to the depths of degradation through poverty and ignorance.
    Naturally she said nothing of this to him.  Such beliefs would only be regarded as subversive and hostile, and she had no idea how her companion might feel about such things.  Since her father’s death, and the subsequent loss of his protection, her own politics had inclined towards the Radical movement, especially after the massacre of the innocents a year before on St. Peter’s Field in Manchester.  She had been appalled that the wealthy and powerful men of that City had felt no compunction at turning the military loose with sabres upon the poor protesters, including women and children.  What had they done but begged for bread?  She never discussed her feelings, for two reasons.  Charlotte and her sisters would have less interest in the subject than they had in learning French, drawing and music – they were not an academically gifted family; and Sir Henry would bear no Radical to live beneath his roof.  Miss Chapell might