Free A Lady of Esteem by Kristi Ann Hunter Page B

blanket. He didn’t take it.
    “My name is Mr. Alexander Bates of the offices of Chandler, Bates, and Holmes. I need to speak with the personage in charge on a very important legal matter.” The man pulled himself up to his greatest height—which put him at the same height as Amelia’s nose—and made every attempt to appear as important as possible.
    “I am in charge.” Amelia clutched the blanket to her chest. Dear Lord, help them. He was going to kick them all out immediately.
    “Ah, the governess.”
    “I beg your pardon?” She had thought of becoming a governess but as of yet hadn’t even applied for any such position. Had one of her friends taken it upon themselves to find her a position?
    “The governess,” he repeated.
    “The governess?”
    The man harrumphed loudly. “For the child.”
    “The child?” What was he talking about?
    Mr. Bates looked very grim. Amelia thought about offering him the blanket again, but it didn’t appear as if he realized he was wet. Perhaps he had the wrong house.
    “While it is no nevermind to me if a person hires those who are lacking in wits, you can be sure I will relay this exchange to the heir.” He snapped a packet of papers from his greatcoat pocket and held them in front of his eyes.
    Heir? Oh no. A sinking feeling hit Amelia in the stomach. If there were an heir, then that had to mean—
    “On behalf of Chandler, Bates, and Holmes, I would like to extend heartfelt condolences for your recent loss.” The little man’s voice held no emotion as he read from the papers.
    Amelia felt her jaw slacken. He was going to call her a lackwit and then carry on delivering his message without any explanation or apology?
    The truth of her changed circumstances began to sink in. Amelia dropped into the closest chair. A soft whoosh hit her ears as the blanket fell to the floor. What was going to happen to them all now?
    “As I am sure you are aware, there was no direct heir. An extensive tracing of the family tree has located the next male relation and he has been notified of his inheritance. He has agreed to take up the wardship of one Miss Amelia Stalwood, age eleven . . .” Here Mr. Bates paused and glanced up. “Though I suppose she might be twelve now.” He looked back down at his papers. “Regardless, the care of Miss Amelia Stalwood has been taken up by the new holder of the title.
    “The heir has arranged for the child to live with his mother and stepfather at their estate in Essex until further arrangements are made. He wishes to place her with his family as soon as possible to help her deal with her grief. You and the child are to depart at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
    Amelia felt cold and pale. She never knew someone could actually feel pale. She couldn’t leave tomorrow. The ball was tomorrow. She didn’t want to leave London at all! There must be a way to delay their departure. “There is an engagement tomorrow—”
    “Your comfort matters not.” The little man frowned, the first emotion he shown since he arrived. “He wishes the child stabilized immediately. It is your job to see that she is prepared.”
    Were Amelia actually a child, she would likely appreciate the sentiment.
    But she wasn’t a child. “I am not eleven.”
    The man frowned. “I should hope not.”
    “Amelia Stalwood is not eleven. Nor is she twelve. I’m afraid your information is outdated.”
    He looked at his papers, as if he couldn’t fathom being wrong. “She is still here, isn’t she? The papers indicate she is to remain under the guardianship of Lord Stanford until she reaches the age of one and twenty.”
    She could lie. Add a few months to her age and be free. But honesty was a trait that God praised, wasn’t it? Mrs. Bummel had always thought so. Would He honor her honesty? “Yes, I still live here, and—”
    Mr. Bates continued as soon as he heard an affirmative answer. “The quarterly allowance will be adjusted accordingly for the departure of the