Chapter ThreeAs the phaeton disappeared round the square, Jemima walked into the hall and as she did so the Viscount’s valet, Hawkins, came running from under the stairs.
He was a short, wiry little man with the obvious stamp of a soldier about him, who had been the Viscount’s batman ever since he had joined the Regiment and had retired with him into civilian life.
“Has his Lordship left?” he asked Jemima breathlessly.
“Yes, he and Mr. Hinlip have gone to a mill on Wimbledon Common,” Jemima replied.
She knew who Hawkins was because she had noticed him last night when Mrs. Kingston was escorting her upstairs to her bedroom with bad grace.
Hawkins muttered something under his breath and Jemima asked,
“Is anything wrong?”
“Yes, indeed, my Lady,” the valet replied, “and I’m not sure wha
