Dearne took a huge breath, set his shoulders back, and waited. Eventually, the door opened to reveal a youthful looking footman who scowled at them. Dearne wasn’t really surprised. Will looked like a farmer and, with his bruised face and borrowed clothes, he probably looked like some sort of vagabond masquerading as a gentleman.
“Good morning,” he said, with cheer. “I am Captain Dearne. Lord Holbrook and Lady Araminta’s brother. They are in York attending my memorial service.”
The footman’s eyebrows rose and with a snort he started closing the door. Dearne stepped forward and stopped him. “My good man, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really am Captain Dearne. Are there any staff in residence who have been employed for some time who might remember me? I don’t think I have been here in
