“Perhaps it would be best for us to cut our visit short and return to our respective homes,” Rockwell said, “You—”
“No.” James looked at them each in turn. “In spite of all that has happened, I appreciate the company. Your presence here will help me through this.” He swallowed past the knot in his throat before adding, “The thought of your leaving and of how empty the house will feel once you do is unbearable.”
But it was more than that. As much as he trusted these men, Tatiana’s killer had yet to be found, and until that happened, he would do what he could to stop those who’d been present at the time of her murder from leaving the estate. The events of the previous evening had yet to be discussed in detail, the most mundane piece of information turned over and analyzed. Perhaps Harrington or Rockwell had heard something or seen something that neither man considered important right now but that might prove vital in solving the crime. And if that were the case, James would discover it, which meant keeping everyone close and asking the right kind of questions.
He decided to start immediately by turning to Harrington. “Did Tatiana seem happy to you since your arrival?” When Harrington quietly nodded, James asked, “Did she ever mention a falling out to you? Either with a member of the staff or a friend or someone from the village or—”
“No.” Harrington’s response was adamant. “She appeared to be in good spirits, excited to make our engagement official at the Hartford ball next month. All she talked about was the gown she was having made and how excited she was for me to see her in it.”
“She held you in high regard,” James murmured.
“As I held her,” Harrington said. “You must not doubt that.”
James nodded quietly. “Of course.” He eyed Rockwell. “I don’t suppose she said anything more significant to you?”
Rockwell snorted. “Our conversations were fleeting and mostly reduced to polite greetings. Her attention was entirely fixed on Harrington. You were lucky to win her, you know. She would have been a devoted wife.”
“I do not doubt it.” The comment was spoken with only a hint of regret on Harrington’s part.
James stood and went to the window. These men were like brothers to him, but when it came to women, both were cold and unfeeling. He should have considered this more seriously before agreeing to let either one of them court his sister. But the match would have been a good one – a socially acceptable one – and Tatiana had been swept away in the fairytale while their mother eagerly encouraged it.
“You might consider questioning that footman of yours, though.”
James turned to stare at Rockwell. “Which footman?”
“The one you hired since my last visit. I forget his name. Something with a G, I believe.”
“Goodard?” James thought of the pleasant young man whom the butler continuously praised for his hard work and dedication.
“I saw him speaking with Lady Tatiana in private a couple of times. When they noticed me, they quickly ended the conversation and he swiftly left.” Rockwell shrugged. “Just something that comes to mind now, since it did seem a touch odd.”
“Thank you, Rockwell.” James gave him a grateful nod. “I will certainly look into it.”
“On a different note,” Harrington said a short while later, “we could not help but notice that you have hired the very woman you initially accused of committing the crime.”
“A decidedly unwise decision, if you ask me,” Rockwell said.
“I agree,” Harrington said. “You know nothing about her!”
James knew they had a valid point, but he felt himself get defensive, nonetheless. “Miss Edwards could not have killed Betsy since that would have required carrying her, and she lacks the strength for such a task. Not to mention that she is shorter than Tatiana was. Holding a knife to her throat and successfully slitting it seems impossible now that I have had time to think it over.”
“And time to notice how fetching Miss Edwards actually is,” Rockwell murmured, emphasizing James’s unusual choice of address.
James bristled. “What?”
Harrington inclined his head. “You have to admit she is a stunning woman, Camden. Are you sure you are not just ignoring the facts and making excuses for her in order to make her more…available to you?”
“Of course not!” The notion that his friends might suspect such a thing, and the growing awareness of it being truer than he even dared admit to himself, disgusted him. He turned back to the window and stared out at the scenery beyond. “Now, if you do not mind, I rather think I would like to get back to the paper I was reading.”
A moment of silence followed before the sound of chairs being moved and the hushed tread of footsteps upon the carpet could be heard. Rockwell said something else in parting – something about looking forward to seeing James for dinner – before the door clicked into place and the room turned into a tomb devoid of all sound.
James stayed by the window, admiring a flock of birds flying in formation. The wind tugged gently at the youngest trees next to the driveway and ruffled the top of the foliage. Just beyond the window, a cat sneaked across the grass as if in pursuit of a mouse.
“My lord?”
Startled, James spun toward the voice and stilled at the sight of Miss Edwards standing a few paces away. She looked delectable with her flushed cheeks and a few stray strands of hair falling against her face. It was hard not to stare, but he made a deliberate effort not to by crossing to the table where his glass still stood and picking it up for a refill.
“Yes, Miss Edwards?” He poured the brandy slowly, focusing on the amber liquid so as not to lose himself in the fullness of her lips or the damnably enticing way the maid’s attire hugged her shapely figure.
“I…I know it’s not my place to seek you out and address you, but…”
Hearing the hesitance in her voice, James turned to face her and immediately noted the look of concern in her eyes. Disturbed by it, he set his glass aside and went toward her. “What is it?” he gently asked.
“Well…” Another hesitation tempted him to shake her until the words spilled out of her mouth. He held himself in check instead and waited with growing impatience until she finally said, “I found this between the pages of a book in your sister’s bedchamber. Mrs. Fontaine said to clean the grate and not to touch anything else, but I spotted a rare collection of poems the likes of which I’ve never seen before, just sitting there on the dresser, and I couldn’t resist and…and…I’m so sorry.” She shoved a piece of paper toward him.
James stared down at it and at the hand that held it while struggling to overcome the disappointment that threatened to swamp him. “You went through her things.” He could not stand the idea, the utter betrayal of trust or his own poor judgment of character. “I thought you were better than that.”
Her hand dropped so all he could see was the carpet on which they stood and the swirls of creamy tones accented by reds.
“I did not have to come to you,” she said, sounding hurt. “I could have pretended not to have found this and simply go on with you none the wiser. Instead, I chose to risk disapproval and your condemnation because I believe this might be important.” She turned to go. “I’m sorry I bothered. It won’t happen again.”
Before he could think, his hand had reached out and grabbed her by the upper arm. She gasped and he swiftly pulled her back round to face him, so close their faces were mere inches apart. So close he could smell the fragrance that clung to her person, a sweet aroma he’d like to spend more time exploring. “Who are you that you would dare to speak to me with such brazen disregard for my position?”
She held his gaze as she stood there, rigidly refusing to back away, her arm stiff beneath his touch. “Someone who will not be cowed by any man, no matter his rank or position.” She spoke with conviction. “I’ve won my freedom and suffered the pain of it. From now on, I refuse to be anyone’s subordinate, no matter what my employment might be.”
Chris
t and all his apostles, the woman was a veritable Valkyrie, hell-bent on taking her life into her own hands and answering to no one. He stared at her. As much as his status and education ought to compel him to find such an attitude worthy of his wrath, he could not deny the provocative impact it had on him or how incredibly enticing he found it. Which was why he only loosened his hold a little, rather than letting her go completely.
“You are a rare creature, Miss Edwards.” He studied her face, watching while her eyes darkened to a deeper shade of green. Her mouth parted and his gaze dropped to the swift display of her tongue licking across that delicious fullness of her lips. “I am glad you managed to escape your fiancé, for it means you are now here instead, ready to defy me at every turn.”
Surprise widened her eyes. “You want to be defied?”
He chuckled lightly. “Perhaps. I am not yet sure. But most importantly, I want to be distracted, and you, Miss Edwards, seem more than capable of achieving that.”
“I…” A pulse beat at the side of her neck, and she suddenly looked away.
But James held on. “No. You must not do that.” He tightened his hold once more. “Look at me. Face me. Be my equal if that is what you truly desire, and give me the challenge I need.”
When she raised her gaze to his once more, her jaw was set, her eyes as hard as steel. They pierced him to his core and made him wonder a million questions about position and rank and why they all mattered when all they truly were, was a fabricated illusion created by men.
“Read this,” she said, pushing the paper against his chest, “and let me go.”
He dropped his hand immediately and took the paper from her hand. “Will it help?”
“I’ve no idea, but it will give you some insight you didn’t have before.”
“In that case, I thank you, Miss Edwards and—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand, silencing him in a manner he ought to protest. Instead he watched her take her leave while wondering why he found her so damnably attractive and what the hell he was going to do about it.
Chapter 6
Jane spent the next day deliberately avoiding Camden. Not only because the effect he had on her was inconvenient and extremely troubling, or because admitting to him she’d snooped through his sisters things had been a mortifying experience, but because she needed the time and space in which to put her own thoughts in order. So much had happened since leaving New York – more than she’d ever imagined possible – and adjusting to her change in circumstance, and considering the chance it might be permanent, left little energy for anything else besides the necessary work required of her.
“You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met,” Margaret said on the fourth morning since Jane’s arrival. She was helping Jane change the sheets in the bedroom where Lord Rockwell was staying. When they were done they would prepare the refreshments for the family and their guests to enjoy after the funeral.
Jane fluffed up a pillow. “How so?”
She liked Margaret and was grateful for all the help the other maid had offered. Especially when Jane had been so frustrated over not knowing how to use the items in her housemaid box, she’d almost dissolved into tears. It was Margaret who’d kindly shown her how to clean out the grate in the fireplace and how to build a fire correctly without Mrs. Fontaine discovering Jane’s inexperience.
Margaret shrugged. “I don’t know.” She shook out a blanket and spread it across the bed. Jane grabbed the other side of it and helped flatten it out. “You know a lot without knowing much at all. It’s odd.”
The assessment was apt and indisputable, but Jane decided to try and explain it anyway. “I just never had to do any of these things before.”
Margaret gave her a funny look and shook her head. “You must have been well off then with plenty of servants about to do it for you, which makes me wonder why on earth you’d want to lower yourself to—”
“There is nothing wrong with doing honest work, Margaret.” Jane straightened and looked across at the woman who’d quickly become her friend. “I am not better than you, and I certainly don’t consider doing what you do as lowering myself to anything. Quite the contrary. I’ve learned so much since leaving America, especially about myself and what I’m capable of.”
“Well, I hope you stay, because I like having you around. At least until you finish telling me about all the books you’ve written.” She paused for a second before asking, “You don’t suppose his lordship might have some of them in his library, do you?”
Jane almost choked in response to that question. “No,” she said on a cough. “I think that would be very unlikely.” Deciding to share her stories with Margaret had been a necessary step in maintaining her sanity. It was the only way she could think of in which to preserve a part of the person she was when everything else had to be hidden away behind lies. But her stories, set in the same period in which she found herself, were unlikely to cause a stir while still allowing her to share a true and very important aspect of herself.
“Well, it’s probably not the sort of thing he’d be interested in reading anyway. No offence, Jane, but men and romantic novels just seem like a strange combination.”
Ordinarily, Jane would agree, yet she could not forget or ignore the fact that Camden prized his autographed copy of Pride and Prejudice or that he’d actually read the book and enjoyed it. The notion confirmed he had a sensitive side Jane would not otherwise have considered based on his firm manner. But it prompted her to wonder if he’d ever been in love and if so, with whom. Disliking the thought of his heart being lost to a faceless woman, Jane snatched up a rag and proceeded to dust the furniture. She was being silly. That much was clear. Especially since there was no point whatsoever to such contemplations.
And yet, she could not stop herself from saying, “I suppose his lordship will have to marry soon though, regardless of what his romantic inclinations might be.”
“His mother has undoubtedly suggested it and will most assuredly do so with increased vigor now that he is her only surviving child. Whether or not she can convince him of the fact is a different matter entirely. Camden has always seemed like the sort of man prone to making his own decisions.”
“So then, he has not set his sights on a possible wife yet?” Jane held her breath while awaiting the answer.
“Not as far as I know, but then again, I’m not present at all the soirees and balls he attends. All I can comment on are the ladies who’ve come to visit here at Summervale, of which there have only been a couple of Lady Tatiana’ friends. And that was a long time ago when she was still a child, and they would come here with their parents for part of the summer. As an adult, I believe she saw most of her friends when staying in Town for the Season.”
“What about male acquaintances?” She pondered the paper she’d handed over to Camden. I cannot bear to be apart from you either. The years we spent together remain the most precious ones of my life.
“As you already know, she was being courted by Viscount Harrington.”
“And before that?” Jane turned to face the other maid. “Were there any other men she might have spent time with?”
Margaret placed one hand on her hip and frowned. “Lady Tatiana was a proper, respectable young lady, Jane. I’m not sure I like what you’re getting at.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…Whoever killed her deserves to be punished. Don’t you agree?”
“And asking these questions will help with that how? You’re not in any position to accuse anyone and—”
“I still can’t stop trying to figure it out.” An idea began to take shape. Jane stared at Margaret. “Did she have a tutor at some point?”
“Well yes. A lot of young ladies do. There’s nothing strange about that.”
“No there isn’t.” Returning to her dusting, Jane quietly said, “I don’t suppose you know how long he was here or how old she was when he left?”
“I don’t know. I think he stayed for about three years, mostl
y while Lord Camden was away at University. Lady Tatiana would have been roughly sixteen by the time he left.”
The perfect age and environment for a girl of that age to fall madly in love with the man she spent most of her time with. Jane wasn’t sure if it mattered, but the note did suggest that Tatiana hadn’t loved Harrington and that her heart had belonged to another.
“Are you ready, my lord?”
James held Snypes’s gaze for a moment, and it occurred to him that his manservant did not look well. Then again, neither did he. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Tatiana’s death, and the worry of having a murderer on the loose was eating his nerves. But now was not the time to inquire about Snypes’s health. So he simply nodded.
“Yes.”
He crossed the floor of his study with somber steps, not the least bit prepared to walk behind the hearse that would carry Tatiana’s body to the family graveyard.
Passing Snypes, he stepped out into the hallway where Hendricks awaited.
“Here you are, my lord.” The butler handed James his black beaver hat, which he took and placed upon his head before turning toward the front door where his mother awaited.
He hadn’t spoken to her very much since for the past couple of days. Not since she’d pestered him about doing his duty and finding a wife while people paid tribute to his sister no more than a few yards away. She’d shown no hint of the loss he felt, but rather a cold determination that had done little to win his cooperation. It had baffled him, how a mother could show so little concern over the loss of her daughter and instead push her son toward the altar with the sort of urgency that bordered on desperation.
Unwilling to speak to her now or to have to discuss the matter further, he silently offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. Together, they stepped out into the grey exterior from which the usual vibrancy of late spring seemed to have vanished. Clouds shielded the sun, their dirty-white color promising rain or at least a drizzle.
The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past Page 7