Something to do with someone in his household?
“Where were they going?”
Lane lifted his shoulders. “I could not say, my lord. They took the stairs, and I was so flummoxed I did not think to follow.” Lane fixed him with a firm look. “There is more to that maid than meets the eye, is there not, my lord?”
“It is a long story and one I do not wish to divulge at present, Lane.” He waved away the proffered cravat. “I need to find her.”
Lane’s crestfallen expression almost made him stop and indulge the man, however, if Chastity had discovered something, perhaps even the murderer, his plans would have to wait. Most especially if the damned woman intended to confront a murderer with only another maid as protection.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Where is she likely to be?” Chastity asked as she followed Charlotte up the servant’s staircase, toward the rear of the house.
“Mrs. Cooke will have her doing the ballroom floor today I think.” Charlotte paused, a hand to the wrought iron railing and grimaced. “I’ll be in trouble for not being here this morning.”
“Maybe I can smooth things over for you,” Chastity suggested.
“I keep forgetting you’re a real lady. Mrs. Cooke is going to die when she finds out.”
Chastity only hoped the woman did not hate her forever for her deception. Especially if she did end up in Valentine’s life for good.
“It won’t be long.” She jerked a thumb behind them. “Did you see Lane’s face? I do not think I have ever seen him so astonished.”
“Come on, we had better find Rose before she makes an escape.”
They hastened through the house toward the ballroom, cutting through the corridors and passing several servants. Some did not even seem to recognize her, but she supposed they would not be expecting to see a maid in an elegant gown anyway.
Tom emerged from the dining room and paused at the sight of them. “What’s the hurry?” he said to Charlotte. “Do not tell me Mrs. Cooke is in one of her bad...” His voice trailed off when he spied Chastity. “Here, what is going on? Chastity?”
“Not now, Tom,” Charlotte huffed. “We are off to catch a murderer!”
“Murderer?” Tom echoed as they hurried in the direction of the ballroom.
There would most definitely be some explaining to do after this. Tom did not have the quietest of mouths and could be counted upon to spread gossip within a moment’s notice.
Charlotte shoved open the heavy door to the ballroom and came to a standstill so sharply that Chastity slammed into the back of her. She took a few steps back and followed her gaze. On her hands and knees and humming a wistful tune, Rose scrubbed the parquet floor as though she had not just been crying over the murder of her lover.
“Good Lord,” Charlotte murmured. “She must be addled in the head.”
“Maybe,” Chastity murmured.
Grief could be odd, she knew that much. John never deserved her sorrow, yet she had cried over his foolish death. She could not imagine how she might feel had he died at her own hands.
“At least she has not run.”
Charlotte glanced back at her. “We should be careful.”
Chastity eyed the cloth and bucket. Rose had slender arms and a skinny frame. She hardly appeared threatening or likely to kill them with either the rag or the bucket, but her investigations had taught her to never make judgements. The only time she’d failed to stick by that rule had been with Valentine. He was not the rude, arrogant man she had thought him to be.
“Oh, there you are.” Rose eased to her feet, smoothed her hands down her apron, leaving damp streaks, and put her hands to her hips. “Mrs. Cooke was furious and threatening to dock your pay.”
Chastity stepped around Charlotte and motioned for her to take a step back. It was not as though she dealt with murderesses all the time, however, she’d certainly come across many a vengeful woman and hoped she could persuade Rose to talk.
Rose’s brows furrowed. “Chastity? Why are you dressed like that?” She blinked a few times. “How is your mother?”
Chastity shared a look with Charlotte. To imagine this woman as a murderer was a stretch indeed. She approached slowly, hands held out. “I want to speak with you about Julian.”
“Julian?” She scrunched the cloth up in a fist so tightly that her knuckles whitened. However, her expression remained serene. “What might I have to say about him?”
“Like perhaps about the fact you were lovers.”
“We were not lovers,” she said firmly. “Why would you even—?”
“And you murdered him!” added Charlotte.
Rose gasped. “I certainly did not.”
“He crossed you in love and you killed him for it.” Charlotte folded her arms. “I heard you crying over him, Rose.”
Her gaze swung between them both for several moments then her shoulders sagged. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Julian would never cross me.”
“So you were lovers?” Chastity said softly as she inched closer to the maid.
She shook her head vigorously. “Julian was too honorable for that.” She scowled. “But why would you think I murdered him? I would never do such a thing. I loved him too much.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“Well, you did keep it a secret,” Charlotte reminded her.
“Mrs. Cooke would never have condoned it. Besides, my father would not approve either. He wanted me to marry Mr. Feilding, the village parson.” She wrinkled her nose. “He is twenty years older than me, but Father thinks he can look after me.” She sighed. “If only he knew of Julian’s lineage, he would have been forced to give his approval.”
“Lineage?” Chastity repeated.
Rose pressed fingers to her lips and swung her gaze between them both. “I was never meant to speak on it. Julian told me only just before he died because he wished to propose but he needed to request permission.”
“From whom, damn it?” Charlotte demanded.
Chastity could not begrudge Charlotte her impatience. If there was some secret to Julian’s lineage, that person could very well be the murderer, and they both knew it, especially if he found out Julian had told his soon-to-be bride.
“Why, the earl of course.”
The words rang in her ears like the echo of a gunshot. They took a moment to bounce about her mind then settle and fade.
Charlotte held up a hand. “Wait...the earl is Julian’s father?”
Rose lifted a shoulder. “Julian didn’t say but they looked similar, did they not?” Her chin wobbled and she pressed a hand to it, inhaled deeply and fixed a strained smile upon her face. “My mother always said tears were a waste. Now, I really must get back to work. And so should you, Charlotte.” She gestured to Chastity. “And do not let Mrs. Cooke see you like this. She’ll hand you over to the sheriff for thievery.”
Chastity swallowed hard. It made sense. No wonder he was so interested in finding out who the killer was. Valentine could have sired him when he was in his youth. Which meant...he’d lied to her. He’d concealed his reasons. Could he have lied about other things too? Like how he felt about her? Or...
Nausea billowed in her stomach, sending a bitter taste to the back of her throat. She’d thought him so good with children but was that because they were his? Had he sired other children out of wedlock? Was he really no different than her late husband after all?
∞∞∞
Valentine caught up with Chastity in the hallway between the library and music room. Her cheeks were red as she paced toward him. He recognized the narrowing of her gaze. Whatever had just happened, she intended to argue with him. Well, let her. He could not bring himself to care. He’d happily spend the rest of his days arguing with the stubborn woman.
The main thing was, she was safe.
“Well?” he demanded. “Did you find the murderer?”
She came to a stop several feet from him, the maid just upon her heels. She opened her mouth, then closed it and blew out a heavy
breath. “You lied to me,” she said between her teeth.
Ah. He couldn’t fathom how but she’d found out about his sister. Not that it mattered—he’d intended to tell her the real reason behind his interest in Julian’s death anyway—but it didn’t surprise him she was annoyed at being kept in the dark.
No, not annoyed. Furious. He suspected she’d been less angry when he’d ruined her shoes and even then that had been quite the display. Her chest rose and fell swiftly and she perched clenched knuckles on her hips.
“I was going to tell you.”
Her brows rose. “Oh. When?”
“Today.”
“A little late, do you not think?”
“Chastity...”
“How foolish I must have looked, placing all my trust in you, talking of my husband and all the lies he spouted and all the while you were there, behaving just as he did.”
He fixed her with a firm look. “You must understand why I kept such a matter secret.”
“Now I truly understand why you hate the ton. You cannot bear their censure.”
He set his jaw. Her anger was not unanticipated, but he’d expected her to understand after what had happened with his father. “Damned right, I cannot.”
Her eyes widened. “Not even when you deserve it?”
“I do not see—”
The maid tapped Chastity’s arm. “Maybe I should leave...” she murmured, peering around the empty hallway. When Chastity didn’t respond, her glare continuing to bore a hole in him, the maid gave a hasty dip in Valentine’s direction and dashed off down the hallway.
Valentine waited until her light footsteps had retreated before squaring up to Chastity. He’d have thought of all people, she’d recognize why he desired discretion about the matter of Julian’s birth. She loved her sisters dearly. Could she not see he felt the same about his?
“Was it all a lie? The talk of no lovers, of being some sort of a recluse? Was it a ruse to lure me in?”
Lovers? He struggled to pick up the thread as she flung the words at him, bitter and sharp. “Now, wait—”
She twisted away but not before he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
“I did not want to lie to you,” he said softly.
“Yet you did.”
“I did,” he admitted. “But only on that matter.”
“What of the others?”
He let his frown deepen. Why did he have the feeling they were talking on different matters? “Others?”
“The other children.”
“What other children?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Chastity, I think we are speaking on different matters here.”
She turned to face him, her mouth drawn into a thin line. “It explains why you are so good with them.”
“I happen to like children,” he said. “I do not see what is so wrong with that. Lord knows, they are a darned sight easier to understand than adults.”
Closing the gap, she lifted her chin. “You still chose to lie to me?” She shook her head. “Even now you are discovered, you would try to twist the truth and make me doubt what I know.” She made a noise of disgust. “You are more like John than I realized.”
“Now, that’s damned unfair.” The accusation stung. To be compared to such a man hurt even his ego. He went to take her arm, but she shirked his touch. “I lied to you about one thing, Chastity.” He lifted a finger. “Julian. That is it. I had my reasons, but it seems you cannot understand them at present.”
“How do I know you have not sired hundreds of other children?” She glanced to the floor. “I cannot trust you now.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the sorrow seeming so deep he almost missed the content of her words.
“Sired?” He held up a hand. “Wait—”
Her gaze met his. “You are just like every other man and I was a fool to trust you.”
“I am nothing like your late husband,” he shot back. “And I have never sired any child, let alone one out of wedlock.”
“So now you are trying to make me doubt the truth?”
“Julian was my sister’s son.”
She blinked a few times, then shook her head. “How can I believe you? How do I know you are not like every other man? If you were willing to lie to me about Julian…”
“You know I’m not, Chastity.”
A hand to her chest, she rubbed it while biting on her bottom lip. Her breaths were audible, and he braced himself in case she went into a faint. The sudden pallor of her complexion made her look weaker than he’d ever seen her before. He damned well didn’t like it, and he hated himself for having created this situation.
“The other children...” She gestured vaguely.
That was it. He wanted this over. No more talk of Julian or him supposedly having sired other children. They were talking in circles and getting nowhere. Could they not be back to yesterday? Dancing in each other’s arms and unable to look at anyone else instead of arguing over whether or not he was a liar?
“You are being ridiculous, Chastity,” he snapped.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Her eyes widened, the paleness was replaced with bright spots of red.
“You lied to me.” She jabbed a finger hard into his chest. “There is nothing ridiculous about doubting the words of a liar.” Swiveling on her heel, she tossed a curl over her shoulder. “Do not follow me,” she ordered.
“Chastity, we need to talk about this,” he called after her.
Valentine didn’t make a move to follow, though. He watched her march down the hallway and vanish around the corridor. He’d erred. In many ways. And he deserved her fury. Now he just had to figure out how to fix this trouble he’d put himself into.
Chapter Twenty-Five
How Chastity ended up by the stables, she did not know, but she gulped down breaths of fresh air in a bid to loosen the tightness in her chest as she stumbled out of the rear door.
The word rebounded about her mind. Ridiculous.
You are being ridiculous.
She couldn’t even hear the words in Valentine’s voice anymore. No, it was John saying it. Scolding her for questioning him, mocking her for asking where he’d been, why he was lying to her or why he never treated her with an ounce of kindness.
You are being ridiculous.
Was it ridiculous to expect the man she loved to wish to share their marriage bed? To show some interest in her? To not deride her in front of others or pick apart her every flaw? He was meant to love her, yet he always treated her with utter contempt.
How could Valentine throw those same words at her so easily knowing the pain they would cause?
“Chastity?”
She jolted, lifting her head to find Tom in front of her, sitting high up in the wagon, reins in hand.
“Something the matter?” He gestured to her face.
She touched her cheek and found it damp. She eyed her fingertips and frowned. How strange. She hadn’t cried over John’s behavior in an eternity. It had seemed utterly pointless. Had Valentine been the cause of these tears?
“Can I take you home?” Tom offered softly.
She swallowed and nodded. Time to gather herself was needed. Time to think on what Valentine said. Was it true? That he had never sired a child out of wedlock?
It did not change the fact he had lied to her or spoke so senselessly when he knew he could hurt her most gravely, though. Today’s hopes had been swept out from underneath her.
Tom aided her up and flicked the reins once she was settled on the hard wooden seat beside him, guiding the wagon out of the courtyard and onto the road. The footman navigated the small vehicle through the streets with ease, so Chastity let herself lean back and concentrate on deep breaths to loosen the throbbing pain in her chest.
Perhaps she had been all wrong about Valentine and he did not love her at all. John had always said she was out of her wits. Maybe he was not wrong.
It was only when they took a turn onto a country road that Cha
stity sat up and paid attention to their journey. Hedges lined the narrow road, and the townhouses were far behind, giving way to cottages at irregular intervals. The wagon bumped its way over the ruts in the dirt with surprising speed. She gripped the side of the vehicle when they hit a deep rut and she bounced about on the seat.
“Tom, this is not the way home.” She eyed his profile and froze.
Unless Charlotte had told him about her, he would not have even known where home was but even then, there was no chance he thought it to be so far outside of Town.
Chin set, his brow remained furrowed, and tension revealed itself in his stiff shoulders and tight knuckles. He did not even appear dressed to drive, still wearing his livery. In fact, she could not think why he had even been in the wagon now. He’d never had to drive it while she had been working at the house.
“Tom?” she pressed. “Where are we going?” She twisted to eye the empty road. They were alone. “Tom!” she snapped.
He swung a brief look at her. “I didn’t mean for it to be this way.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You are rich, are you not?” He gestured to the jewels about her neck. “You’ll have to hand those over.”
“You intend to rob me?”
He shrugged.
“But, Tom, this isn’t you.” They hit another bump in the road and she flung her hands wide to grip the seat, trying to stabilize herself. “Please stop or you’ll kill us both.”
“This will do,” he announced when they came upon a small farm building used to house the tools from a nearby farm. Brick gave way to dark stained wood and a tiled roof, offering a shadowy shelter full of farming equipment. But no people.
As soon as the wagon came to a halt, Chastity scrabbled to climb down, her feet catching in the delicate lace that swept over the silk of her pale blue gown. It was the only time she missed her more practical maid’s uniform.
Once her feet hit dirt, she faced Tom. “You are not robbing me. Whatever money troubles you are having, they can be solved, I am certain of it. Maybe Valentine will write you a note. You are a loyal servant, after all...”
Temptations of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 2) Page 19