Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (13 page)

“I brought the
smelling salts,” Ariadne told her, pulling the bottle from the pocket of her
gown. “Just in case.”

“Goodness,” Hannah
said, sinking back into the armchair she had been using. “Are you giving me the
sack?”

“Are we allowed to
fire her?” Daphne demanded of her friends.

“I certainly
wouldn’t want to,” Ariadne replied loyally.

Priscilla smirked.
“I daresay his lordship would be furious.”

“Oh, you’re scaring
her out of her wits,” Lady Emily complained. “Let me.”

Hannah braced for
the worst.

“Miss Alexander,”
Lady Emily proclaimed, staring her in the eye, “we think someone is trying to
kill Lord Brentfield.”

Hannah felt as if
the ground were shifting beneath her. She must have paled, for Ariadne
hurriedly thrust the smelling salts at her. Hannah waved the noxious smell
away. “I know there have been accidents, of course,” she acknowledged. “But
murder?”

Daphne nodded
vigorously. “I didn’t want to believe it either, Miss Alexander, but Lady Emily
can be most convincing. Tell her.”

Lady Emily drew
herself up to her full height, which was only an inch higher than Hannah’s. “It
started with the poisoning. What did Ariadne eat that the rest of us didn’t?”

Hannah raised her
eyebrows. “
Did
Ariadne eat something we did not?”

Ariadne hung her
head. “The strawberry tarts. I know Lady Brentfield advised me against them,
but they looked so luscious. I only nibbled on one, then took it and another up
to my room for later.”

“Perhaps they were
spoiled,” Hannah reasoned.

Ariadne shook her
head. “The little I ate was quite fresh, I assure you.”

“Quite fresh and
quite deadly,” Lady Emily intoned. “And meant for his lordship. They were his
favorites, remember?”

Hannah nodded,
remembering.

“Then came the
bookcase,” her charge continued, hands clasped behind her. “The one case that
contained his lordship’s personal favorites, a case he used often, we are
told.”

“Only I used it
first,” Daphne admitted.

“Exactly!” cried
Lady Emily. “We inadvertently foiled the murderer again. Now, today, this fire,
smoldering out of sight no doubt, right next to the library where his lordship
would be working, where he might have been overcome by the smoke, choking,
gasping, suffocating . . .”

“Please!” Hannah
stopped her, her artist’s imagination conjuring a picture that was more than
she could bear. Ariadne obligingly offered the smelling salts again. Hannah
shook her head.

“I told you she was
convincing,” Daphne bragged.

“But why?” Hannah
cried. “And who? Who could possibly want Lord Brentfield dead?”

Lady Emily stood
glaring at her for a moment more, then deflated. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“It gets rather fuzzy from here.”

“None of us could
think of a likely villain,” Ariadne explained.

Hannah shook her
head again. The tale seemed too far-fetched, a perfect melodrama for Lady
Emily. The accidents were coincidental, but surely not homicidal.

“I appreciate your
insights, girls,” she assured them, “but I cannot credit that we have a
murderer in our midst. Perhaps if this visit hadn’t been so
tempestuous--excitement one moment and boredom the next, you might see things
from a different perspective.”

Ariadne and Daphne
looked thoughtful. Priscilla looked troubled.

Lady Emily threw up
her hands. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. You wait and see, Miss Alexander.
If I’m right, there’ll be another attempt on Lord Brentfield’s life tomorrow,
and if we’re not careful, this time it will be successful!”

As Asheram and David finished helping the servants put the
damaged rooms to rights, they were having a similar conversation.

“Now do you see the truth of it?” Asheram demanded as they
walked back toward the east wing. “Poisoning, crushing, burning. You’re in
danger.”

David shook his head, feeling not a little weary from the
day’s exertions. He had hoped to spend the morning breaking open and examining
the secret room, but Asheram had cornered him with questions regarding the
estate. Feeling guilty for letting the older man handle so many of his affairs,
affairs that only the earl should be forced to deal with, David had submitted
to a lengthy discussion in the library. He was glad that the smell of smoke had
alerted them to the fire before the flames could do too much damage. As it was,
the restoration would take most of the day. The hidden room with all its
secrets would simply have to wait. At the moment, all he wanted was a hot bath,
dinner, and a moment alone with Hannah. He knew he would be lucky if he got the
first two.

“I’ll admit that these mishaps cut into my time to work on
the estate,” he conceded to Asheram, “but if you look beyond that, I’d say I’ve
been lucky. My favorite suit needs cleaning, and I burned my hand putting out
the fire, but I didn’t get sick, I wasn’t seriously hurt by the bookcase
falling, and nothing of any importance was destroyed. We should celebrate our
good fortune.”

“And hold your funeral tomorrow,” Asheram grumbled. “At
least let me post a footman outside your door.”

“What good would that do?” David countered, stretching stiff
muscles. “No one has tried to smother me in my sleep so far. And don’t suggest
I need a bodyguard or someone to taste my food. We’re not talking about passing
along the crown here. There isn’t any heir but me.”

“Do we know that?” his friend challenged as they reached the
door to David’s room. “What if someone else stands to gain? What if another
Tenant descendant is lurking about the estate?”

“He has only to step forward, and I’ll give it to him,”
David replied, trying not to be cheered by the unlikely idea.

“But he won’t know that. Perhaps he feels slighted that you
had a better claim on the inheritance.”

“You should write melodramas,” David said, pushing open the
door. “Next you’ll tell me this phantom long-lost cousin is hiding in the
secret passageways.”

“Well?” Asheram demanded, following him in to the room. “How
do you know he isn’t?”

Thinking of the locked door he had yet to open, David
frowned. “I suppose it’s possible, but not very likely. Still, perhaps we
should take a few precautions.”

Asheram smiled in triumph. David had a sudden vision of
being followed everywhere by a phalanx of armed footmen. He’d never have
another moment alone with Hannah.

“A
few
precautions,” he repeated sternly. “I don’t
want our guests frightened.”

“The first precaution,” Asheram replied with equal severity,
“should be to send our guests home.”

“No,” David told him. He strode to the wardrobe and began pulling
off his soiled clothes.

He could feel Asheram frowning at him. “You’re going to
propose to her, aren’t you?” he accused David.

David turned to grin at his friend. “I already did. She’s a
fine woman, Ash. I’d be proud to have her at my side.”

“Spoken like a Boston leather carver,” Asheram argued. “Like
it or not, you have to think like an earl.”

He was tired enough that the refrain hit a nerve. “If you
ask me, I’m thinking exactly like an earl. The aristocrats of my acquaintance
are relentlessly self-centered and selfish. I’ll marry whom I please.”

Asheram shook his head. “Very well. But what precautions are
you willing to take that you’ll live long enough to see your wedding day?”

“Seal all entrances to the passageways we know about, except
the ones in my and Hannah’s rooms.”

“Of course,” Asheram drawled.

David ignored the sarcasm. “Put the footmen to work as soon
as they’ve recovered from today’s excitement. We don’t get many visitors out
here, so we hardly need those strapping fellows at the front door. I want a
constant patrol through the house, day and night.”

“Very good,” Asheram agreed with a nod. “And I’ll alert the
household staff to watch for anything unusual. Thank you, my lord. You’ve set
my mind at ease.”

David grinned at him again before returning to his changing.
“With any luck, Ash, we’ll both live to see my wedding day.”

*

David was not as certain he’d have a wedding day any time
soon after that evening. The conversation in the upstairs sitting room was
desultory at best. Though it was a large room, the small, infrequent windows
and crowded furniture made it feel cramped. Lady Brentfield was sullen; he
supposed it was because of all the accidents spoiling her visit with her niece.
Priscilla was distant, and Lady Emily regarded him so fixedly that he wondered
whether he’d grown a third eye. Ariadne and Daphne could not maintain a
conversation for long, and the frequent silence had become too lengthy to
ignore.

Worst of all was Hannah’s behavior. She was solicitous
toward everyone but refused to acknowledge any of his teasing remarks. Indeed,
whenever he so much as included her in the conversation, she would pale and
look away. Most of the night she did not even meet his eye. He was at a loss to
explain her behavior until he asked about their visit to the village and was
told about their reception by Reverend Wellfordhouse.

“He was quite charming,” Ariadne enthused. “I’m sure he’s a
wonderful minister.”

David had immediately liked the fellow when he had met the
vicar on his first tour of the area. The fact that they both tended to take a
stroll to clear their minds had made William Wellfordhouse even more welcome.
In conversation, he had found the vicar intelligent, well-spoken, and honest.

“I’ve always enjoyed the good reverend’s company,” he told
his guests. “I’m sure he equally enjoyed the company of such lovely young
ladies.”

Ariadne blushed, Daphne beamed, and Priscilla preened.

“Well, if you ask me,” Lady Emily put in, “he took the most
interest in Miss Alexander. He went on and on about her painting. It was no
wonder she was put to the blush.”

“Isn’t it entertaining how Miss Alexander manages to attract
all the attention?” Lady Brentfield mused, sounding anything but entertained.

Hannah looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.

So, William had had the audacity to flirt with her, had he?
Why hadn’t David noticed how utterly lacking the man was in the social graces?
He could not imagine what Hannah could see in him. William’s eyes were entirely
too close together, giving him a dishonest look. And what kind of minister let
himself to be distracted from his duties by a wealthy parishioner and four
girls? David went to bed thinking that he should speak to Squire Pentercast who
held the patent for Mr. Wellfordhouse’s living. Perhaps it was time they had a
new minister in Wenwood. He was so furious he didn’t even think to try the
hidden room.

The next morning he wanted to shake himself for his unkind
attitude. It was jealousy, plain and simple. William Wellfordhouse was a good
man, and David supposed he would even be considered handsome by the ladies.
Certainly the unmarried young women of the parish thought so. Their antics
after services each Sunday had been amusing as they vied for his attentions.
David could see that the soft-spoken country vicar would be far more compatible
to the gentle Hannah than the earl of a vast estate. She had said she didn’t
think she could be a countess. But the thought that Hannah might prefer the
vicar’s attentions to his own made him greener than the spring grass.

He was still struggling with himself as he walked to the
breakfast room to join his guests. He found all the girls up, although Lady
Brentfield had not appeared. Hannah slouched at the far end of the table, pale
and strained. If that was a woman smitten, she’d be dead before her nuptials.
Something was bothering her, and he did not think it was William Wellfordhouse.
That it might be himself both reassured and troubled him. He had no opportunity
to question or comfort her, however, for the girls set at him immediately.

“Will you spend the day with us, my lord?” Priscilla begged.
“We’ve seen so little of you.”

Ariadne sighed. “The days are getting tiresome. It is enough
to give one the megrims.”

“I for one could use some exercise,” Daphne put in.

“What has Lady Brentfield planned for you?” David asked,
hoping the event would give him a chance for a moment alone with Hannah.

Lady Emily humphed. “Nothing.”

Hannah roused herself. “Lady Brentfield has not yet told us
of her plans.”

“She probably won’t be up for hours,” Priscilla complained.

Ariadne, Daphne, and Lady Emily returned their gazes
expectantly to his. He stared blankly back at them. Then inspiration struck.

“Why don’t you all go for a ride?” he asked.

As Ariadne, Daphne, and Priscilla perked up, Hannah slunk
lower in her chair. David winked at her to assure her he meant her to stay home
with him as before.

Lady Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Will you be joining us this
time, my lord?”

So, she obviously remembered how he had sent them off last time.
He felt not the least guilty. “Sorry, Lady Emily,” he explained. “I never
learned to ride.”

They were all properly shocked by his confession, except
Hannah, who nodded in understanding.

“But you must learn,” Priscilla told him. “All gentlemen
ride. And you will be expected to lead the hunt.”

“I have no interest in learning to hunt fox or anything
else,” David replied kindly, but he hoped firmly. “I’ll be happy to see you off
this morning, if you like, but I won’t get on a horse. My own two legs serve to
take me as far as I need to go.”

His strength of purpose was apparently enough to deter
further requests. They turned their attentions elsewhere.

“But you’ll come with us, won’t you, Miss Alexander?”
Ariadne pleaded.

Hannah looked even less pleased by the idea than he had
felt. “I know I should as your chaperone, girls, but I never learned to ride
either.”

“I simply do not know what the world is coming to,”
Priscilla complained with a shake of her tousled curls. “An earl who doesn’t
ride? A woman who teaches impressionable young ladies and doesn’t ride?”

“I don’t teach riding,” Hannah replied with some asperity.

“I have it!” Daphne cried, sitting straighter. “We’ll teach
them both!”

Now Hannah looked downright dismayed, and David knew exactly
how she was feeling. The other girls chimed in with their enthusiastic
endorsement of the plan. Before David could think of a graceful way out, Lady
Brentfield wandered in. A quick glance at her showed him that she looked even
more tired than Hannah, but she wasn’t bothering to try to be pleasant.

“Lower your voices at once,” she demanded, sinking onto the
nearest chair. “You woke me from a sound sleep with all your clatter.”

Ariadne and Daphne paled, exchanging glances. Lady Emily
stiffened, mouth tightening. Hannah closed her eyes as if against a pounding
headache.

Priscilla bit her lip. “Sorry, Aunt,” she murmured.

“What are you nattering on about anyway?” Lady Brentfield
grumbled, glaring at the footman while he hastily brought her chocolate and
cinnamon bread.

“Daphne conceived of a plot to teach Lord Brentfield and
Miss Alexander to ride,” Ariadne volunteered with a smile of pride at her
sister, who blushed.

David waited for the explosion. Lady Brentfield found his
refusal to ride more galling than nearly any of his other plebeian habits. She
would surely not forgo an opportunity to complain, especially in her current
mood. He saw Hannah grimace and knew she expected it too. Lady Brentfield
looked from one girl to the next. Her face broke into a beatific smile.

“Why, what a delightful idea! I’m surprised I didn’t think
of it myself. Hurry with your breakfast, girls. We shall start this very
morning.”

David stared at her, feeling the noose tighten. Hannah
gasped as if she couldn’t breathe.

“Your ladyship, I hate to be the one to stop an amusement,”
he started.

“Then don’t,” she finished airily. “You know you must learn,
and you could not ask for more congenial teachers. Priscilla was practically
born on horseback.”

He ignored the vision her words conjured. “I’m sorry,
ladies, but I must refuse. I would be a poor pupil. I don’t even like horses.”

“Surely you wouldn’t disappoint your guests,” Lady
Brentfield pressed, making the act sound as bad as if he had stolen their
virtue. The girls gazed at him imploringly.

“Yes, I would,” he answered firmly. “I don’t ride. I won’t
ride. Very likely I’ll never ride. Thank you for your concern, ladies, but I
must say no.”

Their faces fell, but he refused to worry. He could not fall
into the trap of trying to meet anyone’s expectations but his own.

Hannah was not so lucky.

“But we could still teach Miss Alexander,” Daphne ventured.
Her friends brightened. Lady Brentfield picked up her toast and examined it
thoroughly.

“Yes, I suppose we could,” she mused. “It won’t be nearly as
entertaining, but some good might come of it.” She smiled a rather waspish
smile at Hannah. “And you cannot cry off.”

Hannah swallowed. “It’s very kind of the girls to offer to
teach me,” she allowed, “but I have as much interest in learning as Lord
Brentfield. It is not a skill I need.”

“One never can tell,” Lady Brentfield replied darkly,
rising. “It is decided then. Go change into your riding habits, girls.”

“I don’t even have a habit,” Hannah protested, standing as
well even as the color blossomed in her cheeks. Her fingers clenched the
tablecloth. David stood too, intending to put a stop to what was obviously
distressing her.