Breathing a sigh of relief, Rosalind emerged from her hiding place. But as she hurried on by the study door and on to the library as she had originally planned, she caught sight of the low burning fire in the grate.
And the half-burned paper within.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she changed direction and darted inside. The letter the butler had been ordered to burn was still there, part of it having been spared from the fire. As she bent closer to get a better look, a fresh flame caught on the paper and the missive was quickly engulfed. But not before she caught a glimpse of a name.
Josephine
Who was Josephine? Why had Tristan ordered that all letters from her be burned?
And why was jealousy sitting sour in her stomach?
Furious with herself, she hurried from the room. It served her right, spying on Tristan. She was despicable.
Overwhelmed by a wave of self-disgust, she was in the front hall before she knew it. Blowing out a harsh breath, she spun about on the ball of her foot, intending to backtrack to the library, to find a book, and to hide herself away in her room so she could evade further mischief.
A knocking on the front doors, however, halted her in her tracks.
She half expected the butler to appear. He seemed to materialize at every other time he was needed, as if magicked into being. Now, however, it appeared the man was not about. She bit her lip, staring in uncertainty at the doors. Again came the knock. Shrugging, she hurried forward and pulled the heavy door open.
“Mr. Carlisle!” she exclaimed with a delighted smile. “What a pleasant surprise. Have you come to visit Lady Belham?”
Mr. Carlisle blinked at her before grinning. “Miss Merriweather, so good to see you. Are you playing at butler today?”
“It seems so.” She waved him in, closing the door behind him. “I suppose I should take your outerwear then. Your hat, sir,” she intoned in a deep, sonorous voice, holding out a hand imperiously.
He chuckled. “Ah, I see you have found your calling. For I never knew a butler with such impressive poise.” He handed over his hat and coat, which Rosalind deposited on the hall table.
“I’m afraid Lady Belham is out. Which I suppose I should have told you before taking your hat and coat,” she admitted sheepishly.
“You may have,” he agreed, “though I would have quickly told you I would be glad to visit with you if you’ve a mind to entertain me. And so we would be in the same place we are now. Assuming you would agree to sit with me awhile.”
Rosalind grinned. “That sounds absolutely lovely.”
The butler arrived and took in Mr. Carlisle without his outerwear before turning to Rosalind. “Would you like a tray brought up to the drawing room, Miss Merriweather?”
“Thank you, yes please, Danielson.”
Bowing, the butler moved off. Rosalind stared after him.
“I feel strangely like a child playing at being an adult,” she murmured.
Mr. Carlisle chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. When I first returned home and had to deal with my father’s servants, people who had known me since I was in frocks, I felt much the same.”
Rosalind started off for the stairs, Mr. Carlisle falling into step beside her with a natural ease. “And does your father continue to improve?”
“Thank God, he does,” the man said with feeling. “So much so that he wants me to spend more time at social events and the like. I begin to suspect that he feigned the whole illness in order to get me to come home and secure the family line.”
They entered the drawing room and found a cozy spot near the window to sit. “Do you really think that?” Rosalind asked.
He chuckled. “No, I don’t. I suppose it is not well done of me to even suggest it, for he was suffering greatly when I arrived.” He sobered for a moment before brightening. “But he is so improved, I have every hope he may one day return to full vigor. Now that he is well, however, I have noticed his suggestions that I marry and set up a nursery have increased. He used to mention it once a day. Now it is hourly.”
Rosalind chuckled. “And how do you feel about such things?”
“Oh, I’m all for it,” he said. “Though I would very much like to find someone to care for. I was in love once, you see, and would like to feel that again.” His expression turned appalled. “Goodness, I don’t know why I told you that.”
Rosalind gave him a gentle smile. “You can be assured, I will keep your secret. I’m quite good at it.” For a moment she was lost in thought. Her fingers found the locket at her throat, brushed over the smooth turquoise stones, before she forcibly dropped her hand back to her lap.
“Was that at one of your father’s properties in the country?” she asked.
