Indeed, the dog was lying down, panting.
“I was headed there myself when I spotted her.” He offered his arm, and she took it.
Very well. As long as he wasn’t going to express jealousy, she’d ignore his coolness. She was probably imagining it anyway, fearing that he’d be like Marcus. She mustn’t do that. “I went to the house,” she told him as they walked toward the edge of the park. “It seems well maintained, but apparently the fifth viscount rarely used it. He preferred a club.”
“Some do.”
“It seems wasteful. I’m not being penny-pinching, but why?”
“If he used the house, people would call and then he’d be expected to entertain, and thus he’d need a full staff. So it could be seen as economical.”
“In a very odd way. Better to have rented it out for the season. If I had a house, I’d not choose a hotel or club.” Or rooms, for that matter. His rooms were spacious and excellent, but as she’d gone through the house, she’d realized that she liked the feeling of it all being hers, with no strangers above or below. “I wonder if he had something against the place,” she said.
“Memories of his wife? He married in London, so they might have lived there together for a while, in happier times.”
“A grand love and tragedy,” Kitty said, but then she pulled a face. “That doesn’t match his portrait, does it?”
“No. Why are you fascinated by him?”
“It’s not so much him as the situation. It’s odd.” She looked at him. “You’re going to think I’m being Gothic, but is it possible that the dowager did away with Diane?”
His brows went up. “And buried her in the shrubbery?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it seems she simply disappeared. How is that possible?”
“If she had any sense, she’d have wanted to disappear. If she’d set up house in England, her husband would have had the legal right to seize her. He might have challenged her lover to a duel.”
“The man in the portrait?”
“Placid men can be pushed into drama if sufficiently embarrassed. At the least he could have sued her paramour for damages, which can be set at ruinous amounts.”
“So she went abroad.”
“Possibly her lover was from abroad. It might have been his foreignness that gave her the courage. And once in Greece, Italy, or some more remote spot, they could pretend to be married and live in peace.”
“Then I hope she’s happy.”
“You’re very forgiving of unfaithfulness.”
Kitty chose to ignore the edge to that. “Would she really not let anyone know? Not even her own family?”
“Perhaps they were estranged.”
“I wish I knew how to contact them.”
“The name is Hartley,” he said, “and they reside near Chipping Ongar in Essex.”
“I didn’t know that!”
“I didn’t know you were curious. Worseley gave me that information shortly before we left.”
“I could write to them. Or visit. Essex is close by.”
“Do you not have enough to do?”
Without gathering gentlemen in the park.Kitty was tempted to pull the simmering issue to the front and let it boil, but she made herself be sensible. “I’ll not neglect my duties,” she said, “but the puzzle intrigues me, and Isabella might like to know.”
“How much does a six-year-old remember? She’s probably been raised to hate her.”
