“Were your mother and Emmaline Reid close in age to the viscount’s second wife, then?” Leo asked. It might have been an ill-mannered question but considering how the Cowper and Stroud families had behaved thus far, Leo wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.
Nadia chuckled. “The very same age. Lucy was their friend, if you can believe it. Imagine! Having to call your once bosom friend ‘Mama!’”
Helen chastened her giggling sister with a piercing glare. She then attempted to maintain her poise as she explained further toLeo, “Lucy gave our grandfather his heir, Frederick. Sadly, she passed shortly afterward. Freddie has been more like a cousin or older brother to my sister and me than an uncle.”
Leo had known that the viscount was a widower, though she had not known it was twice over.
“And your father?” Leo inquired, curious about Mr. Stroud. “He has passed as well?”
Helen’s prim mouth turned downward. “Many years ago.”
On the settee, Nadia began to appear weary again, her index finger twirling a curl of her dark hair languidly as she stared into the fire. Just as Leo began to hope she would grow bored enough to leave the room, they were joined by a middle-aged woman, dressed in the utilitarian garb of a maid.
“Madam, I’ve been sent to tell you that Mr. Dalton is leaving for Field’s End Hall.”
Helen started in her chair. “He is going home in this weather?” Outside, the rain was still falling heavily, but the winds had died down somewhat.
“Is it very far?” Leo asked.
“No, I suppose not,” Helen replied, rubbing her temple.
A commotion burst into the sitting room in the shape of the two startlingly tall and lanky wolfhounds. They ran past the maid, who yelped and jumped with more alarm than was necessary, and converged on Nadia. One leapt onto the settee and tried to lick her cheek, while the other sat directly on her feet.
“Oh, those beasts!” the maid cried.
“Dora, I don’t know why you mind them so. Porthos and Aramis have utterly ignored you since the little nip on your hand,” Nadia said as she lovingly scrubbed their wiry gray fur.
Helen stood up. “It was more than a nip. And you know my maid was attacked by a dog as a child,” she hissed, her firmhold on her temper cracking. “You should be more thoughtful, Nadia.”
“She has had ample time to get over her fear of dogs,” her sister muttered.
Helen started forward, intending to quit the room and perhaps even the house, if she chose to follow her husband. Given no choice, Leo stood up.
“Mrs. Dalton, Inspector Reid and I would like a private audience with you before we leave tomorrow. Perhaps you will join us for breakfast? In my sitting room?”
It was inelegantly done, she knew, but it had the effect she’d wanted. Helen stood immobile near her maid, staring at Leo with curiosity. Slowly, she gave a nod.
“Of course. I will see you at, say… eight o’clock?”
“Thank you,” Leo replied. Then, blinking as if a bit stunned, Helen continued toward the door. Her maid, Dora, gave Leo a quick, head-to-toe glance before trailing her mistress out of the sitting room.
“Does thisprivate interviewhave to do with the letter my mother gave you?” Nadia asked with frank interest.
“I am certain you will find out in time, Miss Stroud.”
Leo decided it was time for bed, and she’d never been more ready to retire for the evening. She bid Nadia a good night and left the room. In the entrance hall, candles and lamps showed the way to and up the main staircase, but as she turned to the right on the landing above, the corridor leading toward her guest room was much darker, with only a few pockets of candlelight along the way.
She felt a shift in the air and then heard a rustle of clothing behind her. Leo whipped around, aware she wasn’t alone. Jasper emerged from a shadowed corner, hands in his pockets, his chin tucked. The dark gleam of his eyes cut through the dusky lighting as he said quietly, “Your room, or mine?”
Chapter Four
The sitting room had been prepared for Leo’s return, with lamps lit and a wood-burning fire crackling within the small, tiled hearth. As Leo closed the door behind them with a softsnick, Jasper had a moment’s doubt that this had been the right choice. The doubt wasn’t strong enough for him to retreat, however. He’d needed to speak to her alone, especially after their disastrous dinner, and it would have been just as unsuitable for her to have joined him in his guest room.
It was possible a maid might return to see if Leo needed anything else before taking her leave for the evening, but with the collapse of all civility within the manor so far, the impropriety of his being in an unmarried woman’s guest room would not be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Helen has agreed to meet us for breakfast tomorrow at eight o’clock,” Leo informed him as she reached one of the chairs set before the fireplace. She didn’t sit but stood behind the chair, resting her hands on the back of it. “She’s quite nervous, I think, and I’m not sure if it’s all due to her husband’s ill-mannered behavior.”
Jasper’s first impression of Anthony Dalton earlier that day had only been cemented during dinner. It seemed everyone at the table, including his own wife, disliked him, but there had been a distinctly different strain of hostility between him and Cowper’s heir, Frederick.
