Nothing, for several minutes.Then a knock heralded a waft of the stables and a person who looked like a groom but carried a large jug of steaming water.At least Lady Temperley had not taken all the stable staff to London with her.
“Morning, my lord.Will you be wanting a bath or just the jug of warm water?”
“The jug will do.”Piers would let his guests have the joy of bathing first and hopefully he and April could manage it before dinner.
Half an hour later, washed, shaved and dressed, he felt slightly less fuzzy round the edges, and went in search of his wife.
The rest of the house still seemed to be quiet, although two maids were busy setting the table in a small breakfast parlour on the ground floor.From there, French doors opened onto a pleasant terrace and garden.
“Good morning,” Piers said, sauntering into the room.
The maids, who seemed to be studiously ignoring each other, immediately curtsied and replied, “Good morning, my lord,” in perfect unison.
“Breakfast won’t be ready for another half hour, sir,” the larger girl said anxiously.“Her ladyship said that was fine.”
“Then it is,” Piers assured her, strolling through the room and out through the French doors.He was right.April walked along the path toward him from the end of the house.
It was odd how he always knew her right away.He always had, even while members of his own family looked like strangers.The old familiarity with his friends would help now, though he hoped he would not muddle the female guests.Another reason to regret his fuzzy head.
“Good morning,” April said, raising her face to be kissed.
He obliged with pleasure.She smelled as fresh as a daisy.“I apologize for my piggery.I hope I was not too obnoxious.”
“Oh, you were a perfect gentleman, for a pig.”
“How encouraging.”He pulled down one eyebrow.“What are you about, April?”
“Oh, just reconnaissance.There were strange noises in the house last night.”
“I have already apologized.”
She nudged him with her elbow.“Not you.Nor any of our guests.After you had all gone to bed, I heard voices and moaning.Edward—the footman—says there are ghosts in the house.”
“When did he tell you that?”
“When I encountered him on the attic stairs last night.I think he was in the maids’ quarters.”
“Is that why the maids are not speaking to each other?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.The man is trouble.”
“Then I wish you would not wander the corridors alone at night.Admittedly,” he added before she could, “I was not in a fit state to accompany you, but—”
“Well, you could make up for it now,” she said.“There is a locked door at the end of the first floor.”She pointed toward the far end of the house from which she had just come.“Inside the house.And outside, a side door is locked, too.”
“I expect that is where the Temperleys stored the things they don’t want strangers prying around.”
“That’s what I thought,” April said.“But the attic stairs where I saw Edward are at that end of the house, too.What was he doing there?And were the noises I heard something to do with him?”
Piers regarded her.“We don’t know, but I suspect you intend to find out.”
Her smile was conspiratorial.“Do you want to explore the attics while the servants are busy?”
Movement caught his eye.“Perhaps later...”
A man was striding along the path toward them.He didn’t look like a servant, and he was both too young to be the professor and too old to be any of the others.
“We don’t know him,” April murmured.“But he looks...official.”
