“Very well.” I cleared my throat. “Of course I’m willing to try. But don’t have your hopes too high.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why do you doubt yourself? You’re a barrister. You must be quite intelligent. Surely you’re capable of more than you think.”
Though spoken lightly, her words struck my heartstrings. No one had ever had such high expectations of me. No matter how hard I tried, I had never done anything right in the eyes of my parents. All I had ever done as a child was take blame quietly in the hopes of winning the favor of the one person who still seemed to need me. Miles.
I knew how Anne felt. Miles could make anyone feel wanted and needed, even loved in order to obtain his purposes. Anne’s eyes gleamed with kindness in the candlelight, and I saw my own reflection in her dark irises. How deeply would her heart break when Miles returned to discover that she had no money to offer? If he had written to her with his intentions to court her upon his return, it was only because he was under the impression that her widowhood had brought her wealth of some kind from the late baron. He might have genuinely cared for her, but love or fondness was never enough for a man like Miles.
He thrived on strategy, logic, and greed.
All it took was one look at Anne’s disposition to know that she thrived on the opposite—trust, empathy, and love. She was strong, but with a fragile heart. A fiercely loyal one.
I pushed aside my thoughts and the sudden emotions in my throat. “Well, then. Are you going to read me the clue?”
Anne shook her head, dark curls bouncing. “Not now. I don’t want anyone else to see or hear it.”
“Tomorrow?”
She pressed her lips together with a nod. “Before breakfast.”
“In the space between the doors?” I asked with a grin.
“No.” She shot me a subtle glare under her lashes. “We already know Lady Tottenham meets with the man with the spectacles in the drawing room in the early mornings. Hopefully Lord Kirkham won’t be lurking in the corridors in search of me now that he sees the attachment between us. Shall we meet in the study on the second floor?”
I nodded. “Is there a specific time you have in mind?”
“I’ll knock twice on your door in the morning,” she said in a whisper. “Then you may follow me out.”
I threw her a curious look. “Is a shirt required?”
She cast her gaze upward toward the chandelier. Her lips fought against a smile, the corners of her eyes twitching. “Yes,anda bicorn hat.”
“That can be arranged.”
All the guests filtered out of the drawing room into the dining room for dinner. The long table was set as usual, but when everyone took their seats, I noticed three empty chairs. Lady Tottenham had assigned Anne and me two chairs beside each other, so I leaned toward her. “Did you notice…”
“The empty chairs.” She glanced around the room. “Mrs. Fitzgibbon, Miss Rowley, and Miss Morton…”
I frowned. “Where could they be?”
The first course, a creamy orange soup of some sort, was brought to the table. Lady Tottenham raised her spoon, taking a delicate slurp.
“Is Mrs. Fitzgibbon unwell?” I asked in a casual voice. “I noticed she and her cousins are not at the table this evening.”
Anne and I must have not been the only ones who were curious. All conversations fell silent in wait of Lady Tottenham’s answer.
“Mrs. Fitzgibbon, Miss Rowley, and Miss Morton will not be here for the remainder of the house party.” Lady Tottenham took a sip from her goblet.
Octavia and Victoria exchanged a glance. Mr. Amesbury dropped his spoon on the white tablecloth. He scrambled to pick it up, but not before it left a yellow stain.
I heard Anne’s sharp intake of breath from beside me. I had never considered that Lady Tottenham might be serious about sending people home. It seemed to be a threat that she gave for dramatic effect, or to make her party more theatrical. I never thought she meant it. Allthreewomen could have broken a rule, but it was more likely that only one of them did, making it impossible for the others to stay. The two young women required a chaperone, so if one of them was sent home, all three would be.
My curiosity couldn’t be helped. “What rule was broken?”
Lady Tottenham’s stern features were shadowed by the sconces on the wall beside her. “They did not break a rule. Mrs. Fitzgibbon took offense to my game of cricket, and decided to leave Birch House. Her sensibilities are too delicate, I suppose. I am vexed only because she took two of our finest young ladies with her. There are now less women at Birch house than there are men.”
Most of the men here didn’t seem overly competitive—besides Lord Kirkham. Mr. Amesbury seemed slightly disappointed with the loss of Miss Morton, but Mr. St. Vincent looked relieved. He smiled as he stirred his soup. Mr. Barnwall had obviously been intended for Mrs. Fitzgibbon, but his expression was difficult to read. He was stoic as always. Finding a mother for his six children would have to wait, and he would surely pass the time with his many other pursuits. Mrs. Fitzgibbon must not have been interested—perhaps she had even left in order to avoid him.
Lady Tottenham’s gaze settled on Anne and me. “I am pleased to see at least some of my guests are forming attachments.” She shot a glance toward Mrs. Pike and Mr. Lymington as well.
