“Of course there are rumors,” Nelly continued, quickly amending at the end, “though I’m not one to gossip.”
When she finally finished, I spun around on the stool to face her. “What rumors?”
Her cheeks flushed, suddenly coy. “Oh nothing, Your Grace, just that… well, some of the others seem to think the manor is haunted.”
“And do you believe this, Nelly?” I replied, watching her closely.
She frowned, her eyes not quite meeting mine before she crossed the room to gather the linens from my bed to wash. “Couldn’t say, Your Grace. I’ve never personallyseena ghost in the manor, but I’ve certainly heard things.”
“I thought I heard crying last night,” I admitted quietly, the sound running through my memory. “I thought… I thought perhaps it was Elizabeth.”
Nelly stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her fingers tightened on the bedsheets for just a moment beforeshe looked away. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she murmured. “I wasn’t here when she died, but I’ve been told it was a horrible thing.”
“Yes,” I replied under my breath, my thoughts wandering. “I’m sure it was quite awful.”
As if suddenly bored with the conversation, Nelly turned toward the door. “His Grace is probably waiting for you and Mrs. Ashby will be expecting me with your wash.”
My brows furrowed at her abrupt change of subject, but I nodded slowly. “Of course.”
By the time I reached the solarium, the sun had climbed high, filtering through the curved glass walls in fractured beams that dappled the marble floor with light. A lush perfume of jasmine and damp earth hung in the air, wrapping softly around me as I entered.
Sylum was already there, standing near one of the tall windows, a book in hand. He looked up and something soft unfurled in his expression as our eyes met.
“Lucy,” he said, his soft smile sending warmth through me. “You’re awake.”
“So it seems,” I replied lightly, taking a step closer. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“You needed it,” he murmured simply, closing the book. “You were pale last night. I should never have kept you so long at supper.”
He came forward, pulling out a chair for me at the small round table set for two. The sunlight fell across him, catching in his hair, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Therewas something disarming about him in daylight. Something soft beneath the stern composure.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as I sat. “The staff seems to think you haven’t eaten in a week.”
He gestured, and a footman entered with two trays—one laden with fresh fruit and pastries, the other with smoked salmon and bread still warm from the oven.
I smiled faintly. “It’s far more than I expected.”
“Cook insists on abundance,” he said with a hint of wry amusement. “She thinks food solves everything. I’ve never had the heart to disagree.”
When he reached to pour tea into my cup, I smiled faintly and said, “You didn’t come to my room last night.”
He looked up at me, eyes warm, untroubled. “No,” he said lightly. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
No guilt. No hesitation.
I stirred my tea slowly. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, keeping my tone airy. “I took a turn about the manor. I hoped it might ease my unrest.”
A shadow crossed his features, concern first, quickly masked by composure. “Did it help?”
“Not especially,” I replied, studying him over the rim of my cup. “Though I could have sworn I heard you speaking with someone on the other side of the manor.”
His fork paused mid-air. The silence that followed was so taut I could hear my own pulse quickening.
“The other side of the manor?” he echoed, voice too even.
I smiled dismissively, pretending I hadn’t noticed his jaw clench. “Yes. I must have gotten turned around and ended up there by mistake. The manor is so large.”
Sylum cleared his throat, setting his fork down with deliberate grace. “I’ll have Mrs. Ashby give you a proper tour this afternoon,” he promised, voice smooth again, but lacking its earlier ease.
