Eliza nodded and withdrew, and Bridget exhaled, feeling some of the anxiety leaving her body. But the exhaustion remained. She felt as though she’d spent the morning carrying a heavy load on her back.
Eliza returned several minutes later carrying a tray with a pot of hot tea and some lovely biscuits to go with it. “And some scraps for Bijou.” The terrier wagged his tail madly as Eliza set the bowl before him.
Bridget poured herself and Eliza a cup of tea, adding a lump of sugar and a dash of milk to her cup and leaving Eliza’s black. They sat in silence for a minute, sipping their tea. Bridget ate several biscuits, not realizing how hungry she’d been. She had been too distressed and preoccupied to eat her breakfast. Eliza took tiny sips of her tea and declined to eat a biscuit. She had a small appetite, and as a result, her body was almost childlike in its height and weight.
“Have you noticed any unusual activity in the maids’ quarters at night?” Bridget asked after she’d satiated her thirst and hunger.
“There’s been all sorts of goings on, miss.” Eliza’s dark eyes stared unblinking at Bridget. “These young lasses we took on are up to no good.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are up until all hours of the night, Abigail and Sarah, whispering and giggling. I hear them scurrying about like mice. I suspectthey leave the house after everyone is asleep.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve seen them leaving their rooms well after midnight. My chamber is only two doors down from theirs. And like I said, I heard noises, so I poked my head out my bedroom door. They were fully dressed and wore no bonnets. Disgraceful.” She sat back and blinked, her small, pale face the picture of disapproval.
Once again, Bridget thought back to her earlier conversation with Aunt Marianne. “I’ve seen strange comings and goings in the garden from my window at night. Men and women cavorting together with no chaperone. One of them was your Mr. Squires.”
“Where do you think they were going?”
“I don’t know. But I think they were up to no good, miss. No good at all.”
Bridget pondered what both Eliza and Aunt Marianne had told her. Nate had obviously ended the interview to protect someone. She was certain he knew of these late-night comings and goings involving the servants. And why hadn’t he said anything about meeting Madam Bouffant in the garden? Could he be the guilty one?
Stop!Bridget felt the churning in her stomach return. She could not start making assumptions about Nate without proof. She had good instincts—or so she thought—and if Nate were a bad apple, she’d know it—feel it somehow. But what if her instincts weren’t as good as she’d thought them to be? After all, she’d never have guessed her papa would have acted the way he had—she’d trusted him implicitly—and he’d betrayed her—betrayed himself. Was anyone trustworthy?
Chapter Fifteen
Nate stood bythe window in the study and contemplated all that had gone on that day. He’d seen the change that had come over Bridget’s face when he’d stopped her from questioning the maids about their whereabouts the night before. Trust and affection had been replaced with skepticism and anger. It nearly broke his heart, but he had a clear idea of where the housemaids had been going at night, and if he was correct, he did not want Bridget finding out about it. His friend Lord Frederick had caused enough trouble already, and he suspected that his talk of midnight excursions to the lake had come to fruition. He only hoped Frederick’s influence on the maids and other guests hadn’t led to the disaster of Madam Bouffant’s death.
He sighed. Inviting Frederick to Villa De Lacey had seemed like a fantastic idea just after he’d arrived from London. He’d been angry at Edward and missed his old lifestyle, but now he regretted the decision. Frederick was a decent chap, but he was a confirmed rake and wasn’t about to change his ways. Nate recalled their years of carousing together—drinking, gambling, women. He’d never really wanted that life. At first, he’d done it to spite his father, who’d been controlling and severe like his brother. He’d resented his father for not trusting him, for thinking that he wasn’t capable of handling money, and believing that Edward needed to be left in charge of him. His father had always underestimated him. Nate could still feel the burning resentment in his chest. So, he’d turned to the likes of Frederick, and that had made things worse.
But everything had changed when he met Helen. When she came into his life, he lost interest in the carousing. He wanted to settle down and have a family. Oddly enough, it was Helen who wouldn’t let him stop. She loved being seen and insisted on attending every ball and social event in London. He wondered how she did that now with an aging husband confined to a chair. Nate shook his head. What did it matter? He no longer cared what Helen did. But he did care that he’d brought Frederick’s chaos to Villa De Lacey and disrupted Bridget’s peaceful existence as well as what he had to admit was her clever plan to remain in her ancestral home.
Nate turned from the window. It was time to have a chat with his friend. He needed to find out exactly what had been going on after dark and whether or not it could have resulted in Madam Bouffant’s death.
As he walked across the room, the door suddenly opened. He stepped back in surprise when Lady Luxton entered the study. She closed the paneled mahogany door behind her, leaned against it, and gave Nate a sly smile. Her deep-purple dress, complete with a lilac sash, complemented her dark hair and black eyes. Nate swallowed. A mixture of anger, sorrow, and lust coursed through him. Here was the woman who’d abandoned him at the altar, playing games with his heart again.
“What are you doing here, Helen?”
She sauntered toward him. “I thought we could finish the discussion we started last night.”
He held up his hand to stop her from advancing. “There was no discussion. I was merely taking a stroll in the garden, trying to clear my head, when you ambushed me out of nowhere. I told you then, and I will tell you now, we have nothing to say to each other.”
“I know you don’t mean that.” She continued to move closer to him. “Don’t you think it’s time you let go of the past and forgive me?”
Nate ran a hand through his hair. This was painful. Part of himwanted her to go away, but another part wished—no!She had no right to keep ambushing him like this.
Helen lowered her gaze and sucked her lower lip as if contemplating her next move. “You know I did what was best for both of us, don’t you?”
He chuckled. “How was humiliating me and running away to marry another man—old enough to be my grandfather—best for me?”
The comment seemed to sober her because she straightened her shoulders and abandoned her seductive tone. “When your father died, he left everything to your brother. You had nothing of your own—not even a title. You were at your brother’s mercy. And the earl disliked me. He would have turned us into his puppets. But my husband is as rich as Croesus and almost as old. He will die soon, and then he will make me a very rich woman.”
Nate sighed. “What of it? That has nothing to do with me.”
“My son will need a father. I shall be looking to remarry.”
