“Of course not!” Frederick said. “She loved his money, and she loved the power she wielded over him.”
“The power?”
“She was beautiful, and he was besotted—so besotted that he became careless.”
Nate thought about how they’d walked along the lake’s edge in full view of anyone who cared to look, and he had to agree. “Do you think Lady Eamont might have pushed her?”
Frederick put his cigar to his lips and inhaled. After exhaling a long stream of smoke, he shrugged. “I think that’s a tad far-fetched. It’s more likely that she fell. The woman enjoyed her drink a little too much. She could have easily tripped.”
“And was she inebriated last night?” Nate asked.
“How should I know?”
“Oh, come on Frederick. I know what’s been going on with your midnight excursions. My housemaids are barely able to wake up in time to perform their duties in the morning. Madam Bouffant was still wearing her evening dress when she fell. Shewasout, doingsomething. Are you telling me you didn’t see her last night?”
Frederick took a sip of his brandy and then placed the glass on the small table beside him. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve been quite enjoying the tranquility of this place. I couldn’t understand what had happened to you at first, but I see it now. This place gets under your skin. It changes you—quiets one somehow.”
Nate eyed his friend. Perhaps he was speaking the truth. After all, the Lake District had worked its magic on him, so why not Frederick? Still, knowing Frederick for as many years as he had made that scenario hard to believe.
Chapter Seventeen
Although she’d safelyescaped Dodsworth’s notice, Bridget continued to linger impatiently amongst the trees for a while longer, not wanting to run into Lydia as she returned to the villa. If Lydia suspected that she’d overheard her conversation with Lord Dodsworth, the situation could become dangerous.
Bridget was already acquainted with Lydia’s unpleasant nature, but she’d been surprised to witness an aggressive side to the normally mild-mannered Dodsworth. She’d never heard him speak in such a harsh tone before. Then again, Lydia had been blackmailing him at the time, so a little anger could be expected. But what was the hanging offense Lydia had accused him of? If the crime was Madam Bouffant’s murder, then Jefferson had to be involved too as she already suspected. He was Dodsworth’s closest friend, and it followed that Dodsworth’s secret might be Jefferson’s as well.
*
Assessing that itwas finally safe to reenter the villa, Bridget put Bijou down and the terrier scampered up the path toward the servants’ entrance, no doubt hungry for a bowl of Cook’s scraps. Bridget followed, so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice Lydia Eamont walking toward her. “Oh, Miss De Lacey there you are. May I have a word?”
Bridget’s heart began to pound. What was all this about? HadLydia spotted her in the garden after all?
But there was no malice in Lydia’s expression. She looked flushed with happiness—just like a new bride.
“I want to throw a little party—nothing too grand—only a fancy luncheon or tea.” Lydia practically sang her words, and for a moment Bridget was so taken aback by her change in demeanor that she could not answer.
“Miss De Lacey?” Lydia peered at Bridget. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Uhm. How…how about tea in the garden?” Bridget stammered. That was exactly what she’d been planning to keep both the guests and the servants occupied while she searched the rooms. “What’s the occasion?” she asked, feigning innocence.
Lydia’s thin lips curved into a sly smile. “I can’t quite say, not yet. It’s a celebration of sorts.”
“How wonderful!” Bridget clapped her hands to feign enthusiasm. “I do love celebrations.”
“Me too! And it will be our secret until tomorrow. I don’t want Mama interfering with my plans.
“Very well,” Bridget said. “But I shall need to tell Cook in advance so she can prepare, but you’re not to worry, she’s trustworthy.”
“Good, now let’s discuss what to serve, shall we?”
Bridget nodded, still stunned by Lydia’s change in demeanor—she was rather cheerful and, dare she think it, polite!
*
The next day,Nate frowned at the round tables and chairs that had been moved into the garden and arranged in clusters next to each other. Each table was covered with a white linen cloth and housed a bouquet at its center. “Doesn’t that seem a bit crass after a woman just died on our floor?”
“I have no choice.” Bridget eyed Bijou as he darted between the tables, chasing a squirrel. “Lydia Eamont insisted.”
“Lydia Eamont insisted you throw a tea party in the garden?” Nate repeated, stressing Lydia’s name as though he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
