But what did that mean?“In what way?”
“In the way of feeding her children minute amounts of poison that would make them appear sickly or making them trip and fall in a way that twists an ankle.”
“Or by pushing them down a flight of stairs?”
“Oh, yes. That is one of her favorite ways.”
“You’re saying…” Bridget took a deep breath before proceeding, afraid she already knew the answer but still needing to confirm the truth. “Did she do that to you or Lydia?”
“Countless times.”
“Butwhy?” It was inconceivable.
“Control. She enjoys having complete control over us. She can be evil sometimes—nay, sheisevil.”
Bridget curled her fist around the small silk sack and felt the weight of the brooch in her hand. Was Adelia telling the truth? Or was she covering up her own crime by pointing a finger at her mama? There was no way to know for sure, Bridget thought as she glanced at the mirror. Adelia stared straight ahead, and then, her brown eyes met Bridget’s in the glass—and she saw only malice in them.
*
As Nate steppedinto the villa, he saw Bridget descending the stairs. She had a perturbed look, and Nate could see she was deep in thought.
“You disappeared for a good while,” he said, meeting her at the foot of the stairs.
“Oh.” She looked up as if startled to see him. “Yes, I”—she glanced around—“I’d rather not talk about it in here. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
Although she was referring to the guests, Nate felt the sting of her comment. He’d sensed her hesitancy to trust him of late, and he decided it was time to find out why. “What do you say we go out on horseback? It’s a fine day, and too many guests are out in the garden and by the lake for us to have a private talk down there.”
Much to his relief, Bridget nodded her agreement and twenty minutes later, they were cantering up to Orrest Head, the fresh wind blowing in their faces, and the magnificent view of the crystal lake, the mountains, and the green fells enveloping them from all sides.
Both sat on their horses and gazed down at the lake. The view from this height was even more breathtaking than from Villa De Lacey. “It’s truly remarkable here,” Nate said.
“It was one of Papa’s favorite places. We’d ride up here together at least once a week.”
They fell silent, enjoying the view, while their horses munched on the lush grass. Finally, Nate said, “So what do you make of Dodsworth’s betrothal to Lydia? Were you as shocked as everyone else?”
Bridget looked at him, and he knew she was assessing him—deciding whether she wanted to confide in him. Then she shrugged. “Perhaps he loves her. He may be your friend, but you may not know everything about him. People seem to have many secrets.”
Nate scoffed. “I know Dodsworth isn’t in love with Lydia Eamont.”
Bridget continued to watch him.
“What is it? I feel as though you wish to ask me something.”
“I was waiting for you to confess, but it doesn’t seem likely.”
“Confess? You think I’m guilty of something?”
“I think you’re hiding something, either to protect someone else or yourself.”
Nate sighed. Had she somehow found out about the maidservants cavorting with Frederick? He’d hoped to resolve that problem on his own without her finding out about it. “What is it you think I’ve done?”
Bridget pursed her lips and stared out at the lake. Then she turned to him, seemingly having decided to speak. “Very well. Why did you neglect to tell me that you were out in the garden with Madam Bouffant the night she died?”
Nate gave a short laugh. “Is that what your aunt told you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s mistaken. I was in the garden that night and, as it happens, so was Madam Bouffant, but she wasn’twithme.” He shifted in his saddle. “I was with Lady Luxton—that is, notwithher exactly, but…she…well. It’s of no matter. But quite frankly I don’t know how your aunt could identify anyone in such darkness.”
