Lady Eamont took a threatening step toward her daughter. “Your sister would not have gone willingly with that blaggard!” She turned her glare on Nate. “Get the magistrate to fetch my daughter home. She does not have permission to marry that merchant or whatever he is. We don’t even know where he comes from. He doesn’t have a title or—” She looked from her husband to Nate—“He’s a nobody. She’ll be ruined!”
“You’re too late,” Lydia said. “Scotland isn’t that far from here, so by the time, you find her, she’ll be married.”
“This wasyourdoing!” Lady Eamont pointed a finger at Lydia.
Bridget was surprised and touched to see Dodsworth put a supportive hand on Lydia’s shoulder.
“No, Mama,” Lydia said in a strong voice Bridget had never heard her use before. “It wasyourdoing. You have been tormenting us for years, controlling our every movement and thoughts, and now we are both free of you.”
“What did you do?” Lady Eamont narrowed her eyes. “How did you manage to convince Lord Dodsworth—a confirmed bachelor—to take you as his bride?” She looked from Lydia to Dodsworth. “Something is afoot, and I am going to find out what it is.”
“It’s no wonder you’re surprised, Mama. You spent your turning us into pariahs, training us to talk in unison like parrots and dressing usalike so you could parade us about like dolls. And at the same time, you pit us against each other, trying to marry Adelia off to Mr. Squires and forcing me to remain at home as your companion for life all because Papa despises you.”
“Now that’s going too far!” Lord Eamont said.
Lady Eamont slapped her daughter across the face. “How dare you speak to me thus?”
“Stop these theatrics immediately!” Lord Eamont thundered. “Adelia is lost to us. That’s the end of it,” he said. “The girl has made her choice, and she will live with it.”
“This is entirely your fault!” Now Lady Eamont turned her fury on Nate. “If you had stuck to the agreement your brother made with us then Adelia would be married, and both our families would be enormously enriched. But you have always been a wastrel. Your father knew as much, but your brother refused to believe you could not be reformed. So, what did he do? He gave you this beautiful villa, and how did you thank him? By setting your sights on a bankruptfelo de se’s daughter who is no better than your servant.” She turned her furious glare on Bridget and there was no mistaking the murderous intent in her eyes.
Bridget took a step back, expecting the woman to lunge at her.
“Isaidthat’s enough!” Lord Eamont thundered. “It’s time for you to sit down, my lady.”
Lady Eamont straightened her shoulders and turned back to Nate. “We will be leaving this place tomorrow and reporting back to Lord Westerly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he cuts you off without a penny.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere,” Nate said.
She stopped and stared at him. “Excuse me?” she said haughtily.
“There’s been another death at Villa De Lacey, and this time the magistrate suspects foul play.” Nate was lying, but for good reason. “No one may leave until we find out who is responsible.”
“I don’t think that will be possible, old chap,” Dodsworth said. “The king has summoned all peers back to London for QueenCaroline’s adultery trial. It begins on August 17th. That’s in three weeks. And it takes two weeks to journey back to London.”
“Exactly,” Lord Eamont said. “He is quite right. There’ll be no defying the king, even for the magistrate.”
“Oh, I should like to be back in London for the trial too,” Lady Darby said. “It’s an event not to be missed.”
“You won’t be allowed to attend the trial,” Lady Eamont said frostily. “It’s only for the lords.”
“I’m well aware”—Lady Darby turned her nose in the air—“but I shall attend the tea parties and enjoy the gossip and speculation.”
Bridget gaped at the woman, somewhat repulsed by the fact that she seemed to be looking forward to the spectacle of another woman’s predicament.
“I shan’t be going. I think the entire trial is shameful.” Lady Luxton tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “The queen has done nothing wrong.”
“Is anyone here interested in the fact that someone else hasdied?” Nate folded his arms and scanned the room.
Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at him. He finally had their attention.
Bridget held her breath, waiting for Nate to break the news.
“For heaven’s sake!” Lady Luxton snapped. “Who has died? Is it that little white mutt that’s always running around?”
Bridget scowled. Bijou, exhausted from the morning’s chaos had crept upstairs and was likely curled up on his blanket at the foot of her bed.
“It’s one of the housemaids,” Nate said, and Bridget watched the faces of the guests as he spoke. “Her name was Abigail.”
