And not far from the door, Lady Orpington continued whipping up her insurrection against the whist ban. Few seemed to share her outrage.
However, Gwendolyn’s strangest observation was that, as the maid led her to the double staircase in the entry hall, they passed Lady Middlebury. She had gone out the door and yet had not traveled far.
Instead, she lingered in the hall, just out ofsight of the reception room entrance. She appeared focused on someone in the other room to the point she seemed to barely register anyone around her.
Gwendolyn stole a look in that direction, and realized Lady Middlebury had her sights on Mr. Steele. By the harsh set of her features, she did not like what she saw.
The hard knot of Gwendolyn’s jealousy vanished.He needed her.He might not want her help in his search for answers, he might even be overly distracted by Miss Purley, but Lady Middlebury either suspected or knew who he was. She was going to keep an eye on him. He’d not be allowed to poke around freely.
Gwendolyn could. She had no secret identity. She could do what he could not... and make herself useful to him.
Abruptly the marchioness took off down the main hall.
Gwendolyn pondered her hostess’s behavior. Did Lady Middlebury know her husband had a love child? Did she suspect that child was Mr. Steele? Or Mr. Curran, as he was being called?
Illegitimate children were not unusual among thetonwhere most marriages, especially of the very wealthy, were arranged. Many men openly acknowledged their bastards. That Lord Middlebury did not suggested that he had kept a secret from his wife.
Lady Middlebury’s suspicions might explain her imperious canceling of the whist tournament. She knew Lady Orpington hoped to restore her honor. Denying her the opportunitywas a punishment, quite possibly because Lady Middlebury felt betrayed by her old friend.
The maid took Gwendolyn up another set of stairs, and then another. The two wings of the house had not been later additions but seemed to have been part of the original build.
One curved staircase off the entry hall led to what they called the East Wing; a second staircase was closest to the West Wing. On each floor, the staircases met at a landing. Guests could choose to go left or right, whichever their preference.
The maid took Gwendolyn to the third floor, which she referred to as the “guest hall.” She turned to the right. This was the East Wing. The walls were decorated with landscapes of Colemore and Kent over the years with paintings of horses and livestock for balance. A porter was stationed at the landing between the wings to see to guests’ needs.
The maid took Gwendolyn to one of the many paneled doors lining both sides of the hall, opened the door, and stepped back for Gwendolyn to enter. Gwendolyn was impressed.
The bedroom was spacious with a window overlooking the front drive. The furnishings were somewhat severe but balanced by the buttery color of the walls and the blue draperies and linens. Molly had already unpacked Gwendolyn’s luggage and had a dress for dinner laid out on the bed. It was one of the white muslin gowns that had become Gwendolyn’s trademark around London. White went well with her coloring, and she liked the air of serenity such a simple frock gave her. This one had a soft white stripe sewn inthe material, and the low-cut bodice was edged with just a hint of lace.
“The water is fresh in the basin, miss,” the maid said. “Your abigail should be in to see you shortly. This room doesn’t have a maid’s cupboard, so her bed will be in the servants’ quarters with the others. They should all actually be eating their evening meal around this time.”
“Thank you,” Gwendolyn murmured, impressed that Colemore saw not only to her comfort but also that of the servants.
“Will there be anything else, miss?” the maid asked.
“Thank you, I’m fine.”
The maid withdrew, shutting the door behind her. Gwendolyn moved to the window. All was quiet on the front drive, a sign that the majority of the guests had arrived. Most would be in their rooms like she was, preparing for dinner.
It was the perfect time for a bit of prying. She could always claim she was giving herself a tour of the house.
Gwendolyn quickly changed for dinner without waiting for Molly. She kept her hairstyle simple, splashed on a bit of her favorite toilette water because it reminded her of Ireland’s green meadows, and then cracked open the door. She checked to see if anyone was out in the hall. Not even the porter was at his station. Someone must have sent him off on an errand.
She quietly slipped out of her room.
Chapter Nine
Gwendolyn walked to the end of the East Wing, taking time to study the paintings, especially those of the property, while also straining her ears for sounds or bits of conversation from the other side of the doors. She couldn’t hear much.
Colemore, she decided, was lavish and elegant, but there was a coldness about the house she didn’t understand. Everything seemed a bit too perfect as if no one lived here. Or at least no one who barreled through life with laughter and good humor in the way she and her sisters had lived in Wiltham. There were no marks on the wall, no signs of wear of any sort. There didn’t even appear to be a speck of dust on the floor.
She wondered which room was Mr. Steele’s, and then decided it was best she didn’t know. Besides, he was probably still downstairs basking in Miss Purley’s adoration. Gwendolyn was the one doing the work—but exactly what was she searching for? As she walked back along the corridor, she cataloged what she did know.
Mr. Steele’s dreams were of a singing woman who confronted an unknown, mysterious terror. The woman might or might not be his mother.
So, what was it Mr. Steele expected to discover at Colemore?
The identity of his mother, of course—whether she was the woman in his dream or not. The answer seemed obvious to Gwendolyn. Having lost a mother at a very young age herself, she understood the void such a death left. Of course, she was certain he would not agree with her. Men didn’t grasp the importance of relationships the way women did, except what else could Mr. Steele be looking for?
