“When was this?”
“In the late afternoon, itwas. Two days ago.”
“You didn’t think itnecessary to inform me?”
Thacker frowned. “At the time I didn’tconsider it of particular importance. Maids come and go. Somefellow involved more than likely.”
“Did you inquire at theagency when you replaced her?”
“I did. They had noknowledge of Amy.”
“Her references wereforged?”
“No! I wouldn’t fall forthat ploy. You learn as many tricks as an organ grinder’s monkey inthis job! Amy’s references came from a fine family related to theButterstones.”
“Who might thatbe?”
“The Caindales.”
“Has Lady Butterstone beeninformed?”
“Yes. She didn’t seem totake it in. Said I should refer it to the housekeeper.”
“What about LadyAshley?”
“Lady Ashley was present atthe time. She made no comment.”
Jack tightened his jaw and stood.“Thank you, Mr. Thacker. You’ve been most helpful.”
Thacker either missed the note ofirony in Jack’s voice or decided to ignore it. He climbed to hisfeet and offered his hand. “Glad to be of service, Captain Ryder.”He followed Jack down the corridor. “It’s been a smoky business allround. Do you have any news to impart about poor Lord Butterworth’sdeath?”
In the hall, Jack took his hat,gloves, and cane from the butler. “Not as yet, Mr. Thacker, butplease contact me immediately should any other problemarise.”
Jack crossed the road. He examinedthis latest information as he walked toward Bascombe’s house. Thecolonel would be very interested in this latest development. Hebanged his cane against the wrought-iron fence that encased thegardens, as something he’d learned rose to trouble him. Ashley hadknown about the maid. Why hadn’t she mentioned it tohim?
~~~
Home again at Rountree Park, Erinarode her mare, Jessie, along the trail through the woods. An hourlater, she arrived back her thoughts in less of a turmoil. At thestables she groomed her horse with a curry comb, removing the loosehair, then worked briskly with the dandy brush, a ritual she foundcalming. She cleaned the horse’s hooves while Jessie watched herwith her big soft dark eyes. Finally, Erina brushed the horse’smane and tail. She put the feed bag on, patted Jessie’s neck andleft the horse to the stable boy.
As she walked back to thehouse, Erina anguished over her approaching wedding which was totake place in the village church in a little over a week’s time.Her father had wasted little time bringing her home and organizingthe vicar. Harry’s special license was employed. After decidingthat their marriage was the only way to avoid a terrible scandal,her father, in collaboration with Sir Ambrose, had posted theirengagement in theMorning Postthe day after she and Harry left for Ireland.After which, it was put about that Erina had come down with ahorrid rash after falling from her horse into a patch of bishop’sweed and would see no one. So, by some miracle, and the swiftaction of their fathers, their scandalous journey had remained asecret.
Aunt Abbie would arrive this afternoonto assist in the wedding preparations. Harry, who was improvingdaily, had been taken home to Featherstone Court in Mayfair to betreated by his father’s London doctor. They would not meet againuntil the day of the wedding.
Erina plucked a bay leaf as she passedthe shrub, releasing a savory scent as she shredded it with herfingers. She didn’t like her days feeling so empty without Harry.She feared she’d fallen in love with him. She’d been shocked at herown eager response to the touch of his lips. Her mind constantlyrecalled the musk of his smooth skin, and the intriguing shape ofhis body beneath the bedcovers. She was a hopeless case. Would shebecome like her mother? Married to a man who didn’t loveher?
Her father was in his study catchingup on the news while his pipe smoke sucked the air from theroom.
“Cathleen lives verysimply.” Erina swooped up their tabby, Jasper, and sat on the sofawith him on her lap, stroking his soft fur. “Did Mama’s family losetheir fortune?”
Her father peered at her over the topof the broadsheet. “What made you think your mother’s family waswealthy?”
“Didn’t Mama have ahandsome dowry?”
“She did not.” Her fatherput down his paper and glared at her. “Do you believe that’s why Imarried her?”
“No, of course not.” Erinareddened.
“I loved your mother.” Hisgaze softened. “When we first danced at Almack’s, I knew therecould never be another woman for me. My father tried to prevent thematch. Irish and practically no dowry? He was furious. It wasrequired of me to marry an heiress. I dug my heels in and marriedher, anyway. And I never regretted it for a moment.”
