“A friend of Pike’s.”
“No one mentioned a caller. Did he come to the kitchen door?”
A slight flush painted her sallow cheekbones. “No, this one.” She motioned to the door. The laundry was at the northern end of the building and set apart from the kitchen, with a few steps leading down. There was a screened area to dry the washing. It was possible no one saw him.
Olivia met the woman’s hard, defensive gaze. She doubted her, but Olivia gave up questioning her further. The woman’s thin lips had tightened. She would learn no more from Mrs. Hobbs today, but it sparked her interest to find her so defensive.
The new housemaid talked to Polly as she cleaned the servants’ hall.
“Jenny, did anyone come to the laundry door to see Mrs. Hobbs while you were there?”
The maid shook her head. “No, Miss Jenner.”
The gardeners would have noticed if a stranger wandered across the lawns. “Thank you, Jenny. Go back to your work. Come with me, Polly. While his lordship is away, we’ll attend to the library.”
“Yes, miss.”
While Polly dusted the library bookshelves, Olivia tidied the papers on the desk. Redcliffe had been gone for hours. He could have taken a groom with him, she thought with annoyance. But he wouldn’t want to place anyone in danger.
She retrieved a letter fluttering in the breeze from the open window and caught the last few lines “…and pray you will come to us at Christmas. Our neighbor’s daughter, Marianne, has not yet been spoken for! Signed, Evelyn, Lady Trelawny.
Redcliffe’s sister had found a suitable bride for him. Olivia had always known Redcliffe would choose a wife from his own class.
Heavy-hearted, she moved away from the desk. This should not hurt so much. She had always known it. Redcliffe wanted her, but as his mistress, not his wife. Earls did not marry their housekeepers.
“Finish up here, Polly. You’ll find me in the steward’s room.”
She left Polly to her work. Could Pike’s ledgers contain the vital piece of information she sought? Had she overlooked it?
Her head bowed over the ledger, a finger on the list of entries. She was so engrossed, she didn’t immediately look up when the door opened.
“What are you searching for, Olivia?”
She released a long, shuddering breath. Redcliffe home safe. His wet hair slicked back, dark eyebrows raised.
He strode across the room and planted his hands on the desk, leaning toward her.
Her throat dried as she met his cool green gaze, dismayed to have him find her examining Pike’s old ledgers. “Did you discover anything in the woods, my lord?” She glanced at his shoulder. “How is your wound? I hope it isn’t bleeding again. Would you like me to look at it? The doctor has come and gone. I gave him the Cognac.” She was rambling, her heart skittering with distress, her gaze darting away from his.
He reached across and placed a hand beneath her chin, raising her gaze to his. She found disappointment in his eyes. “Answer my question.”
She edged back out of his reach. “I will, but you might wish to dry your hair and change your damp clothes first.”
“Damn it all,” he demanded. “You’ll tell me now.”
“Very well.” She swallowed to ease her dry throat. “Your uncle insisted he’d paid for two horses my father sold him. Papa swore he had not.” She didn’t mention her father’s resulting despair and tragic end, although she desperately wanted to.
Redcliffe folded his arms. “So, you sought a post here to expose what you believe is a fraud perpetuated by my uncle?”
She’d never seen him so angry. “I want justice. To clear my father’s name.”
“And the thousand pounds.”
“Yes!” She raised her chin. “Why not? Father would want me to have the money. It would help me set up my house and buy a business.”
His eyes shadowed, he searched hers. “That remains your intention?”
She swallowed and licked her bottom lip. “Yes, it does.”
