“Right now,” Diana said, “I don’t want to push Lord Tristan to do anything he does not want to do.”
“Oh, he’s sweet on you, my lady. He still has feelings for you, I can tell.”
The footman opened the coach door and Diana climbed down first. Once Tabitha was out, she pointed to the trunks on the back, directing her gaze on him.
“Take Lady Hollingsworth’s trunks to her room.”
The middle-aged man glared at Tabitha, then switched his focus to Diana. She nodded. “Yes, Curtis. Do as Tabitha has instructed. She is now my personal maid.”
His eyes widened. “But what will become of Martha Whitehead?”
“I’m certain we can find some other area for her to work on the estate. In fact, I believe she would make a wonderful housekeeper since Mrs. Newton has been very ill lately and is much too old to handle the manor by herself.” Diana turned and headed toward the front door, keeping her chin up and back straight. She couldn’t allow these servants to make her cower in any way. She was still the mistress of the manor until Ludlow’s cousin, Mr. Tobias Lusk, came to claim it.
Entering the manor, she glanced over her shoulder at Tabitha who followed closely behind. Diana was grateful she would at least have a friend in this place, but she still feared someone would know Tabitha had worked for Lord Elliot. Diana could only pray that wouldn’t happen because she did need an ally here, if even for a little while. It would make staying here that much more bearable.
“Oh my,” Tabitha whispered in awe. “Your husband had some lovely things.”
Diana rolled her eyes. Slowing her steps, she waited for Tabitha to come closer. “Indeed, he did. He enjoyed showing off his wealth, and he treated these paintings, vases, and rugs better than he did his wife,” she ended lowering her voice.
“When will his cousin arrive to take over?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Mr. Lusk has been notified of Ludlow’s passing, but I have yet to hear when he will arrive.”
The maid stopped, her gaze darting around the hall slower this time. “Perhaps we should sneak some expensive items out for you before he comes,” she whispered. “After all, you have to live, too.”
Tabitha’s comment caught Diana by surprise, and she laughed. “Oh, Tabitha. Believe me, that thought has crossed my mind several times, but I talked myself out of it. Once I leave this place, I don’t want anything to remind me of Ludlow.”
“That’s understandable.”
From the kitchen, the staunch cook, Mrs. Jennings, walked out, her narrow gaze trained right for Diana. She gulped, not liking the way the older woman looked at her. Collecting her courage, Diana squared her shoulders and waited to see what the servant wanted.
“My lady,” Mrs. Jennings said sternly, “I was not told you would be returning this soon.”
Diana arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“Well, not entirely. But yesterday you had visitors. Mr. Phillips told them we didn’t know when you would return.”
Diana shrugged. “I suppose if it were important to see me, they will return. Did they leave any kind of message with the butler?”
“No, Mr. Phillips did not have a message.”
“Who was it that came?” Diana wondered.
The cook narrowed her gaze and lifted a haughty chin. “Mr. Phillips said that the magistrate and some of his men were the ones inquiring after you, my lady. The magistrate has some questions to ask you about Lord Elliot’s death.”
Diana’s heart dropped as fear ran rapidly through her blood. The hint of brightness in her future quickly faded.
Chapter Nineteen
Heavy clouds filledthe night sky, making the evening appear darker than normal as Tristan walked to the men’s club where he and his brother, Trey, visited frequently. Although Trey would probably not be here, he enjoyed more spending time at home with his wife. Their good friend, Dominic, Marquess of Hawthorne, would probably be playing some card game, and winning. Tristan almost hoped to see his brother, Trey tonight. It would be easier to explain what was going on if both Trey and Nic were in the same room.
He hurried inside and gave his overcoat and top hat to the footman. Tristan strolled into the main room in search of his brother. Most of the tables were surrounded by men drinking and visiting. At first nobody looked at him, which suited Tristan just fine. Finally, one gent sitting at the closest table met Tristan’s eyes. The man gasped and nearly spilled his drink as it fell from his fingers.
“Lord Tristan.”
The trickle effect was rather astonishing. Once Tristan’s name was spoken, gasps exploded around the room—his name on most everyone’s tongue. Soon whispers overrode the gasps until the room buzzed withLord Tristan.Surprised faces stared dumbstruck at him as if he’d risen from the grave. This expression was very familiar to Tristan since many had looked that way when he returned from the dead not too long ago.
He inclined his head briefly, but didn’t say anything. As another footman walked by carrying empty wine glasses, Tristan said, “Excuse me, but can you tell me if Lord Trey and Lord Hawthorne are here?”
