“It wasn’t me. I only wish he’d spent years drowning in debt and rotting in misery.”
Carter paused, letting the silence settle. “His sister confirmed he owed money to the Moseley brothers. That he planned to force his daughter to marry a wealthy merchant, and was out visiting her suitor when he met a tragic end.”
None of this surprised Dominic. “Perhaps the men you mentioned have taken Miss Harland hostage.”
“Or the lady did away with her father and is presently on the run,” the sergeant countered. “Of course, there’s always the possibility she had an admirer, and he committed the dastardly deed for her.”
Dominic gave a disinterested huff, yet his mind ran through endless possibilities. Had she got rid of the problem and sought refuge at Shadowmere? Did she have a beau and?—
No. He would not entertain it.
“It’s not natural,” Sir Lionel said, “to sit there and show not the smallest flicker of concern. A man is dead. Have you no?—”
“I’ve seen a naked judge don furry ears and bray like a donkey. Few things rouse a reaction.” Except, perhaps, anunexpected kiss from a chaste maiden. One who would never forgive him.
He stood, so abruptly Sir Lionel flinched. “Is that all, gentlemen? If you wish to continue this conversation, you’ll need to drag me away in shackles. If you have proof I’m involved, fetch the prison cart. Ramsey will show you out.”
He had more pressing concerns.
Somehow, he would have to find an ounce of compassion when he informed Miss Harland that her father was dead.
“The corner of the sheet must be mitred, Miss Smith. Folded at precisely the right angle to prevent the material from slipping.” Mr Beattie gave the footman’s mattress a sharp tap with his gunner’s stick. “Try again. Mr Hawke won’t tolerate wrinkled bed sheets.”
Daphne forced a smile and dismissed all thoughts of Mr Hawke lying sprawled on his feather-stuffed mattress. How strange that a man who lived to break rules should be so exact.
Clearly, Lady Soanes had never worked under a housekeeper with a military background. It had been less than a day, yet Daphne felt as though she’d marched across a dozen battlefields. How was she meant to survive a whole month?
As Mr Beattie continued issuing orders, she pictured an idyllic cottage on the banks of Loch Tay, the reward Lady Soanes had promised if she completed the task. Somewhere remote. A place her father would never think to look. A place Mr Irving would never find her.
Yet there was a complication.
“Will I be expected to tend to guests during the Masque?”
What if one recognised her and told her father? Worse, what if Lord Templeton cornered her in some dark corridor, no chaperones, no witnesses, and no chance to refuse him?
Perhaps she should warn Mr Hawke?
But convincing him to let her stay would be no small feat.
“Mr Hawke won’t permit you to work during the Masque. He’ll send you to stay with Mrs Buckley for the weekend. She was the housekeeper here some years ago.”
So, the master was happy to disgrace an innocent before theton, but would protect his maid like an honourable knight on a moral crusade.
“And in the meantime, I’m to have a room in the servants’ quarters?” Preferably one farthest from the devil who tested her mettle with naked bathing.
“No,” came the commanding voice behind her. “You’ll be given alternative accommodation.”
She turned to find Mr Hawke leaning languidly against the doorjamb, dressed in black. He looked infuriatingly at ease, the very picture of masculine arrogance. The glint of mischief in his eyes seemed a permanent affliction. And byalternative accommodation, he clearly meant anywhere but Shadowmere.
“May I have a private word, Beattie, while MissSmithfinishes making the bed?”
The request did little to soften the curious frown on the housekeeper’s brow, but he followed Mr Hawke into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
She couldn’t hear what was said, but when Mr Beattie returned, he looked at her as one might a war widow receiving sad news.
Mr Hawke motioned to the corridor. “Shall we?”
She looked at his outstretched hand. Last night, he’d led her onto the dance floor, and her world hadn’t stoppedspinning since. Why did she sense something similar was about to unfold?
