He had told her his mother took lovers to survive. That she paid for it with her life. And that one man bore the blame. But what had happened at Shadowmere when his father died?
Dominic was not careless with his hatred. Something he had not told her drove it. If she understood that, she might understand him.
She dressed in haste, snatched Mr Beattie’s list from the table, and went in search of the taskmaster. She found him talking to Mr Ramsey outside Dominic’s study, both men frowning over a sheaf of papers. Perhaps they’d misplaced the gilded fig leaves.
“Since this business with Miss Harland, he’s not thinking straight,” Mr Ramsey said, sounding rather irate.
She considered retreating before they noticed her.
“Every move he’s made follows a logical pattern,” Mr Beattie said in clear disagreement. “Have faith. This is another rational step to him discovering the truth.”
There was nothing logical about the way he’d touched her last night. Nothing rational about succumbing to this confounding attraction.
“The truth might see him killed. When the Moseleys issue a summons, the sexton sharpens his spade.”
The men heard her sharp intake of breath.
Both turned to stare as though she were a spy at Court.
She approached. “Has Mr Hawke heard from the Moseley brothers?”
While Mr Ramsey uttered an expletive, Mr Beattie gave a reassuring smile. “A letter arrived late last night. I’m sure Mr Hawke will explain once we’ve finished preparing for the Masque.”
Last night? He had said nothing to her.
“I see the list in your hand, Miss Harland,” Mr Beattie said, a poor attempt at distraction. “If you’d care to walk with me, we’ll check the completed tasks.”
She looked at the study’s solid oak door. “I’ll speak to MrHawke first. I’m keen to see the letter. After all, the debt to the Moseley brothers is mine.”
She spoke like the mistress of the house, not a fugitive clinging to freedom. But she would not be kept in the dark. And they were hiding something.
Mr Ramsey moved to block her path. “Hawke’s not in there. No one enters without his permission.” He rattled the brass doorknob to prove it was locked.
“Then tell me where I might find him.”
“Who can say? The estate is vast.”
Her chest constricted. She’d negotiated enough with her father to know when men expected compliance.
But Mr Ramsey had made a mistake.
“Then I have a wealth of ground to cover, and the air will do me good.” She thrust the list at Mr Beattie. “I’m confident you’ll find no problems. If you see Mr Hawke, tell him I’m looking for him. It’s a fine day. Perhaps I’ll begin with a walk to the church.”
She turned on her heels and strode along the corridor.
Mr Ramsey followed, boots striking the boards in sharp rebuke. “You can’t leave Shadowmere. Mr Hawke gave strict instructions.”
Mr Hawke was not her keeper. Nor her master.
She did not slow, even when the burly fellow reached her side. “Direct me to Mr Hawke, and I’ll discuss it with him.”
“Wait here. I’ll see if I can locate him.”
Locate him? He had never been difficult to find.
Then it struck her. The letter. The summons.
Had he gone without telling her? Without trusting her?
