“I’ve been searching for Fillmore, but now I see why I couldn’t find him,” he said. “He’s probably hiding from Lady Tavernash.”
Their eyes held, amusement drawing them together in perfect accord until Miss Selwyn blushed, and her gaze darted away. “I need to finish my sketch before she wakes up. I think I have a better view from here.”
With that, she sat, her manner so unaffected that he hesitated only a moment before sitting down on the step above her. He shouldn’t. He should leave. He couldn’t help himself. Something about this young woman brightened his days; he didn’t want to cut their conversation short.
“I saw Hector again today. I went out to visit Hannibal. Have you visited yet?” he asked.
“Once. Alas, poor Hector. It is difficult for me to get out there in the times I have free,” she responded.
“Doesn’t your cousin need a sketch of the stables?” he asked, raising a brow.
She turned to gaze at him skeptically. “Perhaps. It isn’t her main interest. She wants the fine adornments and lush carpets.”
“What about the estate? Wouldn’t she like to see the extent of the place? How about the folly?” he suggested.
“Folly?”
It is on a hilltop overlooking the valley. I believe my… The former duke held parties there,” he explained.
“She would probably love that,” Miss Selwyn said.
“If you ride out, you would have an opportunity to visit Hector. He might want to lope along.”
Intense longing overcame her expression, and Gideon felt a sudden need to make certain it happened. “Consult with this Kerr person and your cousin. I’m confident you can convince them you need to do it.”
Her joy was palpable. “I’ll do it!”
He rose to his feet, managing to suppress his groan. “And now I should go. Someone might find us here and draw improper conclusions. Finish your sketch and follow me later,” he said.
Her expression as he walked away, trust comingled with hope, gave him a frisson of regret. The reports he’d had from Pritchard were alarming. Not only did the villagers believe him to be a ravisher of women but a murderer as well. Eustace Selwyn and his friends dined out on it. He shouldn’t have offered to ride out with her. And yet he knew he would do it.
*
Supper that nightproved as unpleasant as Mia expected. She had almost stayed away, but if she was to stay at Woodglen, she would face the dragon that was Lady Tavernash sooner or later.
Mia descended the stairs and went straight to the dining room. At no time had the odd mix of Woodglen residents practiced the custom of gathering in the drawing room first. There had been no point. Lady Tavernash had other ideas.
Marshall waited at the door for her. Behind him, the room was empty. “Where are the others?” she asked.
“In the chinois drawing room, the one that opens onto the dining room. The old woman is haranguing Kendrick about his presence here,” he said.
Mia felt the blood drain from her face. The drawing room was steps away, and she could her the woman’s strident tones.
“I need to join them before she tries to toss the lot of us out. Do you want to eat upstairs?” Marshall asked.
Mia stood up straight and raised her chin. “No. I refuse to hide from her.”
Marshall smiled. “Good girl.” He offered his arm and opened the door moments later.
“…and that isn’t the worst of it. Now I’m hearing you murdered the poor duke in an attempt to take part of my Felton’s heritage.” The words brought Marshall to an abrupt halt. They made Mia sick to her stomach. Marshall’s baffled frown made it clear he’d never heard Eustace’s lies.
“Only a fool believes pub gossip,” Mr. Kendrick retorted. “I hadn’t thought you that sort, my lady.”
“Felton, my vinaigrette quickly. This, this interloper insulted me.” The woman collapsed onto the settee, one hand to her brow. Tavernash rushed over to pat her other hand. She spied Marshall and sat up abruptly. “You there. Marshall. I insist that you remove this creature from the house.”
“I fear I cannot, my lady. Mr. Kendrick was specifically invited here by the duke.”
Unlike some people, Mia thought ruefully.
