Even Miss Vaughn’s wrinkles seemed to smile as she explained, “He is the only member of the staff with access to the guns, and the inspector found the weapon that was used in Ashdown’s gun room. But the clincher was the paper from that horrible note matched the stationary in his office.”
“Good heavens,” Cordelia exclaimed.
“Not that I ever gossip, my lady,” Miss Vaughn said primly.
“Of course not.”
“But if I were to gossip—”
“Yes, Miss Vaughn?” Cordelia prompted.
“I’d tell you that Thayne is pleased as punch to be a butler at his young age. It’s practically indecent, it is. He’s not even twenty-five.”
“Neither is Lord Farnham.”
Miss Vaughn tutted. “But he was born to his position, my lady, not given it.”
“Isn’t being born into something the same as being given it? He didn’t do anything to receive his title.”
The older lady shook her head. “Our traditions make us who we are, and if we were to lose our traditions, we would have nothing left.”
Cordelia felt somber during dinner; she always did when Mr. Ryse dined with them. Thayne poured the wine, and the footmen served the courses. The food tasted blander than usual. She had no appetite. All she could think about was Hibbert and that his obsession with traditions and estates caused him to attempt murder. It seemed incredulous to her. But as she’d been told so many times in the last few months, she wasn’t English.
After dinner, she didn’t join the card game. She wasn’t in the mood. Blanche and Mr. Ryse competed against Thomas and Penelope. She felt a flash of annoyance at the puppy eyes Penelope always gave Thomas and the smile he responded with. She tried to read but could not concentrate. Penelope kept giggling and reminiscing.
“Oh, Thomas,” she said, “do you remember when we climbed the giant ash tree and got stuck for hours? We screamed for help until we were hoarse.”
Cordelia glanced up in time to see Thomas’s face light up as he laughed. He looked younger, carefree, and happy. Penelope made him happy, whereas Cordelia could not.
“And we would be up there still if it weren’t for the goodness of Mr. Ryse,” he said, clapping the older man on the shoulder. “You climbed up and carried us down one at a time.”
Mr. Ryse nodded, but there was a light in his eyes. “Aye, and a rare lecture I gave you both once all of our feet were on the ground.”
Penelope glowed brighter than any light bulb. “Yes, and Thomas bravely took all the blame. Although, I do recall that it was my idea to climb that particular tree.”
“I was your knight, after all.”
She clapped her hands. “Yes, I’d forgotten. I was your princess.”
Thomas guffawed.
Cordelia snapped her book closed. She wasn’t reading it anyway, and her life was anything but a fairytale. Hibbert had tried to kill her, and they were chatting like nothing had happened. If anything, Thomas seemed to be trying too hard to be cheery and laughing loudly at the weakest of jokes. She bit down on the insides of her cheeks to hold in her frustration. Setting down the book, she walked to the door. Jealousy mixed with anger coursed through her body like hot blood. She couldn’t endure another half hour of their tender memories or shared happiness.
“Leaving already?” Blanche called.
“I’m a bit tired.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Thomas said, springing to his feet, casting a quick glance of apology to Penelope.
“But what of our game?” Mr. Ryse protested.
“Yes, Thomas, you can’t leave Penelope without a partner,” Blanche said.
“I’m sure Pen can handle herself very well without me,” he said, and took Cordelia’s elbow and escorted her out of the room. Her pulse quickened, as did her temper. Still, she took his offered arm and smelled his American cologne; she felt the same sort of odd tingling in her stomach that she’d felt when they were alone in her room. She couldn’t help but wish that he loved her and not Penelope.
They walked together until they reached the door to her room.
An errant lock of hair fell across her face, and before she could brush it out of the way, Thomas gently picked up the curl and tucked it behind her ear. “May I kiss you?”
