Tonight, he’d said one’s face was a reflection of their heart. Cecilia had grown to love his face, but there were parts of Gideon’s heart that remained a dark mystery to her. How could she bear to delve into the deepest, darkest secrets he hid there, after she’d slept in his arms? How could she ever see him as anything but the man whose kiss weakened her knees, whose smile stole her breath, whose blue eyes made her heart soar in her chest?
If Lady Clifford thinks you’re fit for this business, lass, then you’re fit.
But she wasn’t fit, and she never had been. Lady Clifford should have sent Georgiana in her place, or Emma. Neither of them would have let her emotions run amok as Cecilia had done. Neither of them would have become overwrought, and made such a mess of things.
Neither of them would have fallen inlove with him.
But Cecilia had. She was in love with Gideon, and there was no going back from that, no way to change it. No way she could ever look at him and see anyone other than the man she’d come to love.
The way Gideon touched her, so gently, and his expression when he gazed at her, so wary and hopeful at once. The love in his eyes when he looked at Isabella, the grief in his voice when he spoke ofhis late wife…
How could such a manbe a murderer?
He couldn’t.
Whoever Gideon was, whatever secrets he held in his heart, nothing would ever persuade Cecilia he could have committed such a violent crime. But while he made her heart flutter madly in her chest, Cecilia couldn’t guess as to the state of his heart.
The one thing she did know was he was keeping secrets from her.
Who was he chasing through the castle grounds at night? Cecilia was convinced he knew the identity of the White Lady, but he hadn’t confided in her. If he cared for her at all, why was he hiding the truth from her? Or were his kisses and caresses simply a diversion while he hoped and prayed for Lady Leanora’s return to Darlington Castle? Perhaps he truly did love Lady Leanora, and had all along. His betrothal to Fanny Honeywell may have been a ruse from the start, a way to lure Lady Leanora away from her betrothed, and back to him. As forLady Cassandra…
Gideon hadn’t murdered his wife. Nothing would ever make Cecilia believe he had, or make her doubt the sincerity of his grief, but she had no way of knowing if he’d loved her or not. Mrs. Briggs had said Gideon worshipped his elder brother. Perhaps he’d hoped his marriage to Cassandra would put an end to his shameful passion for his late brother’s widow?
Cecilia’s head spun with unanswered questions, but in the end, none of it mattered. Lady Clifford had sent her to prevent Fanny Honeywell from marrying the Murderous Marquess. Miss Honeywell was gone, the betrothal broken, and now there was no longer any reason for Cecilia to remain at Darlington Castle. She’d done what she’d been sent here to do.
She’d hadn’t uncovered the whole truth, but if something darkhadhappened at Darlington Castle—if there was a mystery hidden inside these stone walls, if some evil had unfolded here—it hadn’t been at the hands of the Murderous Marquess.
Because hedidn’t exist.
Gideon was no murderer. He was a man who’d suffered unspeakable loss, who’d nearly been broken by grief, and she…she’dliedto him. To all of them. Isabella, Amy and Duncan, and Mrs. Briggs. She could never make amends to them for that, but she could leave Darlington Castle, leave Gideon in peace before this wild passion between them went any further. Before Isabella grew more attached to her, only to have Cecilia abandon her in the end.
She’d be returning to London with a wounded spirit and a shattered heart, but no good would come of her staying here any longer. Tomorrow, then. She’d give her notice tomorrow, and be on the stagecoach back toLondon before—
“Mrrarh.”
Cecilia jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. “Seraphina. Why must you creep up on me like that, you dreadful thing?”
Seraphina weaved around her legs, then darted over to the door leading into the marchioness’s bedchamber and sat, staring at Cecilia with imperious green eyes.
Cecilia pressed a weary hand to her forehead. “Not tonight, Seraphina.”
“Mrrarh.” Seraphina scratched a black paw on the wooden door, then turned back to Cecilia. “Mrrarh.”
“No, Seraphina.” Now that Cecilia had seen Cassandra’s face, snooping about her bedchamber felt like the worst kind of betrayal. “I promised Gideon I wouldn’t enter her room again, and I don’t intend to break—”
“Mrrarh.” Seraphina scrabbled frantically at the bottom edge of the door with both paws, as if trying to dig her wayunderneath it.
Cecilia frowned. “You’re insistent tonight. I’m certain the door must be locked.” She marched across the room and grabbed the latch. “See?”
But as it had every time before, the lock turned easily in her hand, and the door creaked open. Why was this door continually unlocked? It didn’t make any sense. “If I didn’t know better, I’d thinkyouhad a key,” Cecilia said, watching as Seraphina slipped through the gap in the door and into the marchioness’s bedchamber.
Seraphina paused on the other side and waited for Cecilia to follow her. Once she was certain Cecilia was doing her bidding, Seraphina disappeared into the gloom on the opposite side of the room. Cecilia cast an apprehensive glance over her shoulder before creeping after Seraphina, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
This is aterrible idea.
She half expected Gideon to leap out at her from the shadows, but all remained silent as Cecilia followed her feline guide past Lady Darlington’s bed to the dressing room at the back of the bedchamber.
Seraphina stopped when she reached the clothes press, and Cecilia huffed out a breath. “This again, Seraphina? What is your fascination with Lady Darlington’s clothes press? One would think you’d be more cautious of it after having been trapped inside.”
