Rules of Attraction (26 page)

"I found a heavy piece of trim nearby, broken off from somewhere. We speculated it had fallen from the rafters, but if it had, it had fallen long ago, for the broken wood was not clean, but dark with dust and smoke."

Dougald stalked to Charles and stared down at him. "What did Hannah say about that?"

"The blow stunned
Madame
and she did not notice. I asked one of the workmen where it had come from. He said it matched the trim on the rafters." Charles pointed up with his forefinger. "On the rafters in the great hall."

"So it was thrown."

Charles lifted a shoulder. "
Oui
, I suspect."

Anger swept like a chill across Dougald. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"You didn't wish to hear me say another word about
Madame
. Not a word."

Charles delivered his answer with scarcely a hint of triumph, a feat Dougald gave him credit for, for Dougald well remembered that day in his office and the mandate he had given Charles. "Very well, Charles. I deserved that."

"Yes, my lord." Charles took a quick breath. "But that is the reason I urged that care be taken in the restorations. I feared another accident."

"Thank you." But Dougald could never forget Charles's part in driving Hannah away the first time.

"Still I wonder why you do it."

"Do you wonder? Don't you see?" Charles's accent strengthened as he grew excited. "It is my dearest wish that you and
Madame
reunite. I have done everything in my power to make it so."

"Why?" Dougald asked flatly.

"She must come and be your true wife. You are unhappy while she is alive and elsewhere, but you will not consider a divorce." Charles looked down his long nose at Dougald. "Or if she will not return to you, she must die so you may be free."

Ah. Now they got to the root of the matter. "I would rather not face another murder charge."

"No! My lord, I did not mean that
you
should kill her. This accusation of murder already sets you beyond the realm of polite society. You cannot wed another, better young maiden if her father believes you will slay her." Charles smiled with obviously false cheer. "So it must be reconciliation."

"Live with me as my wife or I will kill you? There's a proposal every woman wants to hear."

"But you don't have to kill her, my lord. Someone is willing to do it for you."

Charles's blunt reminder sent Dougald to his seat. He sank down and tried once more to face the depths of this disaster. "So Hannah is in danger because of me?"

"A son born of you and
Madame
will eliminate Sir Onslow's chances of inheritance. Somehow it must be Sir Onslow."

Dougald could face danger. He felt nothing but contempt for the coward who had made an assault on his life. But to try to kill Hannah… No. No. "Is Seaton in the house now?"

"No, my lord, he is gone for the day to Conniff Manor."

"When he returns, I wish to speak with him."

"May I be there, my lord?"

Dougald exchanged a grim smile with his valet. "Indeed, I depend on your presence. Seaton does not currently fear me."

"This indifference on his part can change."

"Yes. I think it must. But until I speak to him, make him confess, we have to watch over Hannah."

"My lord, I have been watching every chance I get. But it's not possible. She flits here and there, up and down stairs. She speaks to everyone, she is everyone's friend." From Charles's sneer, it was clear he didn't approve. "There are workmen here, strangers. Any of them could have been hired to harm her. Or it could be someone we know— one of the servants, Mrs. Trenchard, Alfred—"

"You."

"Me?" Charles's impressive nostrils flared, and in the sarcastic tone at which the French excelled, he said, "Of course, it could be me. But if I wished to kill her, I have passed up many a chance."

Maybe not to kill her, Dougald thought. Maybe just to send her away— again. He looked at Charles, at the drooping face, the bulbous nose, the scanty hairs on his head. After that last time when Charles had worked so hard to get rid of Hannah— how could Dougald ever completely trust him again?

As if Charles read his mind, Charles said, "You must send her away, my lord."

"She won't go." And Dougald didn't trust her enough to tell her why she must. Not only would she not leave— her affection for the aunts, her duty to the Queen, even, perhaps, her passion for him would keep her here— but also the Hannah who had come into this house was different than the youthful Hannah. She decided on a course of action and performed that action with sense and determination. If she decided she could help Dougald find the culprit, she would insist on doing so. And when Dougald thought about Hannah bravely confronting that little jackass Seaton with his hidden degeneracy… well, she wouldn't do it, because Dougald wouldn't tell her.

In an exasperated tone, Charles said, "I cannot watch over her and you, and you know who I will favor if I am driven to make a choice."

Yes, Dougald knew, and nothing he could say would change Charles's loyalty to him.

"You can make her go." Palms on the desk, Charles leaned forward and stared with grave sincerity at Dougald. "You know how."

"Yes." Until Dougald had positively identified the guilty party, and dealt with him, he did have to send her away. With grim intent, he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a packet of letters tied in a faded, pink ribbon. "But it's going to wreak hell with our reconciliation."

21

T
he aunts stood around Hannah's bed and stared at her with a curiosity that bordered on suspicion.

"Explain again, dear, how you came to trip on the stairs going up to the workroom," Aunt Isabel said. "I couldn't hear you the first time. You mumble something dreadful."

Hannah hadn't mumbled; in fact, she had mastered the art of speaking slowly and loudly so Aunt Isabel could hear her. But she could hardly challenge the older lady's truthfulness, so she said, "I was carrying a new box of yarns up the stairs and I tripped on my skirt."

"Um-hum." Aunt Ethel nodded.

"Such a
big
box," Aunt Spring said.

"Why didn't you have a footman carry it up for you?" Aunt Isabel asked.

"The footmen were all so busy with the construction and the cleaning, I hated to take one away from his duties. I know better now." Hannah tucked her striped, faded, flannel dressing gown tighter about her and gestured toward the chair. "I wasn't expecting guests, but please, won't somebody sit down?"

"No, dear, we're more comfortable standing," Miss Minnie said.

Miss Minnie meant they were more able to peer intimidatingly at her while they stood. The swelling in Hannah's ankle was less painful than this interrogation.

Sitting up straighter against the pillows, Hannah attempted to turn the conversation. "Thank you for the flowers, Aunt Ethel." The cut-glass vase rested on the bed table, and Hannah touched the delicate petals of a pink rose. "They're beautiful."

Aunt Ethel beamed, easily won over by the praise for her blossoms. "I'll bring you more tomorrow." Aunt Spring nudged her and recalled her to her duty. "Oh! Yes." Aunt Ethel fixed a frown on Hannah. "You were telling us about your fall."

"There's nothing else to tell." Hannah attempted a free and easy shrug. "How are the plans proceeding for the reception?"

Aunt Isabel patted her newly dyed, very black hair. "Lord and Lady McCarn sent their gracious assent, as did the Dempsters. Sir Stokes and Lady Gwen won't miss it, and—"

Miss Minnie interrupted, "It would be faster to say that everyone has accepted."

"Everyone?" Hannah thought of her grandparents and clasped her hands. She was going to meet them at last. The swelling in her foot was diminishing. She thought she would easily be able to wear shoes by the Queen's reception. For that she was grateful; she wanted to look perfect when she met the Burroughses.

Aunt Isabel snapped to attention. "Yes, it would be faster to say that, and of course we will be prepared with food and drink suitable for a Queen. If only you were well, Miss Setterington."

"Thank you, I am well. When Mrs. Trenchard checked on me this morning, she said I could rise tomorrow so long as I use a cane." Hannah chafed at the time in bed. "How is the work on the tapestry going?"

"We have less than five days until Her Majesty's visit. I don't know if we can finish in time." Aunt Spring shook her head dolefully. "Not without the case of yarns we need. Oh, but you said it came." She put her finger to her chin. "Where did you put it?"

Hannah pleated the folds of her skirt and wondered why she ever thought she could lie to these women. For the first time since her mother died, she faced chiding eyes and felt the sting of guilt. "I dropped it when I fell. Perhaps someone else picked it up." The yarns had been scheduled for delivery yesterday. The case had to be in the castle somewhere, didn't it? Heaven help her if it had failed to arrive.

"We'll ask Mrs. Trenchard." Miss Minnie made the simple sentence sound threatening.

But Hannah approved of that idea. Mrs. Trenchard would lie for her if necessary. Mrs. Trenchard wouldn't want the aunts worrying, either.

"Yes, I'll speak to Judy," Aunt Spring said. "She and I are like twins."

Taken aback, Hannah blinked. "Like twins… how?"

"My mother died, you know, so her mother was my wet nurse." Aunt Spring pointed to herself. "We're the same age."

"You… are?" For some reason, Hannah had thought Aunt Spring to be older than Mrs. Trenchard. Mrs. Trenchard was so sturdy and capable, able to propel a staff of fifty servants, while Aunt Spring was… Aunt Spring. Vague, eccentric, eternally kind.

Aunt Spring forgot the drive for truth and perched on the edge of Hannah's bed to gossip. "We were raised like sisters. In my youth, dear Judy was my constant companion. She always watched out for me, even when I was grown. Even after she was married. Why, if not for her, I could have never met Lawrence in secret—"

"Miss Spring!" Mrs. Trenchard stood in the doorway. "Ye're not to say such things. We don't want yer reputation to suffer."

"Pshaw. What matter is my reputation? Lawrence was my true and only love." Then, in a sudden switch to a pragmatism, Aunt Spring said, "I'm far too old to marry, anyway."

Mrs. Trenchard edged into the tiny, crowded room. "Now, Miss Spring, that's not true. Men are lined up just waiting for ye to give them the nod."

"
I
haven't laid eyes on any of the old dotards," Miss Minnie said tartly. "Spring has faced that her matrimonial prospects are finished, Trenchard. Why can't you?"

A retort clearly hovered on the tip of Mrs. Trenchard's tongue, but something— respect for Aunt Spring or fear of Miss Minnie— stopped her. After a silent, uncomfortable moment, she said, "Miss Setterington, I have come to examine yer foot. Lord Raeburn wants to know if ye can rise today."

"I remember!" In a sudden return to business, Aunt Spring put her hands on her hips. "Judy, how did Miss Setterington get hurt?"

"I told you," Hannah said, "I tripped going up the stairs."

"I asked Judy," Aunt Spring said irritably.

"I wasn't there when Miss Setterington fell." Mrs. Trenchard twisted her hands in her apron and refused to meet Aunt Spring's gaze.

"You found her at the bottom of the stairs?" Miss Minnie asked.

Mrs. Trenchard looked around as if she were trapped, and her Lancashire accent broadened. "Not quite at the bottom."

From the doorway, Dougald said harshly, "That's enough, aunts. I'd like to speak to Miss Setterington."

Four sets of bright eyes fixed on him.

"Go ahead, dear," Aunt Ethel invited.

"Alone," he clarified.

"I can't believe you expect us to let you do that," Miss Minnie said in her severest tone.

"It's most improper," Aunt Isabel added.

"But we will allow it!" Aunt Spring jumped to her feet. "Come on, girls. Let's leave these children alone."

With indecent haste, the aunts filed to the door. One by one they squeezed past Dougald.

Aunt Isabel was the last one out. In a piercing whisper, she said to Dougald, "By the way, dear, you might think of moving dear Hannah to a different bedchamber. This one is frightfully dilapidated." With a quick glance back at Hannah, she added, "Perhaps your bedchamber would do."

As Aunt Isabel whisked from the room, Hannah considered banging her head on the bedpost. Bad enough that Dougald should ask to see her alone, but for the aunts to agree! For Aunt Isabel to say something so salacious! And all in front of the housekeeper. Hannah didn't know how to meet the woman's gaze.

Before Dougald could step forward, Aunt Ethel returned. "Come along, Mrs. Trenchard."

"She will stay," Dougald said. When Aunt Ethel would have challenged him, he turned his dark head and looked at her.

She skittered back as if she had discovered in his face the venom of a serpent. In a frightened whisper, she said, "As you wish, my lord." With one wide-eyed glance of sympathy at Hannah, she hurried away.

As he turned back, Hannah saw why. He stood on the threshold, a solid, black-clad entity with a grim face and flat green eyes. "Lord Raeburn? Is anything wrong?"

He ignored her. "Can she rise today, Mrs. Trenchard?"

Mrs. Trenchard took Hannah's hurt foot in her hand. "Aye, my lord. That she can."

A remarkable diagnosis, Hannah thought, considering she hadn't even looked at it.

"Very good," he said. "Mrs. Trenchard, you may go."

"Wait." Hannah caught the housekeeper's hand.

"Did the tapestry yarns arrive?"

Mrs. Trenchard glanced nervously at Dougald, but she answered, "This afternoon. They're up in the workroom now."

"If the aunts ask, I was carrying them yesterday when I fell."

Mrs. Trenchard nodded, then hurried out of the room as if the hounds of hell chased her.

Something was going on that Hannah didn't understand. She struggled to turn and put her feet on the floor. "Dougald. What is it?"