turned and saw him, standing in the entrance, and gave a hurrumph of frustration at his lack of manners. ‘There you are, Timothy. Come into the room and meet Miss Collins.’
‘Miss Collins.’ He bowed, stiffly, from the waist.
The young woman stood as he entered, and responded with a curtsy, and a cool and professional smile. ‘Lord Colton.’
‘I understand you have been retained by the Duchess to see to the care of my children. It is so nice to finally meet my new employee.’ He gave her a pointed look to tell her he had seen her hiding in the hall, and was annoyed by it and the Duchess’s handling of the whole affair.
‘And to finally meet my employer.’ She responded with a look that seemed to convey her opinion of a man who cared so little for his own family that he would leave such an important decision to a neighbour.
Their eyes locked, as though in battle. For a moment, he was convinced that she had heard the voices in his head as clearly as he did himself, for she looked both disapproving and disgusted, though it was only their first meeting. Perhaps he deserved her censure. But it angered him, all the same. So he held her gaze far longer than was proper, until he was sure that she knew who was master and who was servant. At last, she broke away and cast her eyes downward. He gave a small nod of satisfaction, and said, ‘Welcome to my home. And now, if you will excuse me?’ And he left the room with Penny dumbfounded and his pride intact.
‘That man,’ muttered the Duchess in frustration and gave a small stamp of her foot.
‘Indeed.’ Daphne swallowed, trying to control the strange feeling she had had, as her cousin’s husband had smiled at her. He had stared at her far too long, until the look in his eyes had gone from sullen to seductive. He had looked at her as a wolf might look at a lamb.
She was sure that the Duchess had not seen the worst of it, thinking the man had been rude and not threatening. For when she turned to Daphne, she had a grim smile that said she would not be crossed in this, no matter how stubborn the master of the house might be. ‘Lord Colton has proved difficult on the subject of his children’s care.’
‘They are his children,’ Daphne said softly, rather surprised at how little the Duchess seemed to care about the fact.
‘Of course,’ the Duchess responded. ‘But recent events have left him all but unfit to care for them. As a close friend of the family, I feel a responsibility to help him through this difficult time.’
‘You knew Lady Colton?’ Daphne smiled eagerly. She might have an ally, if the woman had also known Clare.
‘I knew her. Yes.’ And now the Duchess’s look was one of distaste. She offered nothing more, before changing the subject. ‘But come, you must be eager to see the nursery wing and meet your charges.’ She rose quickly and preceded Daphne to the door and out into the hall, as though the merest mention of the children’s mother hung in the air like a bad smell.
As they walked up the main stairs, Daphne paused for a moment and glanced behind her. So this was where it had happened. She could almost imagine her cousin, who had been so full of life, lying dead below her on the floor of the entry. She shook off the image to further examine the scene of the crime. Smooth marble treads, and an equally smooth banister that might have denied an adequate grip to the woman who had struggled here.
She glanced at the floor to see faint proof that a rug had been present and was now removed. So the poor carpet had taken the blame. A loose corner, a trip and a fall. Perfectly ordinary. Most unfortunate.
But Daphne believed none of it. Clare had used the stairs for twelve years without so much as a stumble. There was nothing to be afraid of, if someone was not here to push you down. When she was finished in this house, everyone would know the truth and Clare would be avenged.
The Duchess did not notice her pause, absorbed by her own thoughts, which did not concern the unfortunate death of the mistress of the house. She gave a helpless little shrug. ‘I might as well tell you, before we go any further, that there is a small problem that I have been unable to deal with.’
‘Really.’ There were many problems with this house, and none of them small. Daphne wondered what would incite the Duchess to comment, if the death of Clare had not.
‘In my letter to you, I promised something I could not give. The bedroom just off the nursery is the one intended for the governess. Convenient to the classroom, and next to little Sophie should she need you in the night.’
Daphne nodded.
‘The oldest girl, Lily, has taken the room as her own. I have been unable to dislodge her from it. The two older children care deeply for the littlest girl. And in the absence of a regular governess they have taken the duties of Sophie’s care upon themselves.’ For a moment, the Duchess looked distressed, nearly to tears over the plight of the children.
Forgetting her station, Daphne reached out a hand to the woman, laying an arm over her shoulders. ‘It will be all right, I’m sure.’ It was comforting to see that the Duchess cared so deeply for the children, for it made her actions in the Colton house seem much less suspicious.
The Duchess sniffed, as though fighting back her emotion. ‘Thank you for understanding.’ She walked to the end of the hall and opened the door to the servants’ stairs, looking up a flight. ‘There is a small room at the top of the house. Only fit for a maid, really. But it is very close to the children. And yet, very private. There is nothing at all on this side of the house but the attics, and the one little place under the eaves. And it is only until you can persuade Lily to return to her own room.’
Daphne looked up the narrow, unlit staircase, to the lone door at the top. ‘I’m sure it will be adequate.’ It would be dreadful. But it was only for a few weeks. And living so simply would help her remember her position.
‘Shall we go and meet the children now? I have sent word that they are to wait for us in the schoolroom.’ She led the way past two bedrooms, which must be Sophie’s and the one Lily had usurped, to a small but well-stocked classroom. There were desks and tables, with a larger desk at one end for her, maps and pictures upon the walls and many shelves for books.
Remembering how she had felt as a child when cooped up in a similar room, Daphne was overcome with a sudden desire to slip away from the Duchess, to lead her in hide and seek or some other diversion. Anything that might prolong the time before she must pick up a primer.
The children lined up obediently in front of her, by order of age. Daphne felt a surprising lump form in her throat. They were all the picture of her beloved Clare. Red hair, pale complexions, fine features and large green eyes. Some day, the two girls would be beauties, and the boy would be a handsome rakehell.
The rush of emotion surprised her. She felt a sudden, genuine fondness for the children that she had not expected. She did not normally enjoy the company of the young. But these were the only part of her cousin that still remained. She had to overcome the urge to talk to them of the woman they both knew, and to reveal her relation to them. Surely it would be a comfort to them all to know that Clare was not forgotten?
But then she looked again. The light behind their eyes was the same suspicious glint she had seen in the man behind the desk on the floor below. They had also inherited the stubborn set of his jaw. Without speaking a word to each other, she watched them close ranks against her. They might smile and appear co-operative. And her heart might soften for the poor little orphans that Clare had left behind. But that should not
