felt a shot of triumph that they had succeeded thus far.
“I don’t think your dear cousin Rebecca is happy to have another relative in the house,” Allison said, lifting one of Corrie’s mended gowns out of the trunk and hanging it in the rosewood armoire in the corner.
“Apparently not.” But it didn’t really matter. Corrie was there and she meant to stay until either she had the answers to her questions or she was forced to leave.
“So what do we do now?”
She had given the matter a good deal of thought. “To begin with, since you are supposed to be a servant, I am hoping that the upper-staff will eventually accept you, and perhaps you will be able to get them to talk a bit about the scandal at Selkirk Hall. Laurel’s death would be commonly known hereabouts, though Father did his best to keep the fact of the child a secret after the medical report was made. There is always gossip in a household this size. If Laurel was involved with the earl, perhaps one of them will know.”
“That is a very good notion, Cor—I mean, Letty.”
“And I shall seek out the people who live in the house. I have yet to meet Charles. I was invited to supper, but I declined. I didn’t wish to seem too eager. And I wanted a bit of time to compose myself, perhaps take a stroll round the house. In the meantime, why don’t you go down and have some supper? I’ll see you before I retire.”
Allison left the bedroom, and Corrie, dressed in a more comfortable gown of printed blue muslin and leaving her bonnet behind, followed the carpet along the hall to the stairs at the end of the east wing. By now, supper was under way and she could move about without causing a stir. Still, she didn’t want to appear as if she might have some ulterior motive—which of course she did.
With her nerves still strung taut from her encounter with the earl, she decided to go out to the garden. Descending a narrow staircase at the end of the hall, she pushed through a door into the cool night air. It was pleasant outside the house, and she was, she discovered as she moved along the terrace, in desperate need of a calming breath of air.
The first thing she noticed was how different it was in the country at night. The air was so clean and fresh, with not a particle of soot in the gentle breeze blowing over the landscape.
She hadn’t been to the country in so many years it had never occurred to her to notice, not until tonight. Even house parties she attended had been, for the most part, held in homes at the edge of the city. Out here, the stars were so bright she could make out the constellations she had learned to name at Briarwood Academy. There was Orion, she saw, silently picking out each star, and the Big Dipper.
She wondered if Laurel had looked at the stars with Grayson Forsythe.
The thought darkened Corrie’s mood. She stepped off the terrace and began to meander along one of the paths. The garden was lush, the leaves of the thick green plants flowing over the gravel walkways lit by burning torches. There were no gas lamps out here, as there were in her father’s garden in the city, and somehow she liked the way the light flickered yellow and orange and cast dancing shadows against the leaves.
Corrie wandered the rambling paths, trying to collect her thoughts, plan her next move. She was rounding a corner of the path when she suddenly bumped headlong into a tall figure she hadn’t seen standing in the darkness. Sucking in a breath, she scrambled to keep from falling.
A big hand shot out and caught her round the waist, pulled her upright before she took an embarrassing tumble.
“Easy.”
Her stomach jerked at the sound of the deep male voice. Her gaze traveled upward, over a broad chest, up even farther to the dark, probing eyes of the earl.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked with a hint of accusation in his tone. “Why aren’t you at supper?”
“Why aren’t you?” she countered, wishing the man was anywhere except here. She caught herself. She wasn’t a reporter doing a job; she was playing a role and she had better remember that. “I mean, I wasn’t really hungry and I needed some air. It was a long ride in the carriage. I didn’t think you would mind.”
He studied her a moment, then turned his gaze toward the fountain bubbling a few feet farther down the path. “You enjoy being out-of-doors?”
Not really. She enjoyed dancing in lavish ballrooms, attending the opera, the theater, and dining in fine restaurants. At least she had until tonight.
“It’s extremely pleasant out here. I never realized how clean the air would be.”
One of his sleek black eyebrows went up. “I spoke to Charles. He said that from what he recalled, Cyrus Moss lived on a farm.”
Oh, dear Lord. “Well, yes…yes, of course, but…but there were animals, you know…and they smelled quite unpleasant, all those cows and sheep.” What in the world was the matter with her? She sounded like a complete and utter ninny. Then again, it was probably better that way. The less intelligent she seemed, the less threatening she would appear.
Tremaine’s gaze narrowed a moment, then the corners of his lips edged up—full sensuous lips that sent a funny little shiver into her stomach. “Somehow I have trouble imagining you tending a flock of sheep.”
Never had a truer statement been made. She wished she’d had more information on Cyrus. It simply wasn’t available, at least not quickly enough. “Well, I didn’t do that sort of thing. Cyrus was very protective. He barely allowed me outside the house.”
“I see. How long did you say you and Cyrus were together?”
What had she told him before? Sweet saints, she couldn’t recall. “It was not quite a year.”
For an instant his eyes seemed to sharpen, and she was terrified she had said the wrong thing.
“I suppose you miss him,” the earl continued mildly, and she relaxed once more into her role.
“Why, yes, of course I…” She meant to continue the lie, then decided it was wiser to stay closer to the truth. She would hardly miss a man who had left her high and dry as Cyrus had done! “That isn’t completely true. I know I should miss him, since he is my husband, but Cyrus was much older than I, and after the way he abandoned me, it is difficult to feel more than resentment toward him.”
“I can understand your feelings.” The earl’s gaze assessed her, moved along her throat and over her bosom, down to the span of her waist, a slow, thorough perusal that made it suddenly hard to breathe.
“You…you do?” He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the power in his tall, masculine frame.
He was wearing a clean white shirt and a pair of black trousers fitted closely, as was the style, but no coat or waistcoat. His hair was clubbed back as it had been before. Corrie realized he was a man who paid little heed to convention. Combined with the rumors she had heard, it made him terribly intriguing.
She didn’t think he was wearing cologne, and yet she caught the faint, pleasant scent of sandalwood, and wondered at the source. The fragrance seemed to wrap around her, fill each of her senses, and she trembled.
“You’re cold. Perhaps you should go back inside.”
She
