Lord Hawkridge's Secret. Anne Ashley

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Lord Hawkridge's Secret - Anne Ashley Mills & Boon Historical

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across at the sofa, where Sarah sat busily hemming the last few inches of her new gown, and frowned as something odd occurred to her.

      ‘Sarah, did Sir George Maynard ever question you about that unfortunate incident last week?’

      ‘No. Why do you ask?’

      ‘Because it seems to me he’s taken the murder of that stranger very lightly. Which is most unlike him. He’s usually so conscientious. He returned from London four days ago, but hasn’t made the least attempt to question me again.’

      Sarah shrugged. ‘Perhaps he doesn’t think there’s anything further you can tell him.’

      ‘Ah, but there is!’ Emily enlightened her, closing her book and tossing it aside. ‘You see I’ve been thinking about the incident a good deal, and I now recall precisely what the stranger said to me before he died.’

      ‘In that case why don’t you inform Sir George?’ Sarah suggested, exhibiting her usual sound good sense. ‘He’ll be at the party tomorrow night. And so too shall I now that my new gown is finished!’ she added, her mind swiftly turning to far more important matters as far as she was concerned. She held the garment at arm’s length the better to survey the finished result. ‘I cannot thank you enough for all the work you did on this. If it hadn’t been for you I’d never have finished it in time.’

      ‘If you must thank someone, then thank Budd,’ Emily responded, refusing to take the credit. ‘She did most of the work on it, not I.’

      ‘In that case I shall make a point of doing so. Your housekeeper’s an absolute treasure!’

      ‘I’m very well aware of it,’ Emily assured her. ‘If it hadn’t been for dear old Budd I’d have been saddled with a duenna, would you believe?’

      Sarah frankly laughed. ‘For someone who enjoyed a deal of freedom throughout her childhood, far more than most girls are privileged to experience, I cannot imagine you would have taken too kindly to having your treasured independence drastically curtailed by a chaperon.’

      ‘How well you know me, my dear. No, I should not!’ Emily admitted. ‘Fortunately Budd stepped into the breach by suggesting that she keep an eye on me until a suitable duenna was found. Whether grandfather then forgot the idiotic notion, or was happy to leave matters as they were, I’m not certain.

      ‘Oh, yes, I’m very well aware that Lady Deverel, among several others hereabouts, thinks it highly improper for a young woman of my age not to be suitably chaperoned,’ Emily went on when she detected her friend’s wry grin. ‘But it’s nonsensical, Sarah. I live with my grandfather, a venerable, elderly gentleman of sober habits. All right, I’ll admit that a cook-housekeeper might not be considered by most as an ideal chaperon, but no one could suggest that dear Mrs Budd isn’t respectable.’

      ‘That’s true enough,’ Sarah was forced to agree.

      ‘And since my arrival, of course, we’ve added to the household staff by employing Amy, the parlourmaid, and one of the village girls who comes in every day to help with the cleaning, so Budd isn’t precisely overworked, and is able to spend time with me when the need arises. And as I somehow acquired the running of the household, the servants usually come directly to me for instructions, so things go along pretty smoothly, and everyone is happy.’

      Once again Sarah was unable to suppress a smile. ‘In other words you ruled the roost not long after taking up residence here, and have not called upon Budd’s services too often, I suspect.’

      ‘There’s been absolutely no need for me to do so,’ Emily wasn’t slow to point out. ‘But she’s always on hand on those rare occasions when younger gentlemen call at the house and the proprieties need to be observed. And then, of course, the instant I step outside Jonas Finn appears. He’s worse than six duennas!’

      She frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to her. ‘It wasn’t by any chance Lady Deverel who suggested to Grandfather that I ought to have my own personal groom, was it?’

      ‘I cannot recall her ever mentioning it, no. What makes you ask?’

      Puzzled, Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve always thought it most odd that Grandfather should have thought of employing a personal groom for me. It isn’t the sort of thing that would cross his mind. Come to that, I’m rather surprised he ever considered employing a duenna. I wonder which interfering busybody was responsible for putting such an idiotic notion into his head in the first place?’

      As no immediate candidate sprang to mind, Emily didn’t dwell on the conundrum over long, and turned her head to gaze briefly through the French windows at the very pleasing sight of the garden beyond the terrace bathed in bright April sunshine. ‘I do hope the weather remains fair. We can go out riding again tomorrow if it does.’

      She turned back in time to catch a faint frown puckering her friend’s brow. ‘What is it, Sarah? You said how much you enjoyed our ride this morning.’

      ‘Yes, I did,’ she readily confirmed. ‘I haven’t ridden in such a long time. And I should dearly like to join you again, except…except tomorrow I promised Godmama that I would return to the Hall and help with the flower arrangements.’

      Emily managed to suppress a snort of derision, but could not resist saying, ‘Oh, Sarah, I despair of you sometimes.’

      Grey eyes clearly betrayed puzzlement. ‘But why? There will be plenty of opportunities to go riding while I remain here. I really did enjoy this morning’s exercise, and it was so kind of you to loan me one of your habits.’

      ‘I’d let you keep the wretched thing if I thought there was the remotest possibility of your making use of it after you return to the Hall.’

      Striving to maintain a firm grasp on a temper which sadly could on occasions erupt with quite surprising force, Emily rose to her feet and went to stand before the window. ‘Are you honestly trying to tell me that Lady Deverel and the divine Drusilla, with the help of an army of servants, are incapable of arranging a few vases of flowers?’

      ‘Of course not. But Godmama considers that I have a flair for such things and particularly requested me to do the flowers for Drusilla’s birthday party.’

      ‘You are at that confounded family’s beck and call from dawn till dusk!’ Emily exclaimed, not so successful this time in putting a guard on her tongue, and Sarah was clearly surprised by the depth of contempt.

      ‘But—but I thought you liked the Deverels?’

      Emily swung round, determined now to speak her mind. ‘Lady Deverel is undeniably a charming woman, and I do like her, yes. But even you cannot deny she’s dreadfully indolent. I always rubbed along very well with her late husband. But Drusilla’s nothing more than a spoilt beauty, too accustomed to having her own way. And getting it too! And Charles is an utter clodpole for not exerting more authority over his household since coming into the title.’

      ’emily, how can you say so?’ Sarah retorted, betraying a surprising show of annoyance for someone whose disposition was in general very placid. ‘Charles is a most thoughtful, charming gentleman. He never fails to offer his thanks for the small tasks I perform. And he isn’t a clodpole!’

      Not unduly surprised by this display of staunch loyalty on Sarah’s part, Emily turned to stare out of the window once more, thereby concealing a wickedly knowing smile.

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