Part 11 (1/2)
But would asking the squire do any good? He considered her an unorthodox hoyden who lacked any sense of propriety. It was a wonder that he condescended to speak with her.
His smile was distinctly superior. ”So gallant. I will escort you to see the ruins.”
She started to object, but he continued without pause. ”Northrup can chaperon his sisters. His return finally gives you the freedom to enjoy yourself.”
”I have always enjoyed myself,” she countered, irritated by his patronizing tone. Perhaps stretching the truth would get the information she wanted. ”When Justin returned, he asked me a question I could not answer. You examined the road where Frederick fell. Did he roll into the quarry, or did he walk off the edge?”
”It doesn't matter, my dear. You are well rid of that wastrel. And so is Northrup, Reviving such ancient history serves no purpose. It is time to put the past behind you.”
”His question piqued my curiosity. I want to know,” she insisted, making a mental note to inform Justin of his interest ”I would rather not remember him as a being too foxed to see where he was stepping.”
He shrugged. ”I couldn't say. And it really does not matter. Darkness would have obscured his view even had he been sober. Shall we climb to the battlements?”
”Not today. I promised to help Lady Granger organize the children's games.” It was another lie, but she would learn nothing useful. And he was unusually tense today. Enjoy yourself. Would he be the latest to offer her carte blanche? He had rejected the rumors in the past, but his proprietary glances were making her nervous.
His face darkened, but he turned toward the lake-by way of the woods. His insistent flirting intensified her unease as he complimented her gown, her dinner party, and the pretty manners displayed by the girls she had raised.
What had gotten into the man? His wife had been her closest friend, and he had advised her on estate matters when she had first a.s.sumed control, using her willingness to solicit help to excuse her intrusion into men's business. She had been grateful and had long considered him a friend, but he was not acting like a friend today.
”I have long admired you, my dear,” he said at last. ”Had my father not contracted me to Constance, I would have offered for you years ago.”
She recoiled, berating herself for her blindness. Constance had died two years earlier, without providing him an heir. Her own bereavement just as he was emerging from mourning must have given him ideas.
She muttered imprecations under her breath. If only she had realized his thinking sooner, she could have turned his eyes elsewhere. She had no intention of wedding again. Ever.
She opened her mouth, but he gave her no chance to protest.
”Now we can both leave the past behind, taking what should have been ours ten years ago. You will make me the happiest of men by accepting my hand in marriage.”
”I wish you had not brought this up, sir.” She kept her tone very formal. ”I have too many responsibilities to consider marriage.”
”You take too much on yourself, Mary,” he protested, interrupting. ”Northrup will a.s.sume all those responsibilities- which is only right and proper. If Frederick had not forced you into taking over such unladylike ch.o.r.es, you would never have attracted the attention of malicious tongues. But you can finally resume a lady's proper pastimes and forget all those indignities.”
”I am sorry, sir, but I am quite content with my life and have no plans to remarry now or in the future. While I am honored by your consideration, I cannot accept your offer.”
”Fustian. If Northrup expects you to continue slaving for him, I will set the lad straight.”
”You are misinformed,” she said icily. ”My activities are mine by choice. And pressing a failed suit because you dislike my answer belies your standing as a gentleman.”
His eyes narrowed, but even her insult did not distract him. They argued for another five minutes before he would accept her refusal-for the moment; his parting words implied that she remained mired in unnecessary grief but would soon come to her senses.
As she left him, two things were clear. Their friends.h.i.+p would not survive this confrontation. And she could never trust his judgment again. He saw only what he expected to see. Since he had formed a tendre, he a.s.sumed she reciprocated. Because he believed ladies should live lives of frivolous leisure, he supposed her to yearn for an end to her estate duties.
Which led to new questions about Frederick's death. Within moments of finding the body, Isaac had concluded that the death had been an accident. Had he then overlooked evidence to the contrary?
Perhaps she was doing him an injustice, but she doubted it. So where did that leave her? The answer to that simple question should have disproved James's suspicions. Now other questions reared their ugly little heads. Frederick had known that road better than the drive leading to Northfield. If his senses had been so disturbed that he could walk off a cliff, how had he stayed in the saddle long enough to cover the three miles from the l.u.s.ty Maiden to the quarry? And if Isaac's impressions were worthless, could she believe anything he said about John's murder?
By the time she returned to the company, Amelia was walking with Mr. Crenshaw, and Caro was talking animatedly with Sir Edwin.
”The ruins gvgd view,” she was saying as Mary approached.
Mary cringed, but Sir Edwin did not seem to mind. ”The view must be lovely from the top,” he agreed soothingly, stroking the hand that lay on his arm. ”And the lake also looks inviting. Which would you prefer first? A boat ride would be wondrously relaxing.”
His tone calmed her. Mary was amazed. He was the first one outside the family to truly accept Caro's problem.
”The lake,” Caro decided, glancing at Mary for permission.
”Enjoy yourself,” Mary said.
They had hardly moved out of sight when James brought her a gla.s.s of lemonade. ”Edwin will take good care of her.”
”I know.” She sipped her drink, wondering how he had sensed her uncertainties. ”Have you seen Justin?”
”He headed for the ruins a quarter hour past, in company with two gentlemen wearing yellow pantaloons. They were discussing dungeons.”
”The Adams brothers.” She bit back a sigh. If Justin had teamed up with them, he was unlikely to return before refreshments were served. But the squire would not be in the dungeons, so she could speak with Justin later.
Or could she? She must never try to antic.i.p.ate Isaac's actions again.
What a mess. The last thing she needed was a suitor. Justin must discourage Isaac's courts.h.i.+p. And he must also press for every detail about Frederick's death. Even if Isaac's conclusions were faulty, he might have noticed something useful.
She was beginning to think James was right. So she must find Justin as soon as possible. Urgency and a sense of impending doom were tickling the back of her neck.
”Don't run off,” James begged, again reading her mind. ”I must remain occupied so Sir Maxwell does not foist his daughter on me.”
Isaac was speaking with Sir Maxwell, she noted, so she could delay seeking Justin for the moment. ”Very well. You may use me as your escape, though Lucy is not quite as bad as she seems. Company has a way of bringing out her worst behavior.”
”Is that what you told Northrup? He is of an age to settle down.”
She shuddered.
”So I thought,” he said, chuckling. ”But you cannot protect him by casting me to the wolves.”
”I would never go that far.” But he was right. She had been excusing Lucy's manners in hopes that someone would remove her from the area.
And him. That unwanted attraction tugged harder with each 'meeting. And he must know it, for he dressed to draw her eyes. Today's cravat jewel was a deep-hued emerald that perfectly matched his forest green coat, and raised green glints in his dark eyes. s.h.i.+vers rolled down her arms, making her glad she had chosen an unfas.h.i.+onable long-sleeved gown to hide her unladylike tan.
”Have you learned anything since we last talked?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject as they wandered away from the crowd.
”Very little. No one discusses John, even six months after his death. No rumors have ever hinted that Frederick might have been helped into the quarry. But if you are right, I cannot ask questions without risking a reprisal. Killers do not want people poking into their affairs.”
”I had not considered that.” He frowned. ”Perhaps you should stay out of this.”
”No. But I will be careful. And I did learn one fact. Squire Church is unreliable.”
”Are you sure?”
”It is something I should have realized sooner. He ignores anything that does not fit his perceptions. And he is so convinced that his perceptions are right that he rarely questions them.”