“But I will turn around and promise to keep my gaze on the ceiling, as a gentleman ought.”
“That’s no good. Mrs. Murray will come back to check on me, and now I will have to pretend to sleep. You cannot stay here.”
“Lady Katherine, need I remind you that we had an agreement? If Mrs. Murray will return, then speak quickly.”
“Come back tonight,” she said, her gaze flitting to the closed door. “Late. When the house is abed. Meet me in the library. I’m sure you know a secret way to sneak in there.”
“There’s a window. You can leave it unlocked for me. If you are not there, Lady Katherine—”
“I will be there, Your Grace.” Her gaze went to the bedchamber door again. “I want our association to end as quickly as do you.”
“Until tonight, then.” Henry turned and covered the distance to the window in three strides. He pushed it open, levered himself up, and was on the roof. The rain made the surface slippery, and he had a moment of sheer panic. It would be a fitting end if he tumbled to his death from the roof of the estate he’d lost in a dice game. The papers would call it tragic and paint him as some sort of desperate figure. But even if he wasn’t desperate, if he died now, the witch would win. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Henry summoned his resolve, turned his back to the drop, and lowered a foot in search of the trellis. Finding it, he climbed down the structure, jumping the last three feet. When he looked up at Edith’s window, Lady Katherine was looking down at him, her hand to her bare throat.
And then she was gone, and the curtains pulled closed.
Henry trudged through the mud and back to the dower house. He’d barely removed his boots and dropped them on the floor of the mudroom before he looked up and saw his mother standing before him. He started.
“Don’t fret, Henry. I’m not a ghost.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Of course not—only witches are real.” The duchess wore a high-necked gown of some sort of black crepe with a glittering ruby brooch at her throat. He thought he recognized the gown as part of her widow’s weeds. “I see you’ve noted my mourning attire.”
“Has someone died?”
“Not someone, something.”
Don’t ask, the headmaster’s voice in the back of Henry’s mind said.Ask for leave to go to your bedchamber.“And what is this thing?” he asked, because he never listened to that voice.
“Our family name. Tell me you have a plan to restore it. Tell me the gel gave you some information.”
“How do you know I saw Lady Katherine?”
“I gave you enough hints about climbing up to her window. I assumed you’d finally gotten the idea.”
Henry scowled.
“Oh, you thought it was your own idea? Sorry to disappoint.”
“No man likes to be managed, Mama.”
“Oh, I’m aware. Now, did you see her? Did she tell you why Shrewsbury set out to ruin you?”
“I saw her, but we were interrupted by her companion.”
“Ah, Mrs. Murray. She is a kind woman, but lacking in vigor. She is not a suitable companion for Lady Katherine. But then, I suppose the marquess had to make changes after the fiasco with her last companion.”
Henry had been listening halfheartedly, his mind on his grumbling stomach, but now his head came up. “Fiasco?”
“That caught your attention, I see. Well, come into the parlor and sit by the fire. I’d rather you don’t catch your death of cold before you restore the family name.”
Henry followed her to the parlor, sighing when she settled near the warm fire. “I don’t suppose—”
His mother gave him an annoyed look but rang the bell for tea. “I forget how young men are always hungry.”
“Mama, tell me about this fiasco.”
