“Yes, very much, thank you,” Cleo nodded. “I most enjoyed the selection of books left by my bedside.”
“Ah, yes.The Lady of the Lakeby Sir Walter Scott is one of my favorites. Have you read it?”
“Yes, many times,” Cleo smiled through her tear blurred eyes. “My father and I read it many times together.”
“Do you have a favorite passage?” The Earl inquired politely.
Cleo told him of her father’s quoting the passages from the poem and how it had shaped her affection for the text. “And you? Do you have a favorite?”
The Earl nodded and cleared his throat before he began to recite, standing a bit taller as he did so, his voice taking on a deep baritone. It had a dreamy haunting romantic quality to it that added depth to the passage.
“The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.”
Cleo arched her brows in surprise. “You, My Lord, possess a far more romantic soul than I would have guessed.
The Earl chuckled in amusement at her admittance. “Yes, much to my father’s chagrin. My father had the heart of a warrior, while his son much preferred the ways of the poet. Your own dear father had a hand in that.”
“There is naught amiss with such musings. It is quite lovely, truth be told. I am glad that my father left such a mark upon your mind and heart.”
“More than you will ever know,” he murmured, his eyes taking on a far-off look that reminded her that here was a man who shared in her sorrow.
I have judged him too harshly. Aunt Caroline is right. I could choose a far worse companion to share my life with.
For some strange reason that she could not explain, the thought made her feel disloyal to Arthur MacDonald, but she shoved the thought away as quickly as it had come. She had no allegiance or romantic affection for either man, and as far as she was concerned, it needed to remain that way. She did not have the time or the energy to invest in romantic attachments no matter how handsome or charming either of them might be.
I must solve the mystery of my father’s murder and the messages that he left for me to find. He would not have left them for me if he did not think that I could decipher them, and I am determined not to let him down. I will bring his killer to justice, no matter what it takes, no matter how lonely the road is ahead.
Chapter 13
Cleo walked into the kitchen with the Earl at her side and prayed that the maid had not already washed her things. Not only did she not wish to have the paper destroyed so that she could go over it word for word with Arthur when she finally saw him for fear of forgetting a detail of it, but the ink from the paper would ruin her dress if washed within the pocket. She also did not wish for the maid to discover the hidden pocket and its contents. The last thing that she needed was the gossip of servants.
“Just through here is where the maids do the laundry if memory serves me correctly from when I was but a young boy. I have not been below stairs in many years.”
Cleo followed the Earl into the kitchen and through a door into a smaller back room filled with tubs and all of the accoutrements that were necessary for the scrubbing of clothing. There in a basket of dirty linens lay Cleo’s dress. They had made it in time. Sighing in relief, Cleo gathered up her dress, feeling the somewhat harder piece of folded paper press against the palm of her hand through the thin lavender fabric.
“Are you certain that you do not wish for my maids to wash it? I can assure you that they would treat it with the utmost care. I can see that the dusty carriage ride has left its mark upon the skirt.”
“Perhaps tomorrow, but for now, I simply wish to have it close to me. The nights can be quite lonely as it is in the quiet dark hours that the memories flood the mind causing a great pain of the heart and soul.” Cleo’s words sounded quite convincing even to her own ears, because in their very essence they were the truth.
“Indeed,” the Earl nodded, the expression on his face telling her that he knew the feeling all too well. “I will see you back to your room now then, shall I?”
“Yes, thank you, My Lord.”
“Please, call me Brandon.”
“I am not certain that such is appropriate, My Lord.”
“Of course, you must act according to your own conscience, but I would very much like it if you called me by my given name. I understand that it does not fit with accepted decorum, but as our fathers were friends, and I would very much like it if we too became friends, I do not see the harm in it.”
“As much as I appreciate the compliment, and it indeed is a compliment I assure you, for proprieties sake I feel it would be best if we maintained the accepted formalities.”
“I suppose that I did not choose the best time to ask given that you are clad in your nightclothes,” the Earl replied with a slight grimace of embarrassment.
