Lady Jane raised a brow at her niece. “You see? His Grace has been thinking it, and I am mortified, even though, in your position, I would hold the exact same suspicions... While Ididhope Margaret would find a suitable husband, I swear I told no one of her stay with you that night. And Mr. Plim, who is still my most steadfast servant, would never have disgraced her either.I do not know who wrote the press with the story, but such disloyalty is appalling.”
“Lady Jane,” Margaret scolded, before addressing Alexander. “Well, there is no use lying, is there? That is partly what we were discussing before you arrived—the situation with the press. I told you it was not Lady Jane, though it hardly matters now, does it? Really, the whole ordeal should be put to bed.”
“If that is your decision,” Lady Jane said. “But you know what I think, Margaret, and what I would do in your shoes...”
“Do go on, Lady Jane,” Alexander insisted, a little amused, a little jaded. He cast a discreet glance at his pocket watch, and when Margaret noticed, he saw her glower.
“If such a thing happened to me or my Helena, I would not rest until I had located the traitor and had them flogged. In this instance, things have turned out quite admirably for you both. But one does not sit on a sinking ship and not bother searching for holes. Bad things come in twos. Now, I am not suggesting you have any other secrets to profit from. No, never. But is it not better to be prepared, to discover the orchestrator of such a betrayal, the rat, before they strike again?”
“Dudley should have recruited you for the fundraising committee,” Alexander joked. But it wasn’t a laughing matter. There was sense in Lady Jane’s warning words, behind her theatrics. “It is something to consider.”
“That is all I ask,” Lady Jane replied, satisfied. She grabbed Miss Talbot’s arm, evidently preparing to leave. “Now I have said my piece, I will leave you be.”
Alexander and Margaret watched as Lady Jane guided her niece away. The wind swept up again, carrying the scent of blackthorn blossom and faraway tea. He sighed, eyeing Margaret with curiosity.
“Gossiping behind a cathedral?”
“It is not a sin,” she replied playfully.
“There may be no scripture on the topic, but I am not convinced it is entirely moral.”
“Well, when you introduce me to the bishop, we can ask him what he thinks.” She toed the grass with the tip of her shoe. Her face disappeared beneath her hat. “Do you believe Lady Jane?”
“Surprisingly, I do.”
“Then you must also believe that the rat resides at Somerstead Hall, where presently we have many secrets that we are hoping to keep hidden. I say this for your benefit, but also for mine.”
“I will not conduct a crusade on my staff when there is no definitive evidence that any of them are guilty.” He sighed, pausing a moment when Margaret looked up again. “But if itwould put you at ease... I will ask Mrs. Howard if she suspects anyone.”
“I think that is wise.”
“Well, then...” Alexander glanced around. “Now that is settled between us, would you like to join the tour with the others?”
“Absolutely not,” Margaret laughed. “I would sooner walk all the way back home on foot, even in this arctic weather.”
“That can be arranged, Duchess.”
“Much to your detriment, I’ll have you know." She grinned, challenge sparking in her eyes. "You would likely stumble upon me on the road again, frozen into a block of ice this time, with no chance of saving me as you once did. What would the scandal sheet writers have to say then?”
“Perhaps,Margaret Somerton, turned to ice in Wiltshire. Could not be saved by husband and bishop. A tragic waste of a perfectly fine duchess.”
“A waste? You’re toying with me now. You could find another in a heartbeat.”
He parted his lips to say something witty. But it occurred to him that he did not want to – neither say something witty, nor find anyone else to replace her.
A piece of blackthorn blossom had caught in her hair. Alexander reached his gloved fingers toward it, plucking the petal from the ringlet by her face. The back so his fingers lingered a moment on her cheek, before he cleared his throat and let the petal drift away.
“So, no tours for us then,” Margaret murmured, her complexion turning pink. “But perhaps you would condescend to taking this freezing duchess for some cake?”
He smiled, folding his arms, as he led them back toward the courtyard.
CHAPTER 18
Unlike her mother’s house on Grosvenor Square, Somerstead Hall had a dedicated breakfast room. Margaret descended that morning a little later than usual, hoping she would catch Alexander and the others on their way out. Most married ladies she knew took their breakfasts in bed. But Margaret had begun her stay at Somerstead by eating with the others and preferred not to arouse suspicion by breaking their routine.
And there is nothing to be gained from wallowing in my misery and guilt all alone in my chambers. I will have to tell Alexander about my father’s letter someday, but for now...
Her thoughts were interrupted by the butler, coming out of the breakfast room with an empty tray. He bowed to her and stepped aside, allowing Margaret to enter. Alexander was deeply engrossed in studying a newspaper, visibly skipping the society pages in favor of more important news. Isadore sat by herself a few seats down, buttering a roll. Bastian, who usually stuck beside Isadore at the table, was nowhere to be seen.
