Edwina had seen him sketching but notwritinganything. Given the age of some of his correspondence, it was apparent he hadn’t replied to any of it. Had he evenreadany of the letters addressed to him?
“The others never suspected,” he said quietly. “Or badgered me.” Bascomb shot her a glance filled with anger and a great deal of vulnerability. “I should have tossed you out the moment I saw your skirts dripping mud in my study. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Collins.”
“It is nothing to be ashamed of, my lord.”
“And how would you know, Collins?” He turned toward her, green-gray eyes glowering at her in accusation. “You can’t begin to fathom—I can read and write. I’m not some dumb animal.”
“My lord, I didn’t mean to suggest—” Empathy filled Edwina. Bascomb, beautiful, imposing man that he was, had a weakness. No wonder he was at Rose Abbey and not gracing the balls of London.
“Don’t you dare pity me, Collins,” he snarled.
“I don’t, my lord. In fact, your unpleasant personality makes it fairly easy for me not to.”
“You’re very insubordinate,” he said in a silky tone, eyes narrowed once more on her bosom.
The library grew warmer, much more than could be credited to the meager fire Mrs. Page had lit. Edwina’s nipples grew taut beneath his perusal. She turned sharply away.
“Why are youhere, Collins? At Rose Abbey. And not wed to some tedious gentleman?”
“I don’t believe that is relevant to my position.” Edwina made her way back to the desk, not caring for his question.
“Oh, it isn’t. But I find I am curious about you beyond your exemplary skills, though I’ll probably send you back to…where was it?”
He knew perfectly well where she was from. “Hampshire,” she murmured.
“Should I expect some rejected suitor to come riding up to the door of Rose Abbey, demanding your return? Or perhaps a cuckolded husband?” There was an odd glint in Bascomb’s eyes as he waited for her to answer. A hard edge to his words. A hint of jealousy.
“What makes you think I would cuckold a husband?” Edwina had known Bascomb barely a week, though it felt much longer. As if she’d always known him. The pull in his direction was nearly impossible to resist.
Bascomb strolled over to the desk, discarding the apple core. He stood beside her, so close his breath ruffled her hair. When the tip of his nose dragged along the edge of Edwina’s ear, she squeaked in surprise.
“I don’t, Collins.” One large forefinger brushed against her cheek. “Think you would cuckold a husband. I merely wanted to ascertain if there was such a man.”
If Edwina so much as turned, just an inch, her mouth and Bascomb’s would touch. This close, she could see that there were striations of gold hovering in his pupils, splintering through the gray-green. She reached up and traced the line of his scar from the corner of his eye to the edge of his mouth.
Bascomb inhaled sharply. “Careful, Collins,” he whispered. “This is how Merrywimple was scared off.”
“I doubt you would have welcomed the attentions of Merrywimple. Or Worthington. Perhaps Fielding.”
He smiled back at her. “Possibly not.” He eased away from her. “You should return to your duties.”
“Yes. There’s much more work to be done.”
He snatched several scones off the tea tray before walking out of the library, probably to return to the holes in the roof that seemed to multiply with regularity.
Edwina slumped down into the chair before the desk, disinterested completely in the ledgers before her. Part of her, the wild, reckless version of herself she rarely allowed out, wanted nothing more than to run after Bascomb.
A danger far more frightening than whatever lurked in Rose Abbey.
Chapter Nine
Edwina tossed twoof the ledgers along with the small book holding all the notes by Fielding and the others onto her bed. About a quarter of the requests for payment from various tradesmen did not match the notations in the ledgers, too many mistakes to be attributed to merely oversight, especially since the errors had occurred under the watch of each of her predecessors. There was no possible way thateverysecretary Bascomb had hired was that incompetent. Fielding had seen the errors, as had Larkspur, but they’d left Rose Abbey before they could investigate. Bascomb wouldn’t see any errors because he was relying on the secretary he hired to do so. And the tenures of those later secretaries had become briefer, the men frightened away from Rose Abbey much sooner.
Before they could put the pieces together?
Picking up a biscuit from the plate she’d set on the pillow, Edwina chewed thoughtfully.
There was a notation in one of the ledgers from over a year ago, in Merrywimple’s handwriting. The purchase of a new headstone for the abbess, Lady Renalda. It was a rather large sum. Far more than Edwina would have thought a headstone for a long-dead abbess would have merited. She was sure once she found the receipt for the headstone,ifshe found it, the amount paid wouldn’t match the sum in the ledger.
