He stood once more and turned to a maid just on the other side of the doorway. “Would you accompany Miss Jones to the nursery?”
She dipped a curtsy. “Yes, my lord.”
Anne looked up at Elise, a question in her eyes. Elise gave her a reassuring smile, then subtly made the sign they had developed to mean nursery. Anne nodded her understanding and allowed the nurse to take her hand and lead her away. How much Anne had changed these past weeks. She’d once been afraid of anyone other than Elise and Mama Jones. But in Miles’s home, she had found safety and refuge and a reason to trust. More surprising even than that, Elise had begun, in small ways, to feel the same.
“Come sit with us, Mrs. Jones,” Mrs. Haddington said, waving Elise over.
So much for safety and refuge. If not for Beth sitting with the other ladies and Miles’s nodding reassuringly, Elise would have formulated some excuse or other and followed Anne out of the room. Still, she was no coward.
Elise took a seat amongst the other ladies. Miles sat not far off with the gentlemen.
“Your daughter is so beautiful,” Miss Haddington said. “Her curly hair is absolutely adorable.”
For a moment, Elise wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you,” she managed.
“Actually,” Beth said, “she is the very image of Mrs. Jones when she was a child. I confess I always envied her thick curls.”
“How old is she?” Mrs. Haddington asked.
“She is three years old.”
“Three?” Mrs. Haddington’s gaze turned pointedly ponderous. “How soon will she turn four?”
An odd question, admittedly. But Elise knew it would be rude not to answer. And she would rather not draw more attention to Anne. “Not for a few more months.”
“How many more months?” Mrs. Haddington pressed.
“Quite a few more.” And that was all Elise meant to say on that matter.
Thankfully, Miss Haddington seized control of the conversation once more and directed it away from her mother’s line of questioning. “Your daughter clearly has Lord Grenton wrapped around her finger.” There was nothing but friendliness in Miss Haddington’s tone, something Elise thoroughly appreciated.
“Yes. He has been very kind during our stay here.”
Beth took a small sip of tea. “My brother has always adored little children. He is more at ease with them than most nursemaids, I daresay.”
Mrs. Haddington nodded her approval. “That is a very fine quality for any gentleman to have. A rare one as well.” She gave her daughter a knowing look.
So many things became clear in that instant. Elise had seen for herself at the ball how many young ladies and their mothers were particularly interested in Miles. It seemed the Haddingtons had more than a passing curiosity. They were in full pursuit.
“We have so enjoyed getting to know you and your brother better,” Mrs. Haddington said to Beth. Her look of deeply forged friendship didn’t quite match the brevity of their acquaintance. Mrs. Haddington was firming her footing with the people she knew mattered to her end goal.
Elise watched Miss Haddington, wondering if her mind was as firmly fixed as her mother’s. She had certainly seemed quite at ease with Miles. The day of the picnic, they had chatted amicably, even made each other laugh. Miles had found Elise during the ball based on Miss Haddington’s instructions. He seemed on easy terms with both of Miss Haddington’s parents.
And Miss Haddington is an acceptable match for a marquess. She was not recently dredged up from the ditches.
Though Miss Haddington fit the mold of what Miles ought to have been looking for in a wife, and despite the fact that Elise really did like the lady, she found herself grimacing at the idea. Perhaps it was her own selfishness. Miles was her very best friend; he always had been. When he married, she would be relegated to the periphery of his life. Having only just been reunited with him, she wasn’t sure she was ready to lose him again.
She couldn’t allow herself to entirely trust him, yet she was already mourning the day when he was no longer part of her life. It was little wonder she was so confused.
“Beth, dear,” Mr. Langley spoke into the momentary lull in the ladies’ conversation. “Did you know that Mr. Haddington knew your father?”
“I didn’t.” Beth was clearly pleased.
“We belonged to the same club,” Mr. Haddington said. “And we shared a few interests. We often spent an evening debating the merits of a new invention or investment opportunity and whether or not it was likely to catch on or prove profitable. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but Mr. Linwood and Mr. Furlong and I always got on well. Fine gentlemen. Sharp.”
A prick of pain pierced Elise at the mention of her father. She’d never met Mr. Haddington until the ball, but he had been a somewhat close acquaintance of her father’s. It shouldn’t have surprised her to hear her father had a world outside of the one that had encompassed their home and her very narrow experience as a child, yet somehow it did.
“I was sad to hear of their passing,” Mr. Haddington continued. “Everyone was shocked. It was so unexpected and so very tragic. They were murdered, I understand.”
Elise kept her hands primly folded on her lap, trying to push the words from her mind. Miles had shielded her from these conversations during those first weeks after her father’s death. She’d not been forced to talk about or listen to discussions of the details of that night. Very few things about leaving her home had been a relief, but that part was. Away from Epsworth, she needed not say a word about that night she knew she would never forget.
“The word about the club was it was a robbery gone terribly wrong,” Mr. Haddington said. “No one was entirely certain of the exact details. The number of shots fired was a point of great debate for many weeks. Some believed it was a quickly accomplished thing, while others were just as certain the scene was gory in the extreme.”
Elise closed her mind to his ramblings. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would wish to know more about a person’s violent death. Was it not enough to realize that two murders meant the loss of a father, a friend, a neighbor? Could he not respect the fact that he was speaking of two very real, very good people who deserved some degree of dignity rather than a passage from a sordid novel or sensationalized stage play?
He had known Mr. Linwood and Father, after all. He even claimed to have liked and respected them. Was he not at all bothered by the thought of how violent an end they had met? From the sounds of it, speculation had been bandied about their club amongst the rest of their acquaintances.
She rose to her feet, trying to appear less shaky than she felt. “If you will excuse me,” she said. “I need to make certain Anne has gone down for her nap.”
She offered an abbreviated curtsy and moved swiftly from the room. Mr. Haddington would likely continue his rather callous discussion of death and suffering, but she wanted no part of it. She didn’t need to hear the details; she had lived them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne’s afternoon in the meadow had worn her to a thread. She was asleep already when Elise arrived. Mrs. Ash had retired to her bedchamber, leaving Elise alone in the quiet solitude of the empty nursery.
Elise took several long breaths. Abandoning the sordid discussion in the sitting room had been the wise thing to do, but clearing her mind of it would take time.
“Is Anne asleep?” Miles spoke in the very same moment he stepped into the nursery.
“She is.” Elise hadn’t expected him. “I am sorry if my leaving was rude. I simply couldn’t bear it any longer.”
“I know. And I swear to you had Mr. Haddington taken even a single breath, I would have seized the opportunity to turn the topic of discussion, but he never once stopped.” Miles looked more closely at her. The concern on his face was nearly her undoing.
She kept her emotions under control but only just. “I don’t understand how he could speak of their deaths so casually. He said he knew them, that they were close acquaintances. But he a
cted as though they weren’t people deserving of even a small degree of mourning. It was so . . . callous.”
Miles clasped her hands in his. “I know, and I’m sorry. I truly am.”
Elise let her shoulders slump with the weight she felt. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that he’ll never bring the subject up again.”
Miles’s look of doubt was noticeably apologetic. “He seemed too fascinated to abandon it. And seeing as the Haddingtons live just up the road, I don’t think we can avoid them.” Miles shrugged. “We could always build a very tall wall and place archers atop it. That might keep away the morbidly curious.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “I suppose I will simply have to teach myself to not listen when people discuss what happened. It will certainly come up again.”
Miles put his arms around her. The pain of the past half hour or so melted away. She had missed the teasing, playful side of him during their years of separation, but she had longed for this deeply compassionate side of him even more.
“Forgive the interruption, my lord.” Humphrey stood just inside the doorway to the nursery. “The Haddingtons are leaving, and Mrs. Langley wished me to convey to you that she will see to the proper farewells on your behalf.”
“Very good.” Miles turned a bit toward the butler, his arms slipping slowly away from Elise.
“And a letter has arrived for Mrs. Jones,” Humphrey added, holding out the missive for her to take.
Elise stepped to where he stood and took the letter. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Jones.” He offered a bow and a barely concealed smile before quietly leaving the nursery.
Miles’s initial description of the very formal butler had proven remarkably accurate: more of a puppy than a bloodhound.
“I do believe you have won over my butler, Elise.” Miles chuckled. “And I noticed Mrs. Humphrey served bread pudding again last night.”
“They are very kind people.” She sighed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling the letter in her hand caused.
“Is that another one?”
She knew what he meant. “It is. I am tempted to simply hand it to you unopened.” She watched his reaction to her casual suggestion. He didn’t seem the least bothered at being burdened with her latest difficulty. She longed for a reprieve from the letters, so rather than trying to be stronger than she felt, she gave it to him, still sealed.
“Do you want to know what it says?” he asked.
“Want to know? Not really. But I probably ought to.”
“Then I suggest we take this to the library, where all of the others are,” Miles said. He slipped the letter into the pocket of his coat, then took Elise’s hand once more. She felt instantly better.
He walked with her in just that way, keeping their short conversation to light topics. She could almost pretend there was nothing wrong in all the world. But a moment later, they settled into the armchairs on either side of the library’s fireplace, and he pulled the letter out of his pocket.
Elise held her breath as he opened the seal. What would this message be? More threats? Another mention of Anne? She clutched her hands together in her lap and waited.
“It is blank.” Miles flipped the page over in obvious confusion.
“Blank?” Elise came to his side and looked over his shoulder. Except for the address on the front—her name and Tafford, Derbyshire—the parchment was empty. “What do you suppose that means?”
“I have no idea.” Miles continued studying the page.
“I don’t like this.” She paced, tension surging through her body. “Every other letter has contained a message, some of them very precise.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t now send an empty letter without a purpose.”
“I agree,” Miles said. “There is certainly a reason, but I am at a loss to say what that might be.” He sat there, hand rubbing his mouth even as his brows pulled in.
“I feel ill at ease enough not knowing who is writing, but not understanding what his message is either only magnifies the feeling of helplessness.” She pressed her hand to her heart, trying to will it to calm down. Panic would do her no good. She needed to think clearly.
“The investigation papers haven’t yielded any clear clues,” Miles said. “I haven’t narrowed down the identity of the murderer at all.”
She looked back at him. “And after Mr. Haddington’s discussion today, I can’t help thinking the possibilities are even more numerous than we expected.”
“What do you mean?”
She dreaded voicing the worry that had entered her thoughts as Miles’s neighbor had spoken. “He knew our fathers, though neither of us had ever met him. How many others are there who fit that description—people who were part of their lives who we would never think to suspect because we aren’t even aware they exist?”
Dread filled his face as her words sank in. “It did seem like a very personal attack, not at all random. But if their circle of acquaintances was broader than we are aware of—”
“Then we may never solve this riddle. Not ever.”
His eyes met hers, and on the instant, his expression softened. He rose from his chair and crossed to her, his gaze never leaving her face. Her cheeks warmed at his approach.
“You look worn out, Elise.” Empathy touched his tone. He slid the letter into his pocket once more. “Has this day been too much for you? You said you have been sleeping better.”
She’d said so in passing after breakfast the morning before. He remembered that? Elise could tell her blush remained. “I confess I didn’t sleep well at all last night. And yes, today has been more trying than I’d expected.”
Miles cupped her face with his hands. Her heart pounded again. How did he do that with a simple touch?
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just as he’d often done when they were children—it was the most sentimental of his gestures. He would hold her hand for virtually no reason, but a kiss on the forehead was reserved for the more difficult moments, those times when she needed him more than any other.
The now-familiar scent of him hung in the air around them. Elise’s pulse pounded in her head, her mind whirling. Each breath filled her with an exquisite ache, and in that moment, she knew. She knew.
Despite everything that had happened and her lingering uncertainties, she had fallen in love with him.
* * *
Miles stepped into the sitting room after dinner that night to find Beth in there alone. He was disappointed that Elise wasn’t there, but she’d looked exhausted. And no wonder after the day she’d had. He hoped she was resting.
Beth joined him at the window. “You must realize, Miles, how inappropriate it is for you to hold Elise’s hand the way you do.”
The unexpected remark caught Miles so off guard he did not manage so much as a single word in response.
“A gentleman is seldom seen holding his wife’s hand,” Beth continued. “To do so is a declaration that some relationship exists between himself and the lady.”
“‘Some relationship’ does exist between Elise and me,” Miles answered, recollecting himself enough to answer her. “She is my dearest and oldest friend.”
“That is not enough. The gesture will be misconstrued.”
“It will not.” Where had this attack come from?
“It already has been, especially considering you have been seen doing far more than holding her hand.”
“I sincerely hope you intend to explain that remark.” Miles bit back a sudden flare of temper. Of what misconduct could anyone truthfully accuse him?
“Just today you were apparently seen in the meadow embracing, her hands all over your face.”
“All over—” he spluttered. “I will have you know they were not all over my face. She was shushing me like she always did when we were children.”
“But you are not children any longer, Miles,” Beth said, obviously frustrated. “She cannot press her fingers to your lips or hold your hand or allow your embra
ces—and do not deny you have embraced her; one of the maids saw her in your arms in the nursery this morning. In doing so, you risk having Elise labeled as fast.”
“Fast?” How utterly ridiculous.
“I am only saying the two of you had best watch yourselves lest you inadvertently compromise her reputation,” Beth said. “And it wouldn’t do yours a great deal of good either. You are newly ascended to your title, Miles, and virtually unknown in Society. The reputation you gain now will have long-term implications. You do not want your reputation to be that of a bounder.”
The realization that Beth might be at least partially correct slowly began to overshadow the absurdity of the situation.
“One is certainly permitted a closeness to a childhood friend,” he insisted.
“If this were Epsworth or Furlong House, I would not quibble with you,” Beth said. “Those were our people. They knew you and Elise all your lives. They understood your connection, knew that the two of you had grown up closer even than two siblings.”
“I embrace you, Beth. Doing so with a sister is not exceptional. And you said yourself Elise and I are as close as siblings.”
“It is not the same, and you know it.” Beth gave him a reprimanding look.
“I’m supposed to treat her like a stranger, then?”
“I am only saying, unless you are prepared to marry her, you had best have a care for her reputation.”
Marry her? His childhood friend? A gentleman had quite different feelings for the lady he married than that of friendship. “If I promise to be more proper, will you stop worrying yourself into a pelter?”
“I have reason to worry, Miles.” If anything, Beth’s expression grew more concerned.
“Don’t tell me you suspect me of anything—”
She shook her head. “It is not my suspicions that should concern you.”
Suddenly, she had his entire attention. “Someone does suspect me of something untoward.”
Beth hesitated a moment. “Not necessarily, Miles,” she finally answered. “But there is a great deal of curiosity. Elise was married at fifteen. She was only sixteen when Anne was born. That is unusual enough to raise eyebrows. Now she is living in a bachelor’s home. Only the fact that Langley and I are here makes the arrangement the least bit acceptable. But coupled with her history, your obvious closeness will most likely not be interpreted in a favorable light.”
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