The Singular Mr. Sinclair
Page 27
“I should say so. Not only is Sir Erasmus’s mother still living, which means there will be two dowagers splitting that portion, but her stepson has considerable debts. Now that he’s inherited the baronetcy, his creditors will make short work of the estate’s assets, so the dowagers’ due will be smaller yet.” Lady Ackworth made a tsking sound. “This may very well be the last time London Society sees Lady Howard.”
Threadbare gentility loomed in the widow’s future. For the first time since Lady Daly arrived to join the mourners, real tears of sympathy pressed against the backs of her eyes. Too many gentlewomen were reduced to penury by the untimely demise of their men. Fortunately, her husband—such a clever man—had arranged to die before he could accumulate too much debt. Lord Daly had left their son with a solid estate in Surrey and her with a lavish annuity that was the envy of the ton.
“It’s a pity all around. Sir Erasmus was quite a bit older than Lady Howard, but he was certainly no dotard,” she said. “Had he been ill long?”
“No. Death came to him suddenly.” Lady Ackworth narrowed her eyes at Lady Howard, who was accepting condolences with an air of gracious resignation. “It does seem odd, doesn’t it?”
“Was it apoplexy that carried him off?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“A weakness of the chest perhaps?” Lady Daly wondered aloud.
“The Howards have always had the constitution of a horse.”
A ghastly thought crossed Lady Daly’s mind. “You don’t suspect…foul play, do you?”
“Did I say so? What a distasteful idea!” Lady Ackworth whipped out the ornate black fan she kept specifically for funerals and beat the air with it. “I’m surprised at you for broaching such a disturbing topic when we are practically at the gentleman’s graveside.”
Severely chastened, Lady Daly bit her lower lip.
“Still…” Lady Ackworth cocked her head to one side, as she always did when deciding to appropriate someone else’s idea and make it her own. “For a gentleman as hale and hearty as Sir Erasmus to be stricken so unexpectedly…it does make one wonder if he was hastened to his death somehow.”
Lady Daly glanced across the room at the widow, who was seated near the wide front window, looking out into the deepening twilight. A small frown drew Lady Howard’s delicate brows together and, combined with that mysterious smile, hers was a face at war with itself. Less charitable souls might misconstrue the expression entirely.
“I wonder what Lady Howard is thinking.”
If she could have peeked into the lady’s mind at that moment, she’d have been more than disturbed. Only one thought was singing through Lady Howard’s whole being.
I’m finally free.
Meet the Author
Mia Marlowe learned much of what she knows about storytelling from singing. A classically trained soprano, Mia won the District Metropolitan Opera Auditions after graduating summa cum laude from the University of Northern Iowa. She and her family have lived in nine different states, but she now calls the Ozarks home.
Learn more about Mia at www.miamarlowe.com.