So how could it happen to me?
The night of the Stanhopes’ dinner, I find myself obsessing over what to wear. I need to make the right impression without looking like I’m trying too hard. I finally settle on a formfitting, knee-length pale blue dress by the British designer Reiss, with a pair of nude pumps by another British designer, L. K. Bennett. I’m still in awe over the wardrobe Maisie picked out for me, and I hope I can do justice to these beautiful clothes.
A knock sounds at the door, followed by Maisie stepping into my room.
“I just wanted to see if you need any help getting ready for tonight,” she offers, giving my dress an approving glance. “That looks perfect on you.”
“Thanks, Maisie.” I smile at her, feeling an involuntary flutter of excitement at the thought of Sebastian seeing me in it. “You picked out the most gorgeous things for me. I can’t thank you enough.”
Her cheeks flush. “I rather enjoyed it.”
“Well, I’m definitely grateful, especially considering I don’t have your fashion sense. Where did you get it from?”
I cringe as soon as the words are out of my mouth; I didn’t mean to sound so condescending. But I do wonder—how does a girl who’s been raised as a maid know so much about high-end designers?
“Lady Lucia taught me everything I know,” she says, meeting my eyes.
“Oh. Of course.” I swallow hard. “Do you—do you miss her?”
Maisie doesn’t answer, turning the question on me instead.
“Do you, Your Grace?”
“Well, I … I unfortunately lost touch with her, so it’s been years since I really knew her,” I admit. “But yes, I miss Lucia and the friendship we once had. I spent every summer with her until I was ten, and I guess … she was my best friend in those days.”
“She missed you too,” Maisie says, her voice level.
“Really?” My breath catches in my throat. “She told you that?”
Maisie nods. I want to know more, but before I can ask another question, she picks up the hairbrush on my vanity table and motions for me to sit down.
“Let me do your hair. I used to always fix Lady Lucia’s before she went out, and that was when she would tell me everything—all about where she was going and what she’d done the night before,” Maisie confides.
“She told you everything?” I echo.
Maisie’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. “There wasn’t anything she could hide from me.”
I fall into silence. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but something in Maisie’s tone gives me pause. What kind of secrets might Lucia have entrusted her with?
“Would you like me to wrap your gift for the Stanhopes?” she asks abruptly as she runs the brush through my hair.
“What gift?”
Seeing my confusion, she explains, “It’s a tradition in the country. At a dinner party, the guest of honor always brings a gift for their hosts.”
I look at her in alarm. “Oh, no. I only planned on bringing a bottle of wine. Is that not enough?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Grace,” she says solemnly.
“I don’t have time to go shopping,” I fret. “What should I do?”
Maisie hesitates. When she speaks again, her voice is tentative.
“My mother and Oscar keep an assortment of hostess gifts on hand. In fact, there’s a beautiful statuette that Mother has been saving for such an occasion. It would look lovely on a desk or mantelpiece. Should I wrap it for you?”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Maisie, you’re a lifesaver. That sounds perfect.”
An hour later I sit in the backseat of the Aston Martin as Alfie drives through the nearby town of Great Milton, toward Stanhope Abbey. I’ve been there before, on long-ago playdates with Sebastian and Theo, but my recollections of their house are hazier than those of my early years at Rockford Manor.
I draw in my breath as we pull through the gates and continue up the winding road to an Elizabethan mansion, set against a backdrop of rising hills and lush green parkland.
“Here we are,” Alfie says. “Stanhope Abbey.”
“Is it strange to be back?” I ask timidly. “You must have driven Lucia here all the time.”
“Not so often. After she got a license and her own car, she was thrilled to be rid of me.” Alfie smiles sadly.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I tell him.
Alfie’s expression changes.
“The car made Lucia so independent, I think she forgot I was there for her. And I often wonder … Well, if she had only entrusted me to do my job that night and take care of her, if she wanted to go out so badly, I would have driven her anywhere she wished to go. She didn’t have to walk out into that storm, when the pouring rain and winds made it impossible to see where you—” He breaks off midsentence. “My apologies, Your Grace. I have forgotten myself. You shouldn’t be burdened with an old man’s regrets.”
“No. You can’t blame yourself,” I say gently, realizing I’m repeating the words that have been said to me so many times about my parents’ deaths. “There’s no way you could have known she was planning to go out in that storm. And if she was determined to walk to the Maze alone … well, I don’t see how you or anyone could have stopped her.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” He pauses. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re … very different from Lady Lucia.”
“From what I’ve seen, I don’t think anyone could compare to her,” I agree. “She was unbelievably gorgeous, and if her personality was anything like what I remember, then she was a real force to be reckoned with.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me,” Alfie says hurriedly. “I wasn’t making an unfavorable comparison. On the contrary, actually. I loved Lady Lucia, we all did, but—well, she never would have cared to speak to me the way you just did.”
I don’t doubt him. Even as a little girl Lucia had an imperious streak, treating the staff as her underlings. But it throws me to hear any criticism of my cousin, who up until now loomed in my mind as the Perfect Predecessor, with shoes too large to fill.
“I’m sure she did care. But I know what you’re getting at, and … thank you.”
“Have a wonderful night, Your Grace,” he says as the Stanhopes’ footman opens the car door.
“Welcome to Stanhope Abbey, Duchess,” he greets me, dropping into a bow. “The family is expecting you in the drawing room.”
He leads me up the front steps and into the house, which is smaller than Rockford Manor but just as lavish, complete with frescoed walls, painted ceilings, and halls lined with awe-inspiring sculptures and family portraits. I’m beginning to realize that for English aristocrats, the home is the place to show off all their precious assets, with no corner left unadorned.
“The Duchess of Wickersham,” the footman announces as we approach the drawing room door.
I watch from the doorway as the Stanhopes and four other guests rise to their feet. My eyes instantly meet Sebastian’s. He is a vision in his dark suit, and I feel a familiar swooping in my stomach as we look at each other. His gaze is friendly, like the Sebastian I remember from before, and I wonder if we’ve moved past the awkwardness of my return—if we’ve reached some unspoken understanding since meeting in the cemetery.
Lord and Lady Stanhope step forward to greet me, followed by their guests: Viscount Warren and his daughter, Lady Cecily Warren, who looks around my age, and a Mr. and Mrs. Blythe from London. Once the formalities are out of the way, Theo comes up to me with a big grin.
“Imogen, you look cracking,” he says, draping an arm over my shoulder.
“Cracking?” I repeat dubiously.
“He means you look good,” Sebastian says with a brief smile.
His words set off a flock of butterflies in my stomach, but then I remind myself that he’s only relaying what his brother said. If anyone here is flirting with me—and that’s still very much an if—it’s Theo, not Sebastian.
“Thanks, T
heo. You look cracking yourself,” I say, my nerves beginning to settle. And as I study him, I realize Theo is pretty darn cute. Anyone in this room would be overshadowed by Sebastian’s movie-star looks, but Theo is adorable, the kind of guy I can picture Zoey going nuts over.
I suddenly remember the gift in my hands, wrapped to perfection by Maisie.
“I have something for you all. Let me give this to your mom.”
The three of us approach Lady Stanhope, who is chatting with the viscount and his daughter.
“Lady Imogen, you must get to know Cecily here,” she says as we join them. “I think you two will be fast friends. Cecily is starting Oxford this fall.”
“Oh, cool. I’m about to start a summer class there, at Christ Church college,” I tell Cecily.
“So am I,” Sebastian says, eyeing me in surprise. “Which class are you taking?”
“Classical Literature and Mythology. What about you?” I hold my breath as I wait for his reply.
He smiles, but his voice has a slight edge to it when he speaks.
“The same. I needed an extra few credits for my degree. What made you choose the subject?”
For a moment I’m speechless, thrilled at the idea of us in the same class, but I regain my composure just in time.
“English is my best subject, and my guardian back in New York insisted that I give Oxford a try this summer. If I can manage to do well, then I’ll apply for next fall’s term.”
“Well, this is too lovely!” Lady Stanhope says, smiling brightly. “All three of you at Oxford! Theo, you’re next.”
“We’ll see.” Theo laughs.
I hand Lady Stanhope the gift.
“This is for you.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she demurs as she begins unwrapping the package. I watch in anticipation, hoping she and the Stanhopes will love it as much as Maisie seemed to think they would.
Lady Stanhope holds up the unwrapped gift, an antique porcelain statuette of a striking woman. Theo’s eyes dart nervously toward Sebastian, who stares at the statuette in shock.
“Um, it’s a decorative piece,” I explain awkwardly, bewildered by the reactions to my gift. “It’s for a desktop, or a mantelpiece.…” My voice trails off, as I notice how pale Sebastian’s face has become, making his green eyes look darker than I’ve ever seen them. He advances toward me, his hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
“Where did you get that?” he snaps, his voice so sharp it nearly makes me jump. “Why would you bring it here?”
“What?” I stare at him uncomprehendingly. “What are you talking about? It’s just a present!”
“A present?” He lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “I should have known.”
Theo springs in between me and Sebastian. “Let it go, Seb,” he says, looking at his brother worriedly.
Theo takes the statuette from his mother, but Sebastian reaches for it at the same time, knocking it out of Theo’s grasp.
The figurine shatters on the hardwood floor, sending porcelain shards flying across the room. For one terrible second, we all freeze in place. Then Lady Stanhope yelps in alarm, Theo rushes to my side—and Sebastian slips out of the room without a word.
X
“What just happened?” I cry out. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I’m sorry,” Lady Stanhope murmurs, first to me and then to each of her guests. “I’m so sorry—I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“I’ll be back,” Lord Stanhope says grimly, following Sebastian out the door.
Lady Stanhope nervously smoothes her hair and takes a few shallow breaths.
“Why don’t we move into the library and let the maid clean this up?”
She leads the way into the corridor, but I hang back, unable to tear my eyes away from the shattered figurine. I don’t know what disturbs me more—the fact that my gift provoked such a reaction, or that my sweet childhood friend has turned into someone capable of flying into a temper.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn around, looking into Theo’s kind eyes.
“I … I don’t understand,” I say falteringly.
“Of course you don’t. My brother is a prat for assuming the worst of you,” Theo says, shaking his head. “You didn’t know what you brought, did you?”
“What do you mean? It was just a silly gift!” I feel tears pricking at my eyes, and I force them back.
Theo takes a deep breath.
“It was a statuette of Lady Beatrice, the fifth Duchess of Wickersham, from the early 1800s.”
The name is familiar.
“I think I’ve heard of her. My etiquette coach mentioned a Lady Beatrice as the person who supposedly tamed the Rockford land. But why would Sebastian be so mad about her statue?”
“Because he bought it for Lucia two years ago. I’m not sure where you got it, but it was hers. I remember Sebastian saying it was an original.”
I can’t believe it. Nausea washes over me as I realize what Maisie has done.
“I—I had no idea,” I manage to choke out, staring at Theo in horror. “Maisie said it was a brand-new gift that Mrs. Mulgrave and Oscar had saved for a special occasion. She set me up! But why?”
Theo doesn’t look surprised.
“Isn’t it obvious? Lucia wasn’t just Maisie’s boss. She was her only friend and her whole life, really. I’m sure she has some resentment toward you for taking her place.”
I sink into a chair, resting my head in my hands.
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to come back—it just seemed like the right thing to do. I made a big mistake, didn’t I?” I give him a sidelong glance. “My maid is out to get me, and the friend I couldn’t wait to reconnect with hates me.”
Theo pulls up a chair beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Sebastian doesn’t hate you. I’m sure he’s going to feel like a right arse when he finds out none of this was your fault. And why don’t you just sack Maisie?”
I groan.
“I wish, but I can’t do that. I have a co-regent who runs the estate with me until I turn twenty-one, and I highly doubt he’d be willing to fire Maisie over a gift gone wrong when her mom is the housekeeper and they’ve both been at Rockford a whole lot longer than me.”
“I guess you’re right,” Theo concedes. He reaches for my hand, and I feel a flicker of surprise—both at his actions and the way I warm to them. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know I’m not the brother you were excited to see tonight. But let me be the friend you need. I want to be here for you.”
I flush with embarrassment. Have I really been so obvious?
“I— It’s not that I wasn’t excited to see you. I was, honestly. But when we were younger, I spent more time with Sebastian. I knew him better—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Theo interrupts. “I get it. I’m just … stating my intentions, I guess.” He grins, his cute dimple reappearing.
I squeeze his hand, touched.
“Your English directness is very refreshing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an American guy our age say anything so eloquent … or sweet.”
“That’s good to hear,” Theo says with a wink. “Well, we’d better join the others before my mum gets even more bent out of shape.”
We walk together into the library, our hands brushing against each other. And I wonder—could I have feelings for Theo? I’ve never thought of him like that, but I have to admit he’s surprising me … in a good way.
Just before we reach the rest of our group, I ask the question that has been nagging at the back of my mind since Theo told me about the statuette.
“Why Lady Beatrice? What made Sebastian choose that as a gift for Lucia?”
“Lucia had this … obsession with Lady Beatrice,” Theo reveals. “It started out as an essay she and Sebastian had to write for university, but then she became fixated on her, especially on the myths surrounding her life.”
“What myths?” I ask, my
heart rate picking up speed.
But I’m too late. Lady Stanhope spots us outside the library door and gestures for us to join the others. My questions will have to wait.
Despite Lady Stanhope’s best efforts, the dinner is pretty much a disaster. Lord Stanhope arrives in the dining room with the news that Sebastian is nowhere to be found, and his empty place at the table serves as the elephant in the room, resulting in stilted conversation and awkward pauses throughout the meal. When the after-dinner tea service wraps up and the Blythes, the viscount, and his daughter all stand to leave, I finally have my exit opportunity.
“Thank you so much for a lovely dinner,” I say, forcing a smile for the Stanhopes.
“We’re so sorry about what happened earlier,” Lord Stanhope says in a low voice. “My son hasn’t been at all himself since Lucia died.”
“I understand,” I say quickly.
After a sweet goodbye hug from Theo, I hurry into the night, where the Aston Martin is waiting. I can barely carry a conversation with Alfie when he asks about the dinner, my mind racing a hundred miles a minute as I wonder how I will confront Maisie.
Anger floods my veins as I throw open the front doors of Rockford Manor. Where is she?
I search through the numerous rooms of the first floor until I’m out of breath, but she is nowhere to be found. I run back to the Marble Hall, stopping short at the sight of Mrs. Mulgrave slinking down the staircase.
“Where’s your daughter?” I hear myself shout.
Mrs. Mulgrave flinches.
“She set me up!” I fume. “Where is she?”
“What do you mean, she set you up?” Mrs. Mulgrave asks. Her face is illumined by a silver candelabra on the wall, casting her in a ghostly glow.
“She gave me a gift for the Stanhopes that turned out to be one of Lucia’s belongings—a present from Sebastian. She made me look like a total bitch, trying to hurt him by reminding him of Lucia. What kind of person does that?” I shake my head in disgust.
Suspicion Page 13
