Chapter 3 #3
“Millie, dear,” she replied, parroting the tone Millicent had just used, “If I marry, it won’t be to a man whose nature I regret not being able to change.”
Leo sipped her sherry, observing the three women, happy to be mostly overlooked.
“Lord, but your superiority is exhausting,” Millicent said, setting down her untouched sherry. She got to her feet and, for the first time, addressed Leo. “My apologies that you’ve been subjected to this family. Luckily for you, it is only for one evening. Good night.”
She swept out of the room.
“Oh, poor Aunt Millie,” Nadia opined while shaking her head. “See what marrying for a title does, Miss Spencer? I suggest you never consider it.”
“I don’t believe I will ever have reason to, Miss Stroud,” she said, slightly amused by the impractical advice. The only titled person Leo knew was Oliver Hayes, and there was no chance he would offer marriage to her. Nor would she dream of accepting should he do so.
“I imagine it is strange having a woman so close to your own age as an aunt,” Leo said. She was curious about the stark disparity in age between the viscount’s first two children—Emmaline and Francine—and his third, Frederick.
“No stranger than having an uncle who is just a handful of years older than we are,” Nadia replied lightly. She had finished her sherry. Now, with any hope, she would leave, and Helen would remain long enough for Leo to invite her to breakfast the following morning.
“Were your mother and Emmaline Reid close in age to the viscount’s second wife, then?” Leo asked. It might have been an ill-mannered question but considering how the Cowper and Stroud families had behaved thus far, Leo wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.
Nadia chuckled. “The very same age. Lucy was their friend, if you can believe it. Imagine! Having to call your once bosom friend ‘Mama!’”
Helen chastened her giggling sister with a piercing glare.
She then attempted to maintain her poise as she explained further to Leo, “Lucy gave our grandfather his heir, Frederick. Sadly, she passed shortly afterward. Freddie has been more like a cousin or older brother to my sister and me than an uncle.”
Leo had known that the viscount was a widower, though she had not known it was twice over.
“And your father?” Leo inquired, curious about Mr. Stroud. “He has passed as well?”
Helen’s prim mouth turned downward. “Many years ago.”
On the settee, Nadia began to appear weary again, her index finger twirling a curl of her dark hair languidly as she stared into the fire. Just as Leo began to hope she would grow bored enough to leave the room, they were joined by a middle-aged woman, dressed in the utilitarian garb of a maid.
“Madam, I’ve been sent to tell you that Mr. Dalton is leaving for Field’s End Hall.”
Helen started in her chair. “He is going home in this weather?” Outside, the rain was still falling heavily, but the winds had died down somewhat.
“Is it very far?” Leo asked.
“No, I suppose not,” Helen replied, rubbing her temple.
A commotion burst into the sitting room in the shape of the two startlingly tall and lanky wolfhounds.
They ran past the maid, who yelped and jumped with more alarm than was necessary, and converged on Nadia.
One leapt onto the settee and tried to lick her cheek, while the other sat directly on her feet.
“Oh, those beasts!” the maid cried.
“Dora, I don’t know why you mind them so. Porthos and Aramis have utterly ignored you since the little nip on your hand,” Nadia said as she lovingly scrubbed their wiry gray fur.
Helen stood up. “It was more than a nip. And you know my maid was attacked by a dog as a child,” she hissed, her firm hold on her temper cracking. “You should be more thoughtful, Nadia.”
“She has had ample time to get over her fear of dogs,” her sister muttered.
Helen started forward, intending to quit the room and perhaps even the house, if she chose to follow her husband. Given no choice, Leo stood up.
“Mrs. Dalton, Inspector Reid and I would like a private audience with you before we leave tomorrow. Perhaps you will join us for breakfast? In my sitting room?”
It was inelegantly done, she knew, but it had the effect she’d wanted. Helen stood immobile near her maid, staring at Leo with curiosity. Slowly, she gave a nod.
“Of course. I will see you at, say… eight o’clock?”
“Thank you,” Leo replied. Then, blinking as if a bit stunned, Helen continued toward the door. Her maid, Dora, gave Leo a quick, head-to-toe glance before trailing her mistress out of the sitting room.
“Does this private interview have to do with the letter my mother gave you?” Nadia asked with frank interest.
“I am certain you will find out in time, Miss Stroud.”
Leo decided it was time for bed, and she’d never been more ready to retire for the evening.
She bid Nadia a good night and left the room.
In the entrance hall, candles and lamps showed the way to and up the main staircase, but as she turned to the right on the landing above, the corridor leading toward her guest room was much darker, with only a few pockets of candlelight along the way.
She felt a shift in the air and then heard a rustle of clothing behind her. Leo whipped around, aware she wasn’t alone. Jasper emerged from a shadowed corner, hands in his pockets, his chin tucked. The dark gleam of his eyes cut through the dusky lighting as he said quietly, “Your room, or mine?”