Chapter 20
Waverly
Traeger Hall
Titus had taken his leave. She was convinced he was the worst sort of man.
Picking a spiderweb from her hair? How was this gentlemanly when he made her heart thud with his movement and the intensity of his eyes?
She was surrounded by boorish men. And the only feminine influence in her life was Aveline, whom she was less fond of now that she’d witnessed Aveline’s desire to gain Titus’s attention.
Still, with Preston away from Traeger Hall and meeting with Mr. Grossman, the world would soon implode once again.
Waverly needed to prepare for Preston’s anger.
If he was responsible for the original attacks and so positioned himself to have a part in a supposed inheritance, what might he do if he returned to the house after hearing there was no inheritance to speak of?
And why hadn’t she thought to ask Titus before he left?
Her oversight could only be blamed on the way her nerves went in seventy different directions when he was near her.
It was hardly fair to blame Aveline either, yet part of Waverly did just that.
Aveline had distracted her. Aveline had made her feel jealous.
How petty of her. Waverly wished she hadn’t been so snippy. Aveline was merely trying to help, and a woman would have to be cold-blooded not to be affected by a man like Titus Fitzgerald.
Waverly would make things right with Aveline should the maid react as though she’d noticed Waverly’s irritation, and then she would prepare for Preston’s return.
Oh, and she needed to finish what she’d set out to do before Titus had once again descended unannounced on Traeger Hall. She simply must get to the bell tower and assure herself that what she’d hidden there had not betrayed her by being found or moved.
Agitated, Waverly hurried through the halls, peeking into unused rooms. Traeger Hall was large, yes, but it wasn’t a cavern that swallowed its help. For goodness’ sake, Aveline had to be in the servants’ quarters then!
“Bother.” Waverly hitched up her skirts and climbed the narrow steps to the attic, where two rooms were designated for the help.
She thought of calling out, but it seemed ridiculous when she could just peek into the rooms. The first room, complete with three cots, was empty just as she’d expected.
The room at the far end was the one Aveline had occupied with Cook prior to Uncle Leopold’s death.
“Aveline,” Waverly said as she pushed open the door, “I need to—” She broke off her words with a high-pitched gasp.
Preston leaped from the bed, a blanket around his waist, his bare, thin chest as revolting to Waverly as a side of pork. Aveline sat with her back against the iron headboard, a sheet pulled up to her neck.
“Waverly.” Preston held out his hand.
She whirled and fled from the room.
“Waverly!” Preston’s shout followed her as she made quick work of escaping the attic.
The resounding thud of someone falling shook the floor, likely from having been entangled in the bedsheets while attempting to exit the bed.
Waverly didn’t bother to investigate. How on earth had .
. . ? She and Titus had only just left Aveline to return to her duties less than an hour ago!
When Aveline had all but swooned in the presence of Titus.
And Preston? He was supposed to be with Mr. Grossman, not bedding her housemaid like a lecher!
Waverly rushed to the first floor, taking refuge in the .
. . oh, where could she take refuge? This was a house of murder and now scandal!
She decided to slip into the sitting room.
As she paced in front of the windows, she wondered if perhaps Preston and Aveline had run off somewhere and married secretly.
That might justify what she’d just seen and—
“Waverly!” Preston marched into the sitting room.
She couldn’t look him straight in the eyes.
He was mostly dressed now. Trousers, shirt hanging untucked around his hips, a tie hastily knotted—as if a tie would make him appear respectable!
Waverly had never found him attractive, especially not now that she’d caught sight of him half naked in Aveline’s bed.
The shameful image made her feel nauseated.
“There is no reason to overreact,” Preston instructed, a lofty bluster in his voice. “What you happened upon was—”
“Was what?” Waverly lifted her chin. “Have you married her?”
“Heavens, no.” Preston waved her off, as though Waverly’s question was sheer foolishness. “Don’t be naive, Waverly. The world is not a perfect little package.”
“You’re taking advantage of her then.” Waverly glowered at the man who had inserted himself into Traeger Hall’s business with no invitation and who now had violated her only remaining housemaid.
“I did no such thing.” Preston’s mustache twitched with offense. “She was quite willing.”
“Are you in love with her?” Waverly demanded, although she wasn’t sure in this circumstance if that even mattered.
“Certainly not,” Preston scoffed.
“Did you seduce my housemaid?”
Preston moved closer, and Waverly stepped back.
Her foot landed on the furry mop of Foo’s tail, and the cat, unnoticed until a second ago, yowled and raked at Waverly’s dress.
His front claws caught in her skirt, and Foo wrestled to release them.
When he succeeded, a small tear was made in the black silk of the skirt.
Waverly was beside herself. She glared at Preston. “Look at what you’ve done!”
“What I have done? Your cat did that. If you want to avoid such mishaps, then put him outside and let him be a normal cat chasing after mice. Not the pampered little prince that he is.”
Waverly could accept plenty of insults. If this man was like Uncle Leopold and intimidated her, she was likely to cower for fear of abuse. But she would allow no one to threaten her cat. She hauled back and slapped Preston across his thin face.
“Why, you little minx!” He reached for her, but Waverly dodged him and took refuge behind a wing-back chair.
“You must marry Aveline now,” she insisted.
She was flustered. The man was pretending nothing untoward had occurred, and now she was fighting off a churning stomach, frayed nerves, a clawed dress, and the sudden realization that Preston perhaps had never met with Mr. Grossman and was still in the dark about the lack of her inheritance.
“I will not marry the girl.” Preston rubbed the cheek Waverly had slapped.
“Well, I certainly will not marry you! Not for all the tea in China and India and England combined!” Waverly sputtered, stating aloud what had been merely implied by Preston to this point.
“Your future is another matter entirely.” His face darkened. “And you will say nothing of my little dalliance with your housemaid. What I do is my business. Aveline was quite willing, and I will give no further explanation.”
“Was she truly?” Waverly challenged.
Preston’s smirk unnerved her more than she wanted to admit.
“Aveline and I have had an arrangement for well over a year now.”
Hearing this news, Waverly rounded the chair and sank onto it.
Preston glowered down at her with all the power and control he deemed was his own. “You will stay out of my business. I am a man. Men have needs. And if you don’t know this by now, then you’re a foolish chit.”
Waverly bit her tongue. Hard. She tasted blood.
“Do I make myself clear?” Preston leaned down, his expression suddenly reminding her of Uncle Leopold. Domineering. Powerful. Mean.
Waverly nodded.
She would need to lock her bedroom door tonight and pray that Preston had never gotten ahold of a skeleton key. Or she needed to pretend to go to her rooms and then sneak away to safety somewhere. But where? There was Titus, but how unseemly would that be?
She cursed Traeger Hall as Preston spun on his heel and exited the sitting room. She cursed the day Aunt Cornelia had married Uncle Leopold. She cursed the day she’d learned Uncle Leopold’s secret, and it all began to unravel. Waverly sagged back in the chair and gave a long sigh.
Foo padded over to her and nosed her leg, then hopped onto her lap as if their kerfuffle had never taken place. The cat sat on his haunches and stared at her with his blue eyes.
“Now what do I do?” she asked Foo.
The cat blinked and then began licking his paw.
She could criticize Preston all she wanted for his lasciviousness, but when she ran into Aveline as she slunk down the staircase that night, it was all Waverly could do not to scream.
The guilt and embarrassment she felt for being caught snooping were overwhelming.
She clutched at her throat, her shawl slipping down around her waist.
“Now you come out of hiding?” Waverly hissed, mostly not to awaken Preston than out of anger. She wanted to believe Aveline was innocent, yet the look on the housemaid’s ashen face told Waverly otherwise. Aveline was far from guiltless.
“Miss Pembrooke, I . . .” Aveline couldn’t look Waverly in the eye.
“Say nothing more.” Waverly held up her hand. “I’ve no wish to pry into what has already happened. In a few days’ time, much will change anyway.” She didn’t expound for the maid’s sake. Instead, she tried to collect her thoughts as best she could. “But do tell me one thing.”
“Yes, miss?” Aveline swallowed hard, the whites of her eyes showing her nervousness.
“Was it consensual?”
Aveline reddened. “Yes, miss, it was.”
Then Preston had told the truth in that matter. What other secrets were within these walls that she knew nothing about? Waverly tempered her breathing to control her emotions. “Did Mr. Scofield leave Traeger Hall today to meet with Mr. Grossman?”
“No, miss,” Aveline answered.