Chapter Eight #2
“Thank you,” Kate said humbly. “Are you saying that in their own ways, both Mr. Otteridge and Mr. Newman felt entitled to…endanger the maid?”
“Of course. And from your questions and my answers, they probably had the opportunity.”
But did either of them do it? “Did you notice anyone else moving around at that time? Servants, perhaps?”
“No, just the footman at the drawing room door.”
“Thank you, Miss Nye. I appreciate your clarity.”
Miss Nye smiled, clearly pleased to have helped, and grateful for Kate’s good opinion. Which struck Kate as faintly tragic.
*
As she left the breakfast parlor, Kate realized that Miss Nye had not asked how or indeed where Dinah was after she “collapsed.” Which was a little odd, given her understanding and pity for the maid.
Did she assume the girl had been spirited away, or dismissed?
Or did she know exactly what had happened to her?
The thought caused Kate’s stomach to tighten uncomfortably.
Could she trust Miss Nye’s account of her brother’s movements, especially when Lewis had not confirmed the time of his return to the drawing room?
Was the woman loyally covering up her brother’s suspicious movements?
Or had she not noticed them and decided to fill the gaps with her own best guesses? Neither was helpful.
Kate’s next tasks were to talk to Nye, Otteridge, and Newman, although it was going to be rather harder to ask them exactly where they had been when they left the drawing room that evening.
On the landing, she spotted Otteridge laughing with Lord Chadbon over something before ambling upstairs.
At the same time, Newman was trotting downstairs to the front hall.
Who to follow first?
In the end, she decided on Newman, mainly because he was younger and she could more easily imagine his skulking in the dark and overpowering the maid.
So she ambled casually downstairs in his wake, ignoring the discomfort of the thought she could be pursuing a man who had already killed.
Not that she was actually afraid, for Miss Nye was right: No gentleman would regard Lady Ambrose as disposable like Dinah. Which made Kate unusually angry.
One of the footmen—not Lewis this time—was on duty by the front door and opened it for Mr. Newman.
“May I fetch your hat and coat, sir?” the servant asked.
“Not sure yet that I’m prepared to risk it,” Newman said, stepping over the threshold while Kate ambled across the hall. He stretched out his hands on either side of his body and regarded the thick, dark sky.
“What is the verdict, Mr. Newman?” Kate asked lightly. “Dare one take the air?”
He glanced back at her, smiling, and she thought dispassionately that he was a rather attractive man. Would Dinah have thought so? Would she even have been interested, given her situation and the fact that he was already married?
“I do believe the rain is off,” he replied. “If only temporarily. I’m prepared to risk a brisk five minutes if you are, Lady Ambrose. We’ll take an umbrella. But will you be warm enough?”
“I have my shawl.” She pulled the garment up from her elbows to cover her shoulders and followed him outside.
Gallantly, he offered her his arm, and she laid her hand on his sleeve.
“I did not see Mrs. Newman at breakfast,” Kate remarked. “I trust she is well?”
“Mornings do not agree with Margaret. She prefers to breakfast in her own room. But yes, she is perfectly well. Though she will not be so happy about the closed roads.”
“I hope it has not upset plans for either of you.”
“Oh, I am perfectly happy to stay longer.” He smiled down into her eyes. “The company is most charming.”
Good grief, is he flirting? Kate wasn’t quite sure how to tell, and to her annoyance, she felt unusually flustered.
She had never had a London Season, and all the social gatherings she attended were serious political affairs with largely serious people much older than herself.
She was used to flattery and manipulation—her own and other people’s—but not without serious purpose.
“Why, so I think,” she managed. “I have also met some very interesting new people.”
“I hope I number among them.”
“Don’t be silly. Have you forgotten we were already acquainted before we came here?”
He laughed. “Of course not. But it was my ambition to know you better. You are a very intriguing lady, you know.”
“Oh, no. I merely represent my husband.” It seemed a good idea to insert Gilbert into the conversation.
“And you are very good at it. Lord Chadbon himself holds you in considerable respect. No, it is Ambrose I don’t understand—sending you off into the wilds alone and unprotected.”
She laughed. “Wilds? Chadbon Court is everything that is civilized, a mere day away from London. And of course I am not unprotected. I am among friends.”
“You are,” he said, patting her hand on his arm. His eyes gleamed, both smiling and openly admiring. “I do hope you appreciate that. Husbands tend to take wives for granted. Others…enjoy.”
“I hope you do not take Mrs. Newman for granted,” Kate said.
“Margaret and I understand each other. Can you say the same of yourself and Ambrose?”
“Possibly. If I were to discuss my husband with anyone, which I shan’t.”
“Always for the best,” he said gravely, though his hand still lay on hers and his fingers were gently stroking.
It caused a novel sensation. She turned her head and met his gaze. “You notice women, don’t you, Mr. Newman?”
“Of course. Beauty deserves appreciation, not neglect.”
“I wonder, did you notice Lady Chadbon’s beautiful maidservant?”
“Which one?”
“Am I to take that as a no?” In fact, she would take it as a lie.
“I don’t notice maidservants,” he said impatiently. “It is you I have been noticing. Even before we came to Chadbon Court.”
“I can’t imagine why. But perhaps you can help me? I think you do know the maid I mean. An extraordinarily beautiful girl. Did you see her after dinner on our first evening here?”
He blinked, though whether in astonishment at her question or because he didn’t want to answer, she could not tell. He would be an excellent politician, revealing only what he chose to. “I really cannot remember. Why?”
“Because it would help Lady Chadbon,” she said, falling back on her precarious excuse for impertinent questions.
“Then no, I don’t believe I did.”