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She had done it! She had managed through a bit of deception to weasel her way into Castle Tremaine! As soon as she was settled, as soon as the Forsythe family had begun to let down its guard and trust her, she would begin her search.
Corrie’s lips thinned. Gray Forsythe might be one of the handsomest men she had ever met, but that didn’t mean he was innocent of murder. And if he had killed her sister and baby Joshua, the Earl of Tremaine was going to pay.
Gray stalked through the halls, his ill humor worse than it was before he left the house. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but somehow, during her appearance in his drawing room in her mended garments, during the minutes she had looked up at him so pleadingly with her thick-lashed, jewel-green eyes, he had let down his guard and allowed a woman he had never met move into his house.
He didn’t understand it. He had seen through her theatrics from the start, the false tears and wringing hands, the beseeching looks and trembly voice. But during her performance he had also caught a flash of something that intrigued him. He thought it might be desperation, for he was certain that was there, but this seemed more like determination. Whatever it was, it had interested him enough to let her stay.
Gray shook his head. For all he knew, Letty Moss was a charlatan, there to cajole him out of his money, rob him or worse.
He thought about the petite young woman with the fiery copper curls peaking out beneath the soiled brim of her bonnet, and almost smiled. He had been a soldier, a man who’d commanded troops in the British Army. If she gave him any trouble, he would simply toss her out on what held the promise of being a very attractive derriere.
The thought stirred him in a way he didn’t expect. Since Jillian had died, he had slept with few women. It was his conscience, he knew, that kept him from indulging more in the pleasures of the flesh he so enjoyed, guilt that he was alive and Jillian was not. That he had not been there to protect her when she’d needed him.
He looked up to see Rebecca approaching down the hall.
“I hope you were a gentlemen about it,” she said with a smile. “I realize she hoped you would let her stay here at the castle, but—”
“She’s staying.”
“What!”
“It won’t be for long. She’ll soon come into a monthly stipend that should be enough to provide for her until her husband returns.”
“But…but we don’t even know her. How can you simply let her move in?”
The smile he gave her was sardonic. “You are always chiding me about my manners. It would be the height of bad taste to toss a member of our family in need of assistance out into the street.”
“Yes, but I thought you would give her money, not invite her to move in.”
Though Rebecca was tall for a woman, Gray looked over her shoulder toward the massive, carved wooden staircase leading up to the floors above. “There are two separate wings and seventy bedrooms in this house. Put her somewhere she won’t bother you.”
“But—”
He started walking. “I won’t be down for supper. See that our guest has something to eat.” Rebecca generally ran the household, another reason he was surprised by his actions today. On the other hand, he was the earl, which his family seemed mostly to forget. Perhaps it was time he made the matter clear.
Gray continued down the hall, suddenly desperate to get back outside in the sunshine, away from the thick stone walls of the house. He wondered again why he had offered the woman his protection.
Undoubtedly, it was nothing more than boredom.
Still…
Five
“I cannot believe you actually did it.” Allison perched on a tapestry stool in front of the dressing table in the bedroom they had been assigned. It sat at the farthest end of the east wing of the house, a room that had not been refurbished, as had most of the other bedrooms Corrie had passed along the corridor.
The massive carved four-poster bed was a remnant of some lost century, and the Persian carpet was faded. The tassels on the dark green velvet draperies were frayed in several places, the curtains themselves so heavy they blocked the sun.
Still, it would do and quite nicely, since its distant location would also make it easier for Corrie to move about the house without being seen. She surveyed her quarters. The sheets on the bed were clean and, at her request, an adjoining room had been prepared for Allison, who was a companion, Corrie had explained, as well as her lady’s maid.
Corrie felt a shot of triumph that they had succeeded thus far.
“I don’t think your dear cousin Rebecca is happy to have another relative in the house,” Allison said, lifting one of Corrie’s mended gowns out of the trunk and hanging it in the rosewood armoire in the corner.
“Apparently not.” But it didn’t really matter. Corrie was there and she meant to stay until either she had the answers to her questions or she was forced to leave.
“So what do we do now?”
She had given the matter a good deal of thought. “To begin with, since you are supposed to be a servant, I am hoping that the upper-staff will eventually accept you, and perhaps you will be able to get them to talk a bit about the scandal at Selkirk Hall. Laurel’s death would be commonly known hereabouts, though Father did his best to keep the fact of the child a secret after the medical report was made. There is always gossip in a household this size. If Laurel was involved with the earl, perhaps one of them will know.”
“That is a very good notion, Cor—I mean, Letty.”
“And I shall seek out the people who live in the house. I have yet to meet Charles. I was invited to supper, but I declined. I didn’t wish to seem too eager. And I wanted a bit of time to compose myself, perhaps take a stroll round the house. In the meantime, why don’t you go down and have some supper? I’ll see you before I retire.”
Allison left the bedroom, and Corrie, dressed in a more comfortable gown of printed blue muslin and leaving her bonnet behind, followed the carpet along the hall to the stairs at the end of the east wing. By now, supper was under way and she could move about without causing a stir. Still, she didn’t want to appear as if she might have some ulterior motive—which of course she did.
With her nerves still strung taut from her encounter with the earl, she decided to go out to the garden. Descending a narrow staircase at the end of the hall, she pushed through a door into the cool night air. It was pleasant outside the house, and she was, she discovered as she moved along the terrace, in desperate need of a calming breath of air.
The first thing she noticed was how different it was in the country at night. The air was so clean and fresh, with not a particle of soot in the gentle breeze blowing over the landscape.
She hadn’t been to the country in so many years it had never occurred to her to notice, not until tonight. Even house parties she attended had been, for the most part, held in homes at the edge of the city. Out here, the stars were so bright she could make out the constellations she had learned to name at Briarwood Academy. There was Orion, she saw, silently picking out each star, and the Big Dipper.
She wondered if Laurel had looked at the stars with Grayson Forsythe.
The thought darkened Corrie’s mood. She stepped off the terrace and began to meander along one of the paths. The garden was lush, the leaves of the thick green plants flowing over the gravel walkways lit by burning torches. There were no gas lamps out here, as there were in her father’s garden in the city, and somehow she liked the way the light flickered yellow and orange and cast dancing shadows against the leaves.
Corrie wandered the rambling paths, trying to collect her thoughts, plan her next move. She was rounding a corner of the path when she suddenly bumped headlong into a tall figure she hadn’t seen standing in the darkness. Sucking in a breath, she scrambled to keep from falling.
A big hand shot out and caught her round the waist, pulled her upright before she took an embarrassing tumble.
“Easy.”
Her stomach jerked at the sound of the deep male voice. Her gaze traveled upward, over a broad chest, up even farther to the dark, probing eyes of the earl.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked with a hint of accusation in his tone. “Why aren’t you at supper?”
“Why aren’t you?” she countered, wishing the man was anywhere except here. She caught herself. She wasn’t a reporter doing a job; she was playing a role and she had better remember that. “I mean, I wasn’t really hungry and I needed some air. It was a long ride in the carriage. I didn’t think you would mind.”
He studied her a moment, then turned his gaze toward the fountain bubbling a few feet farther down the path. “You enjoy being out-of-doors?”
Not really. She enjoyed dancing in lavish ballrooms, attending the opera, the theater, and dining in fine restaurants. At least she had until tonight.
“It’s extremely pleasant out here. I never realized how clean the air would be.”
One of his sleek black eyebrows went up. “I spoke to Charles. He said that from what he recalled, Cyrus Moss lived on a farm.”
Oh, dear Lord. “Well, yes…yes, of course, but…but there were animals, you know…and they smelled quite unpleasant, all those cows and sheep.” What in the world was the matter with her? She sounded like a complete and utter ninny. Then again, it was probably better that way. The less intelligent she seemed, the less threatening she would appear.
Tremaine’s gaze narrowed a moment, then the corners of his lips edged up—full sensuous lips that sent a funny little shiver into her stomach. “Somehow I have trouble imagining you tending a flock of sheep.”
Never had a truer statement been made. She wished she’d had more information on Cyrus. It simply wasn’t available, at least not quickly enough. “Well, I didn’t do that sort of thing. Cyrus was very protective. He barely allowed me outside the house.”
“I see. How long did you say you and Cyrus were together?”
What had she told him before? Sweet saints, she couldn’t recall. “It was not quite a year.”
For an instant his eyes seemed to sharpen, and she was terrified she had said the wrong thing.
“I suppose you miss him,” the earl continued mildly, and she relaxed once more into her role.
“Why, yes, of course I…” She meant to continue the lie, then decided it was wiser to stay closer to the truth. She would hardly miss a man who had left her high and dry as Cyrus had done! “That isn’t completely true. I know I should miss him, since he is my husband, but Cyrus was much older than I, and after the way he abandoned me, it is difficult to feel more than resentment toward him.”
“I can understand your feelings.” The earl’s gaze assessed her, moved along her throat and over her bosom, down to the span of her waist, a slow, thorough perusal that made it suddenly hard to breathe.
“You…you do?” He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the power in his tall, masculine frame.
He was wearing a clean white shirt and a pair of black trousers fitted closely, as was the style, but no coat or waistcoat. His hair was clubbed back as it had been before. Corrie realized he was a man who paid little heed to convention. Combined with the rumors she had heard, it made him terribly intriguing.
She didn’t think he was wearing cologne, and yet she caught the faint, pleasant scent of sandalwood, and wondered at the source. The fragrance seemed to wrap around her, fill each of her senses, and she trembled.
“You’re cold. Perhaps you should go back inside.”
She swallowed. “Yes…yes, I believe that’s a good idea.” But she wasn’t cold in the least. In fact, she felt overly warm. He made a faint bow, his black hair gleaming in the light of the torches, and she felt a strange pull low in her belly.
“Good night, Mrs. Moss.”
She stepped backward as if to protect herself. “Good night, my lord.” Then she turned and started down the path.
She was used to men’s attentions. She was the daughter of a viscount, after all, and though she was a bit too outspoken, perhaps a bit willful, she knew that when she was ready for marriage, she would not lack for suitors. She enjoyed the company of men, had never been afraid of a man before, yet now, as she fled the garden, Corrie had to force herself not to run.
Gray watched the petite young woman with the fiery curls hurrying off down the garden path. In the light of the torches, she was lovely—skin as smooth as glass, luminous green eyes, and a lush mouth the color of roses. She was a beautiful woman, small but elegant, the sort to make a man think of silk sheets and even silkier thighs, though Gray suspected that perhaps she did not truly know that.
Still, she was not at all what she wanted him to believe, and that made him wary.
Gray made a rude sound in his throat. She had told him she’d lived with his cousin for more than a year, then said it was less. It was obvious she had never lived in the country, to say nothing of on a farm. Who was she? he wondered again.
For the past two years, since Jillian had died, Gray had felt restless in a way he never had before. The few women he had bedded had given him little satisfaction, just a few brief hours of sexual relief. He felt as if he had no purpose, no direction.
When he had first inherited the earldom, he’d had so much to do he’d had little time to think, had been exhausted at the end of each day. There was a great deal to learn about being an earl, and Gray had enjoyed the challenge. He had enjoyed his life, and his bachelorhood. He’d had any number of mistresses back then, and though he had tired of them easily, he always saw them well settled when the brief affair was over.
Then he’d been introduced to Jillian. She was young and beautiful, though a little too shy and a bit more reserved than perhaps he would have liked. But it was time he took a wife, time he did his duty and provided an heir, and Jillian and her family had seemed eager for the match.
Ten months later his wife was dead and he was once more alone.
Gray moved silently along the west wing hallway toward the master’s suite. Since Jillian’s death, he’d grown more and more restless, prowling the estate, searching for something but unable to discover what it was. With the arrival of the woman, for the first time in weeks he felt his interest piqued. Letty Moss posed a mystery and Gray meant to solve it.
He reached his suite, pulled open the heavy carved door and went into the rooms that had belonged to his father. The sitting room, with its gold velvet draperies and dark oak furniture, stirred unpleasant memories and somehow weighed Gray down. He walked on through, his mind returning to Letty Moss and what he might discover about her.
“Good evening, sahib.” His manservant, Samir Ramaloo, walked out of the bathing chamber adjoining the bedroom. Wisps of steam from the marble tub, prepared for Gray’s nightly bath, followed in his wake.
“Good evening, Samir.” The small, dark-skinned man had been Gray’s manservant in India during the three years he had served there in the army. Each officer kept a full retinue of servants, staff necessary for surviving the hot, arid, demanding climate.
With his impeccable service, Samir had made himself indispensable. He had also become Gray’s teacher, introducing him to the customs and conventions of the exotic land, and giving him the insight to appreciate a country so different from his own. More than a servant, Samir was his friend—and the wisest man Gray had ever known.
“Your bath is ready, sire,” he said now, glancing up with eyes so black they looked like bottomless pits.
Gray merely nodded and continued past him toward the marble bathing room.
“Your mind is far away,” the Hindu said, knowing him well enough to sense that something was on his mind. “You think of the woman. I saw her this morning when she arrived and again tonight. She is very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.” She was lovely, like a perfectly modeled porcelain doll. Likely with the same empty head. She had presented herself as a young wife married briefly, then abandoned by her husband. Gray knew women, and as skittish as this one was, he was sure she had barely known the touch of a man, and probably had never known fulfillment.
It made her story somewhat convincing, and yet he believed there was far more to her tale.
Interesting. That was Letty Moss.
Samir helped Gray disrobe, then stood aside as he stepped into the steaming water and settled his shoulders against the back of the marble tub.
“It is said the woman is your cousin.”
Gray scoffed. “By marriage, and so far distant the relationship is meaningless.”
“She has no husband?”
“She’s married. The man left her penniless and went off to seek his fortune.”
“Ah, then she is in need of a protector—and you are in need of a woman. You ignore the desires of the flesh, but they gnaw like a beast inside you. Perhaps you can give this woman what she needs and she will do the same for you.”
“She has a head full of feathers,” he said, trying to convince himself Samir’s words held no appeal, “and she is not what she seems.”
“Ah, a puzzle for you to solve. That is what makes her interesting.”
“She is that. I’m not sure why she’s here, but I intend to find out.”
“That is good. Then you can allow yourself to pleasure the woman and enjoy her yourself. I will see what I can learn that might be of use.”
Gray made no reply. He needed to keep a close eye on his so-called cousin, make sure she didn’t cause any problems. Samir’s watchful gaze might be helpful.
Whatever her story, Gray would soon find out the truth.
And perhaps, as Samir suggested, once he knew it, there could be other, more intimate things about Letty Moss he might find out.
Corrie’s heart pounded madly as she hurried along the hall toward her bedroom. She didn’t like the feeling at all. She reached her room, pulled open the door, and found Allison waiting inside.
“I thought you might need help getting out of your gown,” she said.
“Thank you, Ally.” Though she could certainly use the help with her buttons and corset, Corrie wasn’t all that happy to find the dark-haired girl there. Not while her own mind was still swirling, replaying those unsettling moments with the earl in the garden.
“Did you find out anything useful?” Allison asked as she crossed the room.
