Page 29 of Her Magnificent Mistake
“Do you need any help getting dressed, milady?” came Gabby’s question, her tone laced with knowing laughter.
The minxknewMarcia was used to going without a maid, and her clothing usually reflected that. Scowling down at the gown Bull had chosen, she called out, “Oh, get in here.”
Gabby made a show of curtseying low in the doorway, then kicked the door shut behind her incongruously. “Smythe-Smith-Smythe is here to serve you,milady. I wish we had chosen an easier name,milady. Even I am getting confused,milady.”
“Oh, stop it,” Marcia grumbled, turning around to offer her back to Gabby. “And get me out of this thing, please. I hate it.”
Humming, Gabby stepped up and began to undo the tiny buttons. “That is because this is an evening gown. Totally inappropriate for a morning of—whatareyou planning on doing today?”
As Marcia held her cousin’s shoulder carefully and stepped out of the dratted gown, she grumbled, “More paperwork, I assume. I have been pouring over the ledgers and paperwork for five days now, but found nothing. The blue skirt, I think.”
This last was suggested as Gabby finished hanging the gown and hesitated over which clothing to pull down. “Oh, yes, madam, afine choice,” the younger woman intoned, keeping up herloyal retaineract. “And the matching jacket, does madam believe would suit?”
Sticking out her tongue, Marcia snatched the clothing from her cousin and began to wriggle into the shirt. “Look, Smith-Smythe-Smooth, if you did not want the job, you did not need to take it.”
“And miss the opportunity to embed myself in one of yours and Bull’s outlandish schemes?” Gabby pretended shock, placing a hand on her cheek in mild surprise. “I wouldnever. Besides…” She shrugged. “You needed someone to chaperone you and cozy up to the servants—I have perfected mydowntrodden massesmonologue, if you want to hear it sometime. I almost received a round of applause at the last declaration.”
As her cousin plopped onto the bed, her weight supported by her palms and her feet kicking idly, Marcia buttoned the front of the blouse. “And have you heardanythingwe could use as evidence? At this point, I would be happy with a whispered rumor—Hawk’s irritation at being passed over, resentment toward his cousins, delight at inheritinganything. I mean, a receipt for a bottle of poison would be handy, though, or a note scrawled in blood saying ‘Hahahaha! Mad, they called me, mad!’ Surely the kitchens have something?”
Gabby shrugged. “Nothing, I am afraid. Oh, there are some fascinating tales belowstairs, and Mrs. McGillicuddy will tell them all if you give her a wee sherry…”
“Anything about the steward, Michaelson?” Pulling the skirt over her head muffled Marcia’s words a bit, but she struggled free. “Hawk and I found some evidence that he’s been doing…well, it is either modest embezzlement, or the man has a strange fondness for animal food.”
“Oh, yes!” Her cousin’s eyes brightened, and she shifted her elbows to her knees, leaning forward to impart the gossip. “McGillicuddy told me that late yesterday afternoon, the baron called Michaelson in and gave him aseverescolding—those were her words, not mine, and the steward stalked out, grumbling.”
Marcia paused in the middle of buttoning her skirt. “Did she saywhathe was grumbling? Any possibility he was Hawk’s ally in some sort of scheme, and could be turned against him?”
With a reluctant shake of her head, the other woman admitted, “I have heard nothing remotely suspicious. Except possibly for Michaelson, the servants here think the world of ‘Master Hawk.’ They are glad he has brought Allison here to live as well. McGillicuddy said it has been too long since they had young blood around here.”
Hmm.Unconsciously, Marcia tapped her finger against her lips as she began to pace. It was easier to think when she moved. “And does McGillicuddy—any of them—have insight into why Allison is living here? I mean, why is Hawk her guardian?”
“Her father was his older brother—they were not close, but he died here a decade ago. She became Hawk’s ward, and he sent her off to school because he did not have a real home.”
Was that why? Or was it because he didn’t want anyone close to him as he began to plot his nefarious schemes? Had Marcia in some way influenced him?
Damn! It was impossible to know. “I had the impression they were not…close. Hawk and Allison,” she amended.
Gabby straightened, shrugging. “From what I have heard, they barely knew one another before he brought her to live here when he gained the title. McGillicuddy makes her childhood sound sad and lonely, but Allison does notseemlike she has suffered much.”
“And if anything, the two of them have been closer in the last week,” Marcia mused. She’d seen the tentative trust and love blooming between guardian and ward in only a few days, and to her surprise, had enjoyed being a part of that, and getting to know the girl. “It seems likely that he left the lass at school for some reason, and now that he has a home, he is growing to know and respect her as a person.”
Was it possible the murder scheme had been concocted originally as some way to benefit Allison? Some kind of reward for the girl, or a way to give her a home?
But Gabby shrugged. “I cannot help with that, since I have not seen them interact. What with me being stuck belowstairs,milady. Being a maid,milady.”
With a snort, Marcia swung back toward the jacket Gabby had chosen. “Well, what is the general consensus among the servants about Hawk, Smith-Smythe-Smack?”
The reply was immediate. “They respect him because he listens and values their opinions. They call him fair, and they trust him to do the best for Tostinham.”
Marcia’s eyes fluttered closed in defeat. Yes, that sounded like Hawk. Fair-minded, strong, and cared deeply for Tostinham. How dare he be so…sohonorable. “But did he kill to get here?” she whispered.
It wasn’t until Gabby responded that she realized she’d said it out loud.
“I do not know,” her cousin admitted with a wince in her tone. “Are you certain he did?”
With a sigh, Marcia opened her eyes and began to tuck in various articles of clothing into various other articles of clothing, her moves efficient and practiced after years of doing for herself.
“I was certain, because Bull was certain.” She hesitated. “He was certain because Prin—I mean, because his Crown contact was certain.” She trusted Gabby, but there were some things that weren’t necessary for her to know. “But now…?” She shook her head and scooped up the little shrug jacket that matched her blue skirt. “None of us can find any evidence.”
