Page 19 of Death at Fournier Downs
She squirmed and wished she could take back the vow. “If I could only find the cottage and touch it, I might be able to learn something more useful.”
“I don’t want you going into those woods alone,” he said, his voice deeper than before.
Audrey bristled. “I would not be so dense as to go alone. I’m sure I can convince Cassie to come with me.”
“And several footmen,” he grumbled.
She rolled her eyes. But she understood his worry; she’d been rash when she’d gone in search for Mr. Fellows’s boat at the London docks. She’d put herself into direct danger to find evidence that would clear Philip’s name. However, tramping through the woods surrounding her own property did not seem equal to snooping around a suspected killer’s houseboat.
“Why don’t you like Lord Edgerton?” Hugh asked, rolling his shoulders to release tension from them.
She peered at him, taken aback by the question. “What makes you think I don’t like him?”
“The two of you didn’t share even a glance back there in the storeroom.” Hugh crossed his arms. “And he and the duke were frosty toward one another, to say the least.”
It wasn’t difficult to imagine that. In his insecurity, Lord Edgerton chose to mock Philip; and Philip, in his disdain for the baron, attempted to overlook his very existence. Had the duke not been married to his niece, perhaps Lord Edgerton would act as many others and try to ingratiate himself into Philip’s social circle. However, her uncle’s discomfort with Audrey and her ability was too formidable—and Philip’s animosity too apparent.
She turned toward a framed landscape on the wall, the colors drab, the composition uninspired. “We’ve never been close.”
“He is friends with Bainbury, I take it.”
“Yes.”
He had more questions; Audrey could sense him working to pace them. He’d once told her she was too brash, too obvious in her questioning technique, and now, she could feel his own patient technique being put into play.
“It was he who arranged for your betrothal to Bainbury?” He came closer to the landscape, pretending to observe it too.
She turned toward him. “What does this have to do with Charlotte?”
Hugh forgot the painting and met her stare. “I’m not yet sure. Maybe nothing.”
“Then why do you want to know?”
“Does the baron know what you can do?”
Audrey inhaled a short breath. Hugh Marsden was certainly adept at side stepping at a dizzying rate.
“Yes,” she answered, refusing to show herself as discomposed. “My mother and sister do as well.”
This seemed to surprise him. His brow jumped briefly before smoothing out again. “What is their opinion of it?”
“To hold an opinion of it would mean to acknowledge it, and they refuse to do that. So, I’m afraid I can only speculate that they think me…strange.”
Hugh did not know about her stay at Shadewell. The ton believed she had taken a tour of the Continent and then been visiting with her great aunt in Scotland for the two dreadful years she was confined to the institution. She’d missed her first Season because of it, and her mother and uncle had made some excuse about her poor health and the need to stay in Scotland a bit longer.
They likely had not felt much guilt about the lie, since it was, in some way, based in truth. The sanatorium wasnearlyin Scotland, and her healthhadbeen poor—though not until after her committal. While she had endeavored to bury the memories from those few years there, some persisted. Not all of them were horrible, however. She had found a place for herself at Shadewell at least, in the library with others like her—patients who were of sound mind but had been sent away for one reason or another. They were superficial friendships, really. Nothing that had lasted once she’d been discharged.
After her release, Audrey had spent a few months at Haverfield before the Little Season in September. By October, her uncle had arranged the betrothal with Bainbury. It was more than clear her mother and Lord Edgerton did not wish to subject Audrey to a proper Season and risk her oddity becoming known. It was absurd, as by then she knew better than to tell anyone. She’d made a drastic mistake in thinking that her ability was something special, something that she could share with those closest to her.
Until she’d met Hugh Marsden, she had sealed up that part of herself and vowed to ignore it forevermore.
He tensed one eye, something he did when contemplating, as if he could somehow peer at the thought a bit closer. “If Lord Edgerton is aware of your ability, I worry he suspects you know more than you are saying.”
Audrey was surprised at herself for not yet thinking of that. She’d become so accustomed to her family’s dismissal that she’d resolved to dismiss them as well. Still, Hugh’s suggestion didn’t concern her.
“Even if he does, he won’t acknowledge it. He can barely bring himself to acknowledgeme. If not for my status as duchess, they would be happy to forget I existed at all.”
She didn’t mean to sound self-pitying; she didn’t mourn the loss of her blood ties in the least.
