Page 29 of Nature of the Crime
“I hope you aren’t angry with me, Your Grace.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. “I am stunned, not angry.”
Feeling rushed back into her limbs, but she couldn’t bring herself to look Greer in the eye. “You must think horribly of me. I’ve been lying this whole time.”
Greer canted her head. “They are not your lies.”
The response stopped her head from spinning. It wasn’t what she’d expected from her maid. A round denial of thinking terribly of her, perhaps, but not this. Greer was correct in that Philip had designed the lies, but he could not have carried them out alone.
“I’ve been upholding them,” she said.
Her maid’s facial expressions were generally sedate and invariable, but right then her forehead creased with astonishment. “What else could you have done? Given the duke’s choices, you are doing the only thing you can. I cannot think badly of you for that, Your Grace.”
Rationally, she knew Greer was right. And it did lift her heart having her maid’s support and compassion. But even with the reminder of her limited choices, her worry flourished.
“I am relieved you feel that way,” she said. “But I’m also concerned. If Grayson told you, even out of precaution, it is entirely possible he spoke to someone else too. Maybe another person he thought should know.”
Greer nodded. At her temples, wisps of her hair, pulled back into a plain knot at the base of her neck, had started to crimp from the humidity in the room. “I did worry over the same thing after he confided in me, but…I hoped I was being excessively cautious.”
Audrey didn’t have the note with her but divulged to Greer what had been left for her in her Paris hotel room. With her usual composure, she merely nodded.
“You believe the private inquiry agent was hired by someone who knows the duke is…” She eyed the closed door and didn’t finish.
“Yes. Lord Neatham and I both do.” She then licked her lips. It was time to confide everything in her trusted maid. “The viscount knows the truth.”
A faint grin touched Greer’s lips. “I suspected as much.” At Audrey’s startled reaction, she explained. “You are not a dishonest person. You could not deceive someone who cares for you the way the viscount does.”
The bathwater was quickly cooling, but she still flushed. “I cannot hide anything from you, can I?” Audrey asked with a bashful laugh. Goodness, Greer probably even knew about Hugh’s visit the previous night.
“You don’t have to, Your Grace,” she replied evenly. “I would never betray you.”
Audrey grew serious again. Philip had believed that his valet was just as devoted. Whether purposefully or accidentally, the risk that Grayson had let slip the truth now loomed like a storm cloud.
“Thank you, Greer. I don’t know what I would do without you.” With a sly grin, she added, “Or Carrigan.”
She had never seen Greer blush, but now, two spots of pink touched the apples of her cheeks. The warmth of the small closet may have helped it along. Audrey splashed in the water as she drew up her legs and leaned forward to rest her chin on the edge of the tub. Her driver and maid were reserved to a fault, and they had been appropriately subtle, but they had not been able to entirely conceal their growing relationship.
“Is there anything I should be aware of?”
Greer’s answering grin was so shy and sweet, Audrey nearly squeaked with delight.
“Not just yet, Your Grace.”
Knowing her maid as she did, that would be the extent of her confession on the matter, so Audrey relented.
“Well, when thereisnews to share, I will be most overjoyed.” She took up the soapy cloth, which had been forgotten in the cooling water. “Let’s hurry. I need to speak to Lord Neatham about a visit to Folkestone.”
Chapter
Twelve
By the next morning, the winds had calmed enough for Hugh to saddle a horse for a ride south along the coast. Traveling to Folkestone by carriage might have been warmer, but it would also be slower. Time was of the essence. There had been two murders so far, and Hugh was determined that there would not be a third. So, warm clothing, a heavy greatcoat, gloves, hat, and scarf would just have to carry him through.
The evening before, Greer had knocked upon his door and asked him to come have a word with Her Grace. Hugh had followed the maid down the short hall, curious. With the military guard placed at the top of the landing looking on, he’d met with Audrey within the open threshold to her room. Briefly, and in hushed tones, she’d explained about the valet, Daniel Grayson, and that he might have some responsibility in exposing the duke’s scheme.
“If you find him, he might be persuaded to confess who else, in addition to Greer, he told,” she’d whispered.
“Unless he’s taken another position already and is no longer in Folkestone,” Hugh said.
