Page 41 of Never Dare a Duke
“You wouldn’t think so,” Abigail muttered, knowing how much her comfort depended on the proper corset.
One by one, the other women had found what they were looking for and descended the stairs. By the time Abigail and Gwen finished, the only remaining person was Lady Elizabeth, and as they were admiring their gowns, they realized that she was waiting for them.
“Do you mind if we linger and explore the trunks?” Abigail asked. “I keep thinking I’ll find a dress that suits me better.”
Lady Elizabeth glanced at the stairs, then back with worry. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t mind staying.”
“Oh, no, please go on ahead,” Gwen said, waving her away. “Dressmaking is so interesting! We are comparing the way gowns were designed in the eighteenth century and now. It is rather our hobby. We find that the stitching…”
And as Gwen went on, Lady Elizabeth’s eyes seemed to lose focus. When Gwen took a breath, Lady Elizabeth shot to her feet.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said quickly. “What an interesting hobby you have!”
And she was far too young to make that sound believable. When she’d gone, Gwen and Abigail exchanged an amused glance.
“You were excellent,” Abigail said. “Wait a few minutes, then you go on ahead, too. You can take the gowns and find a maid to begin alterations. If yours is done quickly, tell her to just start letting out the bodice on mine. I shall be along eventually.”
“Are you certain you won’t mind being alone up here?” Gwen asked, glancing around uneasily.
Most of the lamps had been taken by women to guide their way down the stairs. There were only two left.
“I’ll be fine,” Abigail said with an enthusiasm she didn’t have to pretend. “The worst that can happen is that I’ll discover something for the ghost hunt from the ghost himself.”
Gwen groaned more than laughed. “I’ll leave you both lamps. The light at the bottom will do well enough to guide my way. Have fun!”
When she was alone, Abigail noticed that she could hear the wind outside much more clearly than in her room. A storm must be brewing. The windows rattled occasionally, and she felt the chill of a draft, but soon she didn’t notice anything as she moved to a new group of trunks. She opened one and had to restrain herself from giggling with delight, for there were dozens of notebooks. Could there be a journal or a lady’s diary? One by one she took each out, glancing through them quickly. To her dismay, they were household account books from fifty years ago. Eventually, she repacked that trunk and moved on to the next. These contained records of servants from the previous century. She even glanced through several to see if anything of a personal nature had been written, in case she stumbled on a ghost clue for Gwen and Mr. Wesley. Did no one save letters in this household? She grimly moved on to the next trunk, knowing that her time was running out. Luncheon would soon be served. She needed to find something that would help her to understand the duke.
While Christopher was looking over the account books in his study, Elizabeth poked her head in.
“Wait until you see my gown!” she cried, her eyes alight with laughter.
“Everyone has a costume already?” He had been hoping for more time alone to work since he’d been so distracted the last few days.
“Well, almost everyone.”
“And who cannot make up her mind?”
“Lady Gwendolin and Miss Shaw. I hated leaving them alone up there, but they insisted. Imagine, they actually enjoy historical clothing as a hobby!”
Christopher’s suspicions flared back to life. “Isn’t it almost time for luncheon?”
“It is, and I hate to delay. You know how Cook can be.”
He stood up. “Then I’ll go see what is keeping them.”
Elizabeth grinned as if she thought she knew what his motives were and had deliberately given him an excuse to be with Abigail. But all she said was, “I do not wish to keep you from work…”
“Nonsense. I am happy to be of assistance.”
“We entered the attics in the lady’s wing. I imagine Mama will forgive you just this once for stepping foot there.”
As if I haven’t been in the lady’s wing before,he thought dryly. His sister’s naïveté reassured him. And, of course, he hadn’t been there in many long years, once he’d realized that women of his own class did not make trustworthy—or scandal-free—bed partners.
He found the door to the attics still open and went up, prepared to find the two women giving a guilty start when they saw him. The attics were just as he remembered them when he used to explore on rainy days. He looked around and saw no one, although a lamp still gleamed beside him.
Had they forgotten to take it with them when they left?
And then he heard the sound of a trunk closing and stepped out of the shadow of light. He realized that across several rows of trunks and crates and old furniture, another lamp shone low to the floor. But he heard no voices. Surely, if Lady Gwen was still here, he would hear her “discussing” their supposed hobby. Or discussing something; she always had something to say.
