Page 68 of The Mistletoe Countess
“Indeed it is.” Lavenia studied Grace over her teacup, hesitating. “A large, lonely place in need of some young spirit to rewrite its stories and sort out its mysteries.”
Mysteries? Grace blinked. “Speaking of mysteries.” She popped up from her seat. Where had she placed her books? “I discovered one today.”
She retrieved her books from the study and returned, tugging out the letter. “I found something when I got lost in the house this morning.” She sat next to Frederick on the settee. “I think it’s from your brother.”
“My brother?” He took the paper from her, his face paling as he scanned the note. “You…you were in the east wing?”
“I believe so. We certainly didn’t venture there on our tour, but perhaps the letter will bring you some small comfort. It seems your brother thought he’d wronged you.”
Frederick sat back, rubbing his chin as he read the letter. Aunt Lavenia held out her hand for a turn, and Frederick offered a hesitant allowance. His expression gave little away, certainly nothing to help Grace sort out anything related to a possible murder. With their new intimacy, should she be able to read his thoughts a bit better? She pursed her lips in con-centration as she stared at him and frowned when nothing materialized in her head. Oh well, perhaps it would take a little longer.
“There’s more than that, Grace.” Aunt Lavenia looked up from the paper. “This letter hints to a scandal about which I’ve pondered since Edward’s death. Something is definitely amiss, and I think we’ve finally found direction for answers.”
What did this mean?
Frederick reread the letter, his brother’s handwriting a bittersweet stab to Frederick’s grief. He should have been the one to discover this months ago. Overwhelmed by his new responsibilities as earl, he’d stayed away from the east wing at his mother’s request and due to his own regret. He’d had an estate to rescue. It had seemed easier at the time to forge ahead into estate business. But what had he overlooked in the process?
“Was I right in bringing it to you?”
Grace’s touch to his arm brought him back to the present. “Yes.” He nodded. “I’ve needed to explore the east wing, and this proves the fact. It’s only, I didn’t know if I could—”
“We can do it together.”
His bride. She offered such confidence, kindness. He cleared the emotions closing off his voice.
“Perhaps Parks can provide some insight, Frederick.” Aunt Lavenia took another sip of her tea. “This may not be the first letter of its kind.”
Frederick cringed. If his brother’s best friend would even talk to him.
“You know where I stand about past sins and all that. I’m a clergyman’s wife. I’ve heard it all, and I know you’ve tried to make things right.” Lavenia’s hand rested on his shoulder. “But there’s something quite dark about your brother’s words and the implications about his wife. I never liked her.” She offered a knowing nod along with a wag of her finger. “And I’m quite keen on such things.”
Celia. Frederick had stayed clear of Celia Blackmore ever since his return to England. She was poison, the reason for the rift between Frederick and his brother, and no doubt her influence contributed to the downward fall of Havensbrooke.
But a murderer? His gaze traveled to his wife—the very contradic-tion. She studied him with those intelligent eyes of hers, her imagination most likely conjuring up all sorts of scenarios.
“I’ll leave the two of you to talk this over, but know this”—Aunt Lavenia pointed at him, those pale blue eyes flaming—“I’m a decent shot should things turn less than savory.” Her fingers wiggled in the air. “And of course, I’ll pray, especially to keep us free from the need for my shooting.”
“You know how to fire pistols?”
Frederick stifled a groan at Grace’s question. Introducing the two of them would probably prove catastrophic for his peace of mind.
Aunt Lavenia’s grin broadened into a saucy boast. “It’s not a widely known fact, my dear, as you can understand. After all, I’m a clergyman’s wife, and knowledge of my use of pistols doesn’t bode well with most parishioners.”
Grace sent him a wide-eyed grin over Lavenia’s shoulder as his aunt took Grace in another hug.
Oh Lord, give me strength.
Could the house manage two such personalities in the same room for very long?
“Don’t you wish to see your sister while you’re here, Aunt Lavenia?” Frederick diverted the conversation in case Lavenia decided to offer Grace shooting lessons on the spot. “You might do her some good.”
“I’m not certain how much good I’ll do.” Lavenia’s gaze moved to the stairway just beyond the Green Room door. “The woman drinks despair like brandy.”
Grace’s laugh echoed through the room.
“It’s true dear. She can hold a grudge better than St. Peter could catch a fish.” She shook her head and turned back to them, standing. “I’ll take her some tea, and we’ll see how things go.”
“She’s kept herself to her rooms since I threatened to find her a dower house,” Frederick added.
