Secrets in Mourning (2 page)

A rich, husky laugh escaped his lips. “It is only the country, Victoria. I doubt you will perish there.”

She arched a brow. “I could die of boredom.”

“I think not.”

Heaving a sigh, she finally nodded. He was right.
 
The money wasn’t something she would walk away from.

“Will you accompany me?”

He shook his head, the light catching on the inky shine in his hair, and she couldn’t help but think of how much they looked alike. With the same ebony hair, icy blue eyes, and patrician nose, they could be mistaken for twins if he wasn’t several years her senior. “Unfortunately, I can’t. You will have to travel with a servant.”

 
“All right, then. I’ll plan to leave in three days. That should give me enough time to say my goodbyes. With my belongings already packed for the wedding, there shouldn’t be much else to do.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.” Moving closer to her, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, speaking quietly. “I am sorry for all of this. I know it isn’t what you wished for.”

Her heart lurched. He was the only one who understood her. The only one who knew what had driven her to marry a duke.

And he knew how difficult it was for her to leave London.

Chapter 2

Her brother’s final words haunted her over the next few days and through the rest of her journey to Scotland. His sympathy toughened her resolve.

She knew she hadn’t been the best of passengers, always demanding that the driver stop or slow down, snapping at him for driving the carriage too roughly.

She was aware that her behavior was shrewish, but she couldn’t seem to stop. If she were being honest with herself, she would have to admit that her habit of expressing her opinions often did more harm than good. Yet her social circle, taken with her beauty, charm, and social status, had borne her sharpness with patience and grace; hence, Victoria had never really found it necessary to curb her tongue.

Reclining on the upholstered bench, she closed her eyes, knowing they would reach their destination within a few hours.

And it wasn’t a moment too soon.

She continually cursed the old Duke for forcing this upon her, but no matter how uncomfortable she was, she wouldn’t consider relinquishing a fortune.
  
The old woman couldn’t be that much trouble.

She would have a suite of rooms, and the year would pass by quickly. They had to have some type of society. They couldn’t all still be running around barefoot, barely clad in those skirts they called kilts. Could they?

The carriage made a slow turn and gravel crunched beneath the carriage wheels.

“We’ve arrived at Lynfield Hall, Your Grace,” the driver called to her from his perch.

“It’s about time,” she mumbled, knowing he couldn’t hear her. Despite her grumbling, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of anticipation. She wasn’t happy to be here, but she was happy that she had arrived, that she would be resting in comfort in a matter of minutes. And she could imagine lounging in bed the rest of the day, the plush bedding surrounding her in warmth and comfort, easing the aches of her travels.

The view of the manor was obstructed by a thick cluster of trees, their foliage as dense as a flock of geese scrambling for scraps of bread. The brisk wind that rustled through the leaves, and the birds that had made their residences there, made their own music as cattle grazed in a distant pasture of wildflowers.

The drive was long and straight, the road well maintained, and the surrounding land was a jewel. She had seen enough open spaces during her journey to back up her claim.

She imagined the manor would look the same, idyllic against the lush vegetation. The vision of glittering white stones, gently weathered from time, and the many sparkling windows that reflected the sun’s kisses, had her willing the carriage forward.

It would be an estate from a fairytale. She didn’t know how she knew, just that she did.

Maybe it was the sweetened air. She took a deep breath, sighing in pleasure. It was so different from the air in London. Fresh, clean, with a hint of tang that you could only find outdoors. It smelled of meadows and warm days at the lake. Hinted of magic.

It wasn’t especially hot today, but the sky was a bright, lightning blue. Not a cloud dared to mar its flawlessness.

Her heart pumped faster as the carriage gradually rolled to a stop. Suppressing the ridiculous urge to leap out of the vehicle and grasp her first look at her new home, she chided herself on her lack of control. There were most likely servants, or the lady herself, outside on the steps, waiting to greet her. She wasn’t about to make a bad first impression.

If there was anything she had learned in London ballrooms, it was that a first impression could never fully be erased.

Her back straight, she waited in the carriage with a facade of poise and patience, although she didn’t feel either at the moment.

With a click, the door swung open, sunlight beaming into the gloomy carriage, temporarily blinding her. Ignoring the bright spots in her vision, she descended the carriage steps like a queen, careful not to miss a step. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. There was no one outside to witness the disgrace.

Not a single person had turned out to greet her.

Flabbergasted, she could only stare at the entrance, completely astounded by their lack of manners. They should have been expecting her.

But this was Scotland, she thought in distaste. Perhaps they were as uncivilized as others had claimed.

What was she to do? Walk up to the door and knock? It was appalling.

Gritting her teeth, her only thoughts were on entering the house, ordering a bath, and collapsing into bed.

Her soft, kid-slippered foot climbed the first step, completely white against the almost black stone.

Black.

The stark color decimated the glittering, fairytale white she had envisioned. But as she slowly looked up, absorbing the dark, weathered stone, and the small paned windows that looked like the slitting eyes of an oppressive beast, she shuddered.

It was old, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that it was standing strong in its prime when William the Conqueror had arrived. But that was eight hundred years ago.

And she was expected to live here? How barbaric.

Snatching up her skirts, she marched to the door, knocking briskly. A twinge had her rubbing her gloved knuckles. The studded wood was sturdier than it looked.

As the seconds passed, Victoria’s patience began to wane.

Where were all the servants? Glancing over the vast estate, taking in the manicured gardens and clean walkways, she knew that many hands had labored to make it flourish. Yet not a single person was in sight.

With a faint groan, the door opened.

“Ah, Your Grace, I presume.” The older gentleman opened the door wider in invitation. “Please come in. You’ve been expected.”

“I’ve been expected?” Her spine straightened. “If I was expected, why was no one outside to greet me?”

The old man had the presumption to take a second look at her, his face scrunching up as if he smelled something foul. “My deepest regrets, Your Grace. The staff were otherwise occupied and could not be spared.”

“Fine, then.” It was useless to state her complaints to a servant. She would have to wait to speak with the Dowager Countess or the Earl about their lack of hospitality.

“Would you like to freshen up before you meet with the Dowager Countess?”

To have the meeting over with, allowing her to relax the rest of the evening, sounded like heaven. But no matter how she had been received, she could not go to the woman worn and covered in dirt from her travels. “Yes, thank you.”

“Follow me. I’ll lead you to your room.”

Stepping into the marbled foyer, she was surprised to see that it had been recently renovated. The wood paneling gleamed with new polish, and the floors sparkled in a way that was only possible with newly cut stone. The palate was tasteful in an array of light, clean colors, so different from the outside of the manor that it was hard to believe that they were the same building.

The carefully-laid carpets were thick beneath her feet, silencing her steps as she walked down the hall behind the slightly hunched servant. She smelled flowers and wasn’t surprised to see a combination of bottles and vases, bursting with color, in different nooks along the hallway. The manor seemed bright and orderly, but there was something eerie that cast a shadow over its cheerfulness.

As they walked down another corridor, she felt her unease intensify. The voices that normally carried in larger homes were absent.

If asked, she would wager that the butler and she were the only two people in the house. But that couldn’t be true. She would be meeting with the Dowager Countess in a few minutes. Plus, with the repairs and the carefully tended grounds, it was obvious that the estate employed an extensive staff.

“Where are the other servants?”

The man threw a look over his shoulder, telling her with his eyes to mind her own business, but eventually he grated out, “They are attending to their duties in other areas of the manor.”

She didn’t doubt his words, but it seemed so odd. She had never been on an estate that didn’t have at least a servant or two constantly underfoot.

With an ominous creak, he pushed open a thickly wooded door. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay. I hope you find it to your satisfaction.” Stepping back, he allowed her to enter the room first.

Her mouth fell open, but she immediately shut it. If she had been unsure of the recent remodel to the first floor, she wasn’t now. Her furnishings, while appearing sturdy, were several styles outdated and had surely seen better days. Faded by too much sunlight, and a bit frayed on the edges, one of the chairs adjacent to the fireplace was so melancholy that she took a step in retreat. “This is unacceptable. Surely there is an updated room that I may stay in.” She looked to the servant for confirmation. “I’m sure there has been some mistake.”

The man’s lips thinned into a flat line. “There has been no mistake, Your Grace. This is the room the Earl had made ready for you. Unfortunately, while the house is undergoing renovations, the guest wing has not yet been seen to. It isn’t often that the Earl has visitors.”

“I see. Well apparently this is another item I will have to take up with the Earl.”

The man didn’t blink. “A servant will bring up your trunks shortly. Use the bell pull next to the fireplace and a maid will be sent to lead you to the Dowager Countess.” Without even a by-your-leave, the man turned and stalked off.

Apparently, the servants were given too much rein at Lynfield Hall. That type of behavior would never be accepted elsewhere. The Earl and Dowager Countess must be completely ignorant of their servants’ conduct.

Moving to the wash stand, she tried to pour water into the receptacle before cursing.

Empty.

She replaced the pitcher with a look of distaste, realizing that the manor wasn’t as properly staffed as she had first thought. If the servants couldn’t manage the basic needs of a single guest, she shuddered to think of what else they neglected.

Good Lord, at this point she might even have to heat her own water. The thought filled her with horror.

“Never. I’ll hire my own servant if needs be.” She may be required to comfort the older woman, but she would never stoop to the position of a maid.

Inspecting herself in the mirror, she tidied her hair, smoothing the strands that had escaped the confines of her pins.