Page 23 of Her Magnificent Mistake
Marcia assumed she’d done something to scare him off, but wasn’t certain what. In the first few hours after their arrival at Tostinham, she’d done her best to act like a shameless Society lady, one who would encourage a liaison with a scarred forester-turned-murderer-turned-Baron like Hawk.
She had simpered. She had flirted. She’d even done the weird toes under the table thing, which had turned out far more titillating than she had expected.
But he’d seemed uninterested.
Or possibly evenscared?
The Hawk she’d fallen in love with—enthusiastically principled, and rather adorably awkward—would have had the same reaction. But…surelyhe’d changed in the last decade? After all, any man who could heartlessly murder at least three members ofhis own family in order to gain a titlemustbe depraved enough to enjoy flirting with willing bed partners?
Perhaps he is not depraved enough to take you up on your offer.
Damn. That was an insulting thought.
On the other hand, perhaps throwing herself into a murderer’s bed had been a foolish plan. She’d decided to seduce Hawk in order to get the information she needed, certain in the knowledge that he wouldn’treallyhurt her.
But…would he? A man who’d murdered at least four others for his title wouldn’t hesitate to do so again to keep it, right? Did she need to be scared of him? Or would the self-defense skills she’d learned over the years—the skills she’d learned from her father and taught to others—keep her safe?
Frowning, Marcia ghosted along the corridors of Tostinham, hoping to surprise Hawk. Once she found him, perhaps she could surprise him into confessing to a murder or three as well—because the longer she stayed here, and the longer he avoided her, the more humiliated she became at his rejections.
Rupert was no help in the investigation, even though he had all the details. His intention had been to spend time in Tostinham’s library and discover what he could about the estate’s finances, while Marcia distracted Hawk.
Unfortunately, her idiot brother had spent the last two days far more interested in Hawk’s niece, and the “veritable wealth of information in her beautiful brain, Marsh!” than anything else. Marcia had to forgive him, because it had been a while since she’d seen him so enamored with something that didn’t come sandwiched between two covers, or pinned beneath a microscope.
Hehadbeen able to share that his “new” valet, McMackinacker, was completely useless. Apparently, the young man knew little about a gentleman’s ablutions and less about clothing, and Rupert had taken to waking up early to dress himself. But the footmanwasfond of gambling, Rupert whispered, and deeply in debt.
Deep enough in debt to help his master with a murderous scheme? Rupert vowed to pump the young man for information…in between his mooning over Allison.
Gabby, on the other hand, had been quite helpful in investigating the case; casually interviewing servants, digging into the estate history, that sort of thing.
Marcia had grown up calling Gabby a cousin, although their relationship was a little harder to define. Gabby and her twin brother Hunter had been fathered—illegitimately—by one of Bull’s older legitimate brothers. His brother Rourke raised them with all the benefits of his own children. While Gabby still sometimes teasingly called Bull “uncle,” they were all close enough in age to have built strong friendships.
And Marcia knew Gabby was one of the smartest women in her acquaintance, possibly even as smart as her own stepmother, renowned inventor Felicity Montrose-Calderbank. Gabby was clever, and educated, and well-informed.
Ifshewas coming up empty-handed in her investigation among Tostinham’s staff, then Hawk had covered his tracks well.
What Marcia needed was some insider information. Someone who could help her figure out where to look next… Especially with Hawk avoiding her.
I cannot write to Bull and tell him I have failed.
Gaze locked on the carpet as she mulled over her possibilities, Marcia turned the corner and almost ran into, or over, a pair of ridiculously shined shoes.
“Oh!” she blurted, jerking her gaze upward to land on the butler’s carefully blank expression. “Forgive me, Artrip! I was…deep in thought.”
His expression didn’t change. “Of course, my lady,” he intoned, stepping around her. His hair, which revealed he’d once been a ginger before starting to gray, was combed over a gleaming bald spot in the middle of his head and held in place with so much pomade it didn’t move as he twisted.
I wonder if he is as stiff and unknowable?
Thinking fast, Marcia blocked his path. “Sometimes I become so entranced I…I lose track of my surroundings!” The butler could be the source she needed, couldn’t he? “Do you ever find that to be the case?”
The older man’s nose wrinkled just once, as much response as she’d ever received from him. “No, my lady.”
Damn.
“Oh, it is common for me.” It really wasn’t.Think think think.“You know, pondering the divine, that sort of thing.”
Since she was clearly inviting a response, Artrip blinked once, slowly. “I shall be obliged to take your word on it, my lady.”
He wasn’t a religious person then? What else? “Or my schedule for the week!” she blurted desperately. “Or the shape of dewdrop on a rose petal!”
