Page 51 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
“Are you Mrs. Milton Palmer?” he asked coldly, not stopping to wait for her.
Struck by his coldness, she froze with horror as she realized he’d said her father’s name. She followed him. “You opened them? You had no right to open those crates!”
“Probably not. But you can’t keep them in a doorless cottage, and I thought I’d be helpful, more fool me.” He carried the heavy crate through the lobby to the newly repaired stairs.
“Put those books down right now,” she ordered, surprisingeven herself. “You are not a mule and you will make your arm worse.”
She probably ought to kick him, but he’d been too good to her, and she’d lied to him in return. He had every right to be miffed.
So did she. Faith might have cringed, but the new Verity was allowed to be angry at having her privacy intruded upon. She put her hands on her broad hips in her lovely new gown and glared at him.
He set the crate on the sturdy guest counter and glared back. “Where do you want them, then? The manor, Mrs. Palmer?”
“I amnotMrs. Palmer. And the books need to be where children can read them. And me. Books are meant to be read. And if I can’t have them in the cottage...” She stopped and gave it some thought. “Why can’t I have them in the cottage? You caught the thief. It only needs a door.”
“Because there are no beds and no furniture and it is not safe. I’m moving into the inn. I’ve hired a few people to sew and stuff new mattresses for a few of the guest rooms. Upton is repairing bed frames. If the heirs want to sell the cottage, I don’t want to waste time and coin on it.”
He acted so cold... Her newly revived spirits dropped.
What he said made sense. She simply didn’t want to give up dreams of her own home.
She sat down on one of the benches that hadn’t been returned to the church yet and, fighting tears, studied her scorched boots. She was so very tired of being alone. To have still another home ripped from under her... She didn’t have the strength to do it again. “Don’t empty the crates,” she said miserably. “I’ll ask Captain Huntley if there is another cottage I might use.”
No place would be as lovely as Miss Edgerton’s, but then, she supposed it wasn’t lovely any more. Why had that rotten little man ruined everything?
“I’d let you and Mrs. Underhill stay at the inn until you get sorted, but I like to know who my guests are.” He left the books but started for the stairs again.
“I’m dead, remember?” she called, wiping away tears as her anger returned.
“Mrs. Palmer is dead?” he shouted derisively from the next floor.
Obstinate idiot of a man. Who did he think she was, anyway? Well, she’d rather like to know that too. She didn’tfeellike meek Faith Palmer any longer. She was too angry. “Yes,” she shouted, pushing up from the bench with her cane. “And so is her husband. I didnotsteal those books.”
Well, that might be a lie, but it wasn’t as if her uncle noticed their absence. Her idea of the law was a little loose.
Rafe returned to the stairs and glowered down at her. “Did you just shout at me?”
Taken aback, she froze as the familiar timidity raised its ugly head. Then she remembered this was Rafe, not her uncle, and he could not throw her out of a home she did not have. She shouted back, “You shouted first! I can shout if I want to.”
“Ladies don’t shout! Or was that all pretense too? Don’t tell me you were their maid and the Palmers left their library to you.” He wasn’t shouting any more, just glaring.
She blinked in surprise. She had no idea if ladies shouted and didn’t care. But amaid? “Why would I say any such rubbish?”
He waited.
She wanted a home. She didn’t want to leave Gravesyde. If she wasn’t sneaky, invisible Faith anymore, then who did she want to be? Someone who got angry and shouted? That wasn’t working so well. She could stomp her foot or beat the big oaf with her cane, but Verity Porter wasn’t stupid. Verity Porter could buy lovely straw hats and find her own way... with help.
Could she also be someone who trusted those who helped them? Which meant no more lying and sneaking. Which also meant she had to tell the truth, all of it.
Terrified, she clutched her elbows for strength. “If I tell you, I’m endangering your life as well as my own.”
That was a trifle dramatic. Her uncle had no reason to kill her,just throw her in gaol. That might killherbut wouldn’t hurt Rafe. So, it took time to undo a lying habit.
“All the more reason to tell me,” he declared. “At least then I’ll know who or what to look out for.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, you won’t. Faith Palmer isdead. Verity Porter does not exist except asme, standing right in front of you. How do you protect a ghost?”
There, she’d given him her name, for what little it was worth.Faithhad been a ghost for years.
