Page 76 of The Duke's Carriage Window
Warren stepped up to the window next to her, his expression full of unexpected tenderness, like that of an elder brother, or what she’d always imagined having an elder brother might feel like.
“And, might I add, you aren’t alone. Perhaps you were once, before you came here. But now? Even if you weren’t marrying Darius, you would always have a home at Devil’s Square with all of us.”
Those words were everything to her. She finally believed she could have the life she’d always dreamed of having, with Darius at her side and in her heart. The thought sent another pang of guilt through her chest, knowing she’d betrayed his trust by keeping silent on her plan.
“If you haven’t learned by now, we protect our own. And you most certainly are one of us.” He gently squeezed her shoulder in that same brotherly way, which melted her heart. “Never doubt it, Meredith.” His smile returned as he winked. “I should be back at dusk.”
Meredith spent the remainder of the afternoon discussing her trousseau with Frances and assisting Mr. Chelsea with wedding arrangements.
“Do you think we should hire a housekeeper for the townhouse?” she asked the butler, wondering if he might take offense at the idea.
“I would quite appreciate that, Ms. Montague,” the butler confessed in a rare show of openness. “Your Grace has Mrs. Ledbetter in the country, but I am on my own here and not getting any younger. After his father died, our previous housekeeper left, as she did not wish to take care of a young bachelor duke, believing that his title and wealth would go to his head as it does many young men. It did not however, as you can see, His Grace is the epitome of good manners and does well with economizing. But we could certainly use a housekeeper’s expertise now that I imagine we will be entertaining with a lovely young duchess in the house.”
She blushed at the butler’s sweet compliment.
“Then I shall ask Darius to hire one. In the meantime, Frances and I can assist you in whatever is required.”
“I would like to have charge of the menu for the wedding breakfast and the dinner reception the night before the ceremony,” Mr. Chelsea replied, and began to describe what he thought would be enticing courses.
Not for the first time, Meredith felt truly accepted by Darius’s staff. When she first arrived, she had only hoped to be tolerated by them, yet they had been as welcoming as Darius’s friends. Mr. Chelsea trusted her and agreed with her decisions, just as any good butler would for the future mistress of his household.
I will make this home even more wonderful for Darius and everyone else, myself included, she thought with pride. She’d had a decent amount of practice helping Uncle Ben’s housekeeper run a household and believed she would do well here.
Warren and Mr. Doyle arrived shortly before seven o’clock. It was time to spring her trap and catch a murderer. Doyle listened patiently as she explained her intentions and, with a nod to Warren, took up position by the heart-shaped hole in the wall. Warren climbed over the garden wall and caught Meredith when she followed him, setting her gently on the ground.
“Where would you like me to hide?” he asked as he searched the gardens for a prospective hiding spot.
“Perhaps inside the shed? I know it’s a ways off, but everything else is too exposed, and you can see through the window without being noticed.”
“Very well. Be careful,” Warren said.
Meredith held her breath, her fingers twisting against each other as she waited to see if Crell would come. She paced in a tight circle, then stopped, stared up at the evening sky, feeling stiff and a little cold as an evening chill settled in the air. Surely it was half past seven o’clock now. The light was fading, and the gardens were now wreathed in purple shadows.
In that seemingly endless span of time alone, doubts began to creep upon her. What if Warren was right? What if Mrs. Crell was alive and living somewhere else to keep their separate discrete?
Darius had abandoned trying to catch Crell, and had gone on with his life. Should she have done the same? What if this was all some fevered dream she’d had after first meeting Minerva Crell in the gardens? What if the fighting she’d overhead and the unhappy marriage she’d witnessed through the windows of the Crell house had been a violent fantasy she’d conjured when peering through those opera glasses and not the truth?
No. The memory of that scream she’d heard was too real to be imagined. The circumstances of Crell’s move away from the city too suspicious. Something terrible had happened to Minerva. She couldn’t let herself be convinced otherwise.
But what if Crell didn’t come? She had no other way to catch him without finding evidence, evidence he had certainly disposed of given that Doyle’s search of the gardens had come up empty.
A soft step on the path jerked Meredith from her inner thoughts. She strained to see the figure that emerged from behind a rhododendron bush at the far end of the garden.
Crell was tall, almost as tall as Darius, but a little more thickly built around the middle. There was a cold cruelty that corrupted his otherwise handsome features into something harsh and off-putting.
He came toward her. “So, you’re the one who sent me that letter? I thought it might be Tiverton.”
“I know what you did to your wife.”
Crell’s brown eyes narrowed. “Do you, now? And just what did I supposedly do?”
“You murdered her. The woman at your country home pretending to be her is your mistress.” Meredith hoped he would say something to confirm this. Doyle needed some concrete bit of proof before he could arrest the man.
“Your letter mentions proof. What proof do you have? I am innocent of any crime.”
Her voice grew stronger. “An innocent man wouldn’t have come here.”
“Oh no? And what if I’m here to clear up a misunderstanding? Perhaps I want to know what it is you plan to reveal so I can defend myself.”
