Page 37 of The Trouble With Titles
He shot a questioning look to Madeline, who made as if she did not see it, fidgeting with her skirts. It was not a sophisticated plan, but neither she nor Molly had a knack for lying, so it was the best they could do on such short notice.
“Could I have a word in private, Simon?”
Simon peered back and forth between them with a perplexed expression. “Do you mean without Miss Bigsby present?”
“Yes, if we could speak about a disrelated topic. I do not want to bother Miss Bigsby with … household matters.”
He stood frozen in bewilderment, clearly at a loss about what a strange interaction he was caught in and not sure what Molly was asking him to do. “Yes, that is acceptable.”
“In the library.”
“Uh … yes.” Simon gave a short bow of respect to Madeline, following his cousin from the room and pausing to close the study door behind them. Left to herself in the room, she rose and rushed over to the other side of the desk. She needed to search for the letter with lightning speed, so she dropped to her knees to start with checking the floor. Sometimes pages from her desk at work would vex her by falling into tight crevices or flittering away with annoying speed to land under a piece of furniture. Bringing her cheek down against the flooring, she peered under the shelving but saw no pages there, although she could confirmthe servants cleaned thoroughly by the lack of accumulated dust. She stood back up to search a pile of correspondence on the desk but found nothing but letters from the various Blackwood estates.
Her gut tightened with suspense, knowing that Molly would keep Simon from the room for a few minutes at most. The hope was that they would find the blackmail letter from Trafford to disprove that someone in the house had taken it from his things, but so far …
Madeline sucked in a rush of air for courage and began to open Simon’s drawers. The first held quill, nibs, extra inkstands, sealing wax along with a seal, and blank pages. Shutting it, she reached for the second drawer. This one held correspondence, which she leafed through but noted nothing but neatly organized notes from the stewards at the respective estates. She fanned the pages, which were tied together with string, but no loose pages fell from the stacks.
Realizing she was running out of time, Madeline shoved the drawer shut and tried another. This one was mostly empty with only a leather journal, which she opened to fan the pages again, careful not to read any of the sentences inked upon them because she did not wish to violate his privacy.
The other drawers were similar. Madeline straightened up and spun around to face the shelving behind the desk. Hastily grabbing the account books one at a time, she fanned those too, but no letter had been accidentally caught amongst their pages. Checking about her, but out of ideas, she raced back to take up her seat before Molly and Simon returned.
Attempting to calm herself, the disappointment was cloying at her stomach. She had so hoped to find it, the first step to confirming that the Scott family was innocent of any wrongdoing.
She supposed it was possible that Simon had already attempted to find the letter—he kept a neat work space—and it would be much simpler to ask him if he had done so. But he had been disturbed at the idea of suspecting one of his relations, and if Madeline raised the issue of the letter, it would lead back into a discussion about the murder. She was not sure she could hold her tongue when she was so anxious for his freedom and his safety, so this was the best she could do at such short notice. Perhaps Molly would find something this evening while the family was at dinner.
Simon stood in the library,struggling to articulate his thoughts to the young woman who had been living with them these past months. He wished his step-cousin to feel at home in … her new residence—Simon scoffed at his inability to order his reasoning—but it was a grievous breach of etiquette to have an unmarried young lady attend dinner, especially given the marked differences in their stations.
“Molly, you and I both appreciate Miss Bigsby, but …” Simon rubbed his beard, hoping that the second time he opened his mouth, eloquent words would pour out. “You do understand … it is unusual?”
This was true. Madeline had never dined in the Scott household, despite their close connection. He would hate to inflict his family’s aristocratic disdain on the lady he had admired so ardently.
“As long as she has a chaperone, it should be acceptable. If anyone witnesses her arrival, there is nothing untoward to infer because both I and your mother are in residence, so she could be invited to dinner by one of us.”
Deuce it! What on earth was Molly thinking? She had shown a nuanced understanding of what wasde rigueurin polite society up until now.
“That … is true.”
“So it is acceptable? As long as she has a chaperone?”
It was not, but Molly had lost her mother this year, and they were family. If not by blood, at least by marriage. He did not wish to embarrass her when she had made so few requests for herself since joining their household.
“I … suppose that is acceptable, but I think it would be wise to inform my mother. She may not approve, so it is best to give her warning to avoid any display of displeasure.” Simon paused, tilting his head as he reflected on the woman in question. Isla Scott would hardly make a display. He continued, choosing his words with care. “I mean,voiceher displeasure. Both Lord and Lady Blackwood might have remarks about … Miss Bigsby’s … rank within their cloistered world if they are not given sufficient time to prepare for such an event.”
Molly pursed her lips, appearing to think about his suggestion. “Hmm … it might be an awkward dinner.”
“Just so.” He did not wish to subject Madeline to the more temperamental behavior his family was capable of. They were all rather on edge about the strangers who would arrive from Italy, so the probability of them saying something rude was vastly increased.
“Can you inform them of the dinner arrangements?”
“I would rather not.” It came out instantly, as a reaction. Simon had a lot on his mind, and coaxing his brother and Isla into behaving themselves, or attempting to answer their inevitable questions about why Madeline was coming to dinner would be subdued if Molly was the one to present it. They were still mostly on their best behavior because none of them knewher all that well, while with Simon, their full displeasure would be expressed.
“I would appreciate it. You see, I cannot be at dinner this evening.”
What the living hell?
Simon almost cursed out loud. Up until now, Molly had appeared pragmatic, a trait that Simon had appreciated when compared to the characters living under this roof. It was clearly a facade. She was as eccentric as any member of the Scott household!
“I am sorry. You are saying you invited Madel—Miss Bigsby to dinner, but you shall not be attending?”
