He held here there for a long while. She did not want him to let her go. Eventually, however, she found the presence of mind to slip off his lap, so he would not have to ask her to. She rebuttoned her pelisse.
They stood and he took her hand. “Come with me.”
Down those stairs they went. Past the attic level where the servants lived. She wondered if they came up here at night, to enjoy the cool air in summer or to have assignations. Down again, past the door she had used to get to the stairs. Down one more level. He opened a door.
“These are the family chambers. That one is mine.” He pointed to a door visible from where they stood. “A few steps and here I am. A few more above and there you are.” He closed the door, then took her face in his hands. “I want to visit you tonight. Will you permit it?”
“Yes.” Right now, with the pleasure still echoing in her, she would have agreed to anything.
“At ten o’clock then. Be sure your maid is gone.” He brought her back up the stairs. At the door to her own level, he kissed her deeply, then turned to retrace his steps.
Chapter Fourteen
“A most unfortunate accident.” Mrs. Young kept saying that, whenever Minerva raised the matter of the duke’s death. It proved effective in ending the topic for a spell, until she raised it yet again. Between failed attempts, she chatted about the grounds, the manor building, and other simple topics. It kept her from thinking about tonight.
The sensual stupor had passed over an hour ago, leaving her to question whether she should have encouraged him. Could she do this? Should she? The usual cautions about pregnancy and heartbreak did not occupy her mind. What did was the chance for horrible disappointment, in herself.
Her own failings might be overcome by courage alone. The man she had chosen for this initiation was the bigger question. Even now, sitting at this dinner, she had to force her mind not to dwell on the questionable wisdom of taking such a step with him of all men.
The housekeeper’s quelling look at the other servants sent them back to their dinners. Silence reigned. Minerva was losing her patience. So much for trying to glean information through casual chatting. More directness would be required.
“No one is sure it was an accident. How likely is that? The walkway up there is wide enough, and in good condition. The wall is high enough. The weather was fair. The duke was familiar with that roof walk, and not going to do something stupid that would make him fall.”
Big eyes turned on her, shocked that she pursued the subject.
“We don’t speak of it,” Mrs. Young said sharply.
“Perhaps you should. Eventually there will be those who demand you do. I am sure the new duke would want you to cooperate with them.”
“We were all in bed,” Sarah said.
“Were you all asleep? Did no one hear anything? Your chambers are right below that parapet. Whose are on that side of the building?”
More determined eating. She looked at each of them in turn. One red-faced blond girl finally raised her hand. “Mine is. Joan and I are right there.”
Joan, a dark-haired young woman, barely paused in her meal. “I was asleep, as was you.”
“That’s true, Mrs. Rupert. I was asleep too. I heard nothing until there was all the noise in the morning down there. I looked out and—” Her eyes teared.
“That is enough, Susan.” The housekeeper speared Minerva with a glare. “We do not talk about it. You can see how it upsets the servants. I will thank you to show some respect for the dead and not insist on treating this tragedy as a bit of common gossip.”
Minerva gave up and spooned into her stew.
Meal finished and duties calling, the servants rose to leave. Minerva joined them. While bodies grouped and jostled, a subtle tap touched her arm. Beside her Joan averted her eyes but gestured toward the storeroom.
Both of them lagged behind the others. With Mrs. Young gone and the kitchen empty of all but the cook and her helpers, Joan nipped into the storeroom. Minerva followed and shut the door.
“I wasn’t asleep like I said,” Joan whispered.
“Did you hear something? An argument or altercation?”
“Not that. But maybe I heard something. I may a seen something too.” She licked her lips. “I’ve been walking out with one of the footmen, and sometimes, we go up there when it is dark. To talk.”
Minerva nodded encouragingly.
“Everyone knows the duke was fond of doing so too, so we go much later than he would. Only this night, we were up there—talking—and I thought I heard someone else, around the corner, over my chamber. Like a groan, then steps. I told my friend he should finish what he was, um, saying. So we were going back to the stairs, and when we were about to turn the corner the shadows moved there, like the door opened and closed. We waited a good while before slipping back down ourselves.”
“Do you know the time of this?”
“We agreed to meet up there at midnight, and we had talked for a spell.”
“I expect since you had broken house rules you did not tell the magistrate any of this.”
“Not just that. I can’t swear to it, can I? A sound I barely heard and my friend did not, then what looked like someone maybe going to the stairs. The magistrate kept asking if any of us were up there that night and I was scared if I said I was that he would think—he was talking like he wanted to say one of us had done this. I worried that my friend would be accused and hanged on nothing more than what maybe I heard and saw.”
It was an understandable fear. One Minerva sympathized with. Didn’t she herself worry that she would make a convenient person to accuse if her history were known?
Joan reached for the door latch. “Everyone says it was an accident. None of us think it was, but we all pretend it happened that way. I’m telling you this because you are the first to say maybe it wasn’t. But I can’t swear to any of it. I’ll not repeat this even if you ask me to.”
“You may have to someday, but for now I will not ask you to. I thank you for confiding in me, however.”
Minerva pulled her little watch out of her pocket. Eight o’clock. In two hours she would see Chase and could tell him about this, without naming Joan. Only he wasn’t coming to her chamber to talk about the duke’s death, was he?
A mixture of excitement and foreboding gripped her stomach whenever she allowed herself to think of that assignation. She made her way up to her chamber, with little else on her mind.
* * *
Chase bided his time in the library with Nicholas, but the back of his mind ticked away the minutes. They had ridden out in late afternoon, and hence eaten late. Now they sprawled on divans and drank port.
“I think you are right. I need a better land steward.” Nicholas spoke like a man reviewing thoughts on which his mind dwelled often. “Surely I can find one who will not press me to enclose. Or, if we must, have the imagination to find a way to do that without displacing too many families.”
“Why not speak with Brentworth? His family’s handling of it is often admired by the more generous among us.”
Nicholas accepted that and drank more port. He looked to the ceiling and the invisible beyond. “Did you go up there today?”
“I did.” He would have to tell his cousin eventually. “I am convinced it was not an accident.”