Nearly a Lady Read Online Free Page A

she?”
    “Someone obviously did,” he replied after a moment’s consideration. “It could just as easily have been Mr. Lartwick, or someone they had in their pocket. There’s no telling, really, until we find Lady Engsly.”
    Winnefred nodded in a way that mirrored her friend’s before moving toward the door. “I need to help Lilly.”
    “A moment, Winnefred. Do you mind if I call you Winnefred?”
    “I—”
    “Excellent.” He cut her off for the simple pleasure of watching those golden eyes flash a little in temper. “Why is it you’ve made your home in the gardener’s cottage rather than the house? It’s lovely, mind you, but cramped for two people.”
    He was being truthful on both accounts. The stone walls of the building were freshly washed and the rough plank floors scrubbed clean. Cheerful, if inelegant, curtains dressed the four small windows, and the bed—which he currently occupied—was covered with a spread expertly embroidered in shades of blue and green. Shelves along the far wall displayed dishes, cooking utensils, medicinal supplies, and an array of knickknacks women everywhere—to the bafflement of men everywhere—felt compelled to collect and showcase: small figurines of bisque, dainty boxes of hand-painted wood, and an ornate teacup too delicate to be of practical use.
    But the one-room cottage hadn’t been designed to house two young women; it had been built for a single man. There was scarce enough room to maneuver around the furniture, sparse even as it was.
    Winnefred tilted her head and watched his face as she answered. “We found the cottage easier to maintain on a limited budget.”
    The Murdoch House was hardly a vast manor, Gideon thought with a frown. It boasted no more than four bedrooms, two servants’ quarters, a single parlor, dining room, and kitchen. Her funds were limited, no doubt, but adequate to keep the house open.
    “Perhaps I’d have been able to keep us out of this cottage,” she continued, “if I were a man and therefore capable of grasping the value of a coin well spent and a coin well saved.”
    He blinked at that, then laughed. “What a singularly bizarre thing to say. And I don’t think you believe a word of it.”
    She didn’t immediately answer, just continued to search his face. For what, Gideon couldn’t guess, but it was disconcerting, the way those gold eyes stared without blinking. After a moment, she turned and walked to the shelves. She pulled down one of the painted boxes, took out what appeared to be an opened letter, and returned to stand in front of him once more. Her chin came up, her mouth opened . . . then closed again.
    She balled the letter into her fist. “If this is a jest,” she finally said, “it is a cruel one. And I’ll see you pay for hurting Lilly.”
    Before he had a chance to respond, she marched toward the door and left.
    What an odd creature, he thought, and not at all what he’d been expecting. He’d envisioned a retiring young woman—shy and mousy—perhaps living with an elderly couple hired from the village to see to her needs. He’d imagined soft voices, quiet manners, and an air of genteel poverty.
    Well, he’d certainly gotten the poverty bit right. They were living in the gardener’s cottage and wearing threadbare gowns a decade out of fashion. What the devil had they been doing with forty pounds a year?
    A simple enough thing to find out. Resolved not to spend what was left of the morning lying about and wondering over questions he could easily have answered, Gideon hauled himself out of bed. He was forced to lean against the headboard when his battered system protested the sudden movement, but his body had taken worse beatings, and it wasn’t long before he managed to right himself again. Then he set out to look for his cane.

Chapter 3

    M ad as a hatter.”
    Winnefred made the comment to no one in particular. Upon leaving the cottage, she decided on taking the long way to the house. The very long