and she tried to keep her face blank. She had never been particularly good at hiding her feelings although she suspected she was getting better at it lately. She had certainly managed to deceive Nat as to how she felt about him. But she wished she could stop thinking about him. That would be a step forward.
“I believe that Nat was there at Lady Willoughby’s invitation,” she said. She stumbled a little over Nat’s name, which was odd. She could not call him Lord Waterhouse, of course, for they had been friends for years and everyone would think it odd. But nor could she apparently talk of him with the same casual carelessness she had always used. She felt very self-conscious, all the more so as Lydia’s steady gaze was on her and was making Lizzie feel horribly vulnerable.
“Lady Willoughby is Lady Wheeler’s cousin and I understand she is also an old flame of Nat’s,” she added hurriedly.
“I wonder then if Lady Willoughby had anything to do with Flora jilting Lord Waterhouse?” Lydia said. “Perhaps if he met her again before the wedding and they rekindled their romance-” she broke off. “That would not be like Lord Waterhouse, though. He is far too honorable to trifle with a lady’s feelings like that.” She turned her inquiring gaze back to Lizzie. “Has he confided in you, Lizzie? We are all quite puzzled as to why the wedding was called off.”
“He has said nothing to me,” Lizzie said. She stared hard into the depths of her lemonade glass. “I have no notion.”
“He won’t tell Miles or Dexter, either,” Alice said. “It is very odd.”
“Perhaps,” Laura said, “it is Flora who has another beau. I hear she has been walking up near High Top Farm lately, Alice.”
Alice laughed. “I have heard that, too. There is not a secret to be kept in this village! Lowell will not talk to me about it, though.” She turned to Lydia. “You do not mind, Lydia? I thought at one time that you and Lowell might make a match of it.”
Lydia laughed. “You must know that I will not make a match of it with anyone, Alice! Lowell is a dear friend to me and I value him enormously, but there is nothing more to it, I assure you.”
“Well, if Flora is the jilt here at least Lord Waterhouse is not lacking consolation,” Alice said, with a sideways glance at Lizzie. “What is Lady Willoughby like, Lizzie?”
“She is rich, widowed, spiteful and
Laura sighed. “I asked Mr. Churchward, my lawyer, to look into this months ago, but he tells me that unfortunately Sir Montague is within his rights. These taxes existed in Fortune’s Folly in medieval times and they were never repealed. The only way we could get them annulled is to go to parliament and that would take years.”
“He will pocket a cool seventy-five thousand pounds if neither Flora nor Mary nor I marry before the time is up,” Lizzie said. “That is bad enough, but it is the other taxes that are more burdensome where people have so little to start with. Mrs. Broad now has to pay a tax on her three chickens or see them in the cooking pot. Monty has already eaten her sheep! She has little income and can barely survive. When I see cases like hers it makes my blood boil!”
“I agree,” Alice said. “We must find a medieval law that frees us from the tyranny of Sir Montague! Either that or murder him!”
“I would do it myself, but it would not do any good,” Lizzie said, “for Tom would inherit both the baronetcy and the right to inflict his will on us and he is even worse than Monty. I would rather marry ten times over than give half my fortune to Tom!”
They were still laughing when there was the sudden sound of masculine voices and the quick rap of footsteps on the terrace and then Dexter Anstruther, Miles Vickery and Nat Waterhouse came around the side of the house and up the steps to join them. Lizzie’s breath caught and her heart did a ridiculous somersault. She realized that Lydia had noticed her reaction, and she looked away hastily, affecting indifference. Except that it was impossible to be indifferent to Nat. He looked so virile and alive, and in his casual sporting attire so dark and handsome. The jacket accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and his trousers clung to his muscular thighs. Lizzie found she was staring-staring at Nat Waterhouse whom she had seen a thousand times before. Her heart somersaulted again and she tried and failed to calm her fluttering pulse.
Nat’s gaze sought her out at once. Lizzie could feel him watching her with that long, intense scrutiny that was so disconcerting. She tried very hard to avoid his gaze but the harder she tried the more she found herself drawn back to him.
“Every chaperone’s nightmare,” Lydia was saying mischievously. “Aren’t they handsome, Lizzie, and almost too overwhelming to be allowed out together? Though it is touching to see how devoted Miles and Dexter are to their wives.” Lizzie caught the undertone of wistfulness in her voice and for a moment she was distracted from her own feelings. Her heart bled for Lydia, for Tom had never been devoted to anything other than money and his own pleasure and now it was Lydia who was paying the price for that.
“Dexter!” Laura was smiling as she beckoned to the footman to fetch some more chairs. “How charming that you could all join us. Will you take tea-” Her voice dwindled away and in the same instant Lizzie became aware of the curious tension surrounding the men. Alice caught Miles’s hand and gave him a questioning look, but Miles shook his head and turned toward Nat. As Nat started to move toward Lizzie she had the terrible conviction that something dreadful had happened. A feeling that was icy-cold and hard formed in her heart. Nat dropped to his haunches beside her and took her hand in his. Lizzie could feel the tension coiled within his powerful frame.
“What is it?” she said, her voice coming out as a whisper from between dry lips.
“It’s Sir Montague,” Nat said. His tone was very steady and there was tenderness in his eyes and gentleness in his voice that made Lizzie’s heart falter. “Lizzie, I am very sorry. He was found murdered this morning. He had been stabbed to death.”
There was absolute silence for a moment and then Alice gave a gasp and clapped her hand to her mouth. “We were talking of murdering him just now,” she said, “but only in jest!”
Lizzie shook her head. It felt muzzy, as though she was still suffering the effects of too much wine. “Monty dead? Murdered? But who-” She stopped, for even in her shock and horror she could see that it was more a question of who did
Alice came across to her in a rustle of silk and put her arms about her. “Lizzie,” she said, “I am so sorry. I know he was a difficult man-”
“He was loathsome and unpleasant and greedy and rude,” Lizzie said, her voice a little choked, “but I do not have many relatives and I did not wish to lose him.” Her eyes felt hot and hard with unshed tears. “Damn Monty for getting himself murdered like this!” she said unsteadily. “I would kill him for it if it were not already too late.”
Laura pressed a cup of tea into her hands and she gulped it down, feeling the hot strength of it steady her a little. Both her brothers were despicable men, she thought despairingly, but they were all that she had. She might have wanted them to be different, but she had not wanted to be without them. She had lost too much of her family ever to desire it.
“When did it happen?” she asked, looking up at Nat. His dark eyes looked tired, she thought. The lines she had noticed on his face the previous night seemed deeper still, grim and harsh.
“We do not know for sure yet,” he said. “Sometime in the night, we think.”
“But you will be investigating?” Laura looked at her husband. “Or is it a case for the constable?”
“We’re taking it on,” Dexter said. He looked at Lizzie. “The Home Secretary has been taking an interest in what has been happening in Fortune’s Folly and-” he paused “-forgive me, Lady Elizabeth, but we had already had reason to warn Sir Montague that he might be in danger. A great many people have taken against him as a result of the punitive taxes he has been inflicting.”
“He had received letters,” Miles put in. “Death threats.” His hazel eyes were grave. “Were you aware of this, Lady Elizabeth?”
