He looked down at me. “Well, I suppose you can say I have local ties. My mother was born in Devon. Lady Hawse-Gorzley’s my aunt.”
“Yes, but you are not known to the killer, are you? If it is one person, he must have a reason for choosing these particular people. It must be some kind of vendetta.”
“Do you believe he was here tonight? In the ballroom?”
I stared ahead as we reached the top of the staircase and the long corridors stretched away from us into darkness. “There was that man in the gorilla suit. Nobody knew who he was and we didn’t see him toward the end of the evening.”
Darcy frowned. “If he’s as clever as he appears to be, then I think you should not interfere. I don’t want some ‘accident’ happening to you.”
I rested my head on his shoulder as we walked down the hall. We reached my bedroom. “Good night.” I turned to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Is that it?” he asked. His hands grasped my shoulders and he pulled me toward him, his lips coming to meet mine in a demanding kiss. I felt myself responding to him, my body melting against his as his arms slid around me, crushing me to him. When we broke apart breathlessly, I remembered where we were.
“I don’t suppose we should be doing this in the corridor,” I whispered. “Someone might come.”
He looked down at me. “Then let’s continue somewhere more private.” He opened the door to my room. “Oh, good, your maid has conveniently gone to bed.” His eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at me and went to usher me inside my room. I hesitated, suddenly unsure. What was wrong with me? I asked myself. This was Darcy, the man of my dreams. Wasn’t this exactly what I wanted? And hadn’t I begged him to stay a few nights ago? Then without warning I burst into tears—as much of a shock to me as it was to him.
“That’s what she did and look what happened to her,” I blurted out.
He closed the door hastily behind us, then his arms came around me. “Wait a minute. Who did what?”
“Mrs. Sechrest. I saw her creeping down the hall to someone else’s bedroom, and now she’s probably dead.”
“You think the killer is striking down sinners?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I was still blubbering.
He was trying not to smile as he stroked my black gypsy hair back from my face. “You are adorable sometimes,” he said. “I’m sure that tonight’s horrible tragedy upset you. It upset all of us. But you’re not in the same boat as Mrs. Sechrest, are you? She is married to someone else. And you and I care about each other, don’t we?”
“I know,” I said and sank down onto my bed, my face in my hands. “It’s just that . . . it’s all been too horrible. So many horrible things happening. I don’t feel safe.”
He stood looking down at me tenderly and then he said, “It’s all right. I probably need a good night’s sleep if I’m to compete in that ridiculous race in the morning.” He bent to kiss me gently on the forehead. “Sleep well. And Georgie—I don’t think I’ve actually said this before, but I’m saying it now. I love you.”
I looked up at him. “I love you too,” I said. He was about to walk away when I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go,” I whispered and pulled him down to the bed beside me.
He sat looking at me for a moment, then he removed my gypsy wig and ran his fingers lightly through my own hair. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you, my little gypsy lass.” Then he started to undo the buttons on my lacy white blouse. Improbably, I found myself wondering if Queenie had fallen asleep or, heaven forbid, she was attempting to undress one of the other ladies. I didn’t hear any screams, so I had to conclude it was the former. Darcy slid the blouse from my shoulders then drew a finger gently down my front, tracing lightly the curve of my breast. I felt a strong surge of desire that wiped all thoughts of Queenie or anyone else from my mind. I wanted him. I wanted him badly.
His hands had just moved around to the catch of my brassiere when the door opened suddenly, sending a stream of light into the room and making us both look up, blinking.
“I came to undress you, my lady,” Queenie said stiffly, “but I see that the gentleman is already helping you.”
Darcy got to his feet. “Lady Georgiana was distressed by tonight’s tragedy,” he said. “She needed comforting.”
“Comforting, is that what you call it, sir?” She looked at me. “Should I go away again, then?”
Darcy looked down at me and smiled. “No, it’s all right, Queenie. You can take care of your mistress. She’s had a long day.”
He blew me a kiss and he was gone.
“Sorry about that, miss,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt nothing.”
“Mr. O’Mara only escorted me to my room because I was upset,” I said primly.
“Go on,” she said, giving me a nudge. “You were going to have a bit of the old ‘how’s-yer-father,’ weren’t you?”
“Queenie,” I said severely. “That is not how a lady’s maid talks to her employer. You may go. I’ll finish undressing myself.”
“I didn’t mean no harm, miss,” she said.
“I’m tired,” I said. “Just go.”
She closed the door and I sat in the darkness, not moving. All the unsettling events of the day flashed through my mind, followed by one overwhelming fact: Darcy loved me. A smile came over my face until I let the worry surface from the depths of my consciousness. He loved me. I loved him. But we couldn’t ever marry.
Chapter 32
GORZLEY HALL
DECEMBER 29
Day of the Lovey Chase but beastly weather. I hope nothing will go wrong. I wish Darcy wasn’t taking part in it.
I was awakened by Queenie with a tea tray.
“Morning, my lady,” she said. “Bloody awful day. Fog so thick it reminds me of back home in London. I don’t half wish we was there now.”
I looked out the window, where only the first trees in the orchard were visible and Lovey Tor didn’t exist.
“Oh, crikey,” I said. “I wonder if they’ll be able to run the Lovey Chase in this weather.”
Queenie put down the tray on the bedside table. “I’m sorry I barged in on you last night,” she said. “I should have scarpered off and left you to it. He’s a bit of all right, ain’t he? The cat’s whisker, I’d say.” And she gave me a wink.
“Queenie, I doubt that any other lady’s maid in the world would speak to her mistress the way you do.”
“Like what, miss?” she asked. “I was only having a nice little chat with you. Friendly, like.”
I was about to say that we were not friends, she was my servant. But I couldn’t do it. I got out of bed and sighed. I had to accept that she would never learn, that she would never be employable elsewhere and that I was stuck with her.
“It’s going to be freezing watching that race,” I said. “You’d better put out my warmest jumper and my tartan trousers. This is one of the occasions when I wish I owned a fur coat.”
“You could always borrow mine, miss,” she said.
I tried to keep a straight face. Queenie’s ancient fur coat was mangy and spiky and made her look like an aged hedgehog. “Awfully good of you, Queenie, but I think not,” I said.
I was in the midst of getting dressed when a bell rang in the hallway outside my door. “One hour to the start of the chase,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley’s powerful voice called. “Everyone needs a hearty breakfast today so get a move on.”
I finished dressing and went downstairs; I met Darcy going into the breakfast room.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, a challenging smile in his eyes.
“I did, thank you.” I noticed he was dressed in thick corduroy trousers and a big fisherman’s jersey. “You’re not going to run the race in those clothes, are you?”
“I have my racing gear on underneath,” he said. “And I will not reveal it until I really have to. Frankly, I’d like
