Page 126 of The Marriage Method

Miles didn’t fail to catch the distinction. They were their cats now, not his alone. Indeed, he wasn’t alone anymore at all. Gathering Nell close, he kissed her softly, deeply, telling her again that he loved her. That he was mad for her. That he was never going to let her go.

Tomorrow, when he returned from shooting, they would tour the portrait gallery, and the next day they would contrive to visit Bricket Lodge. The sooner they did, the sooner they could discover whatever it was Cowgill had learned there. And then they could return home and start the rest of their lives together.

All that remained was to get through the next two days without getting themselves killed.

32

Nell descended the circular stairs, a shawl around her shoulders and her tapestry workbag in hand. The cold light of morning filtered through the high windows in the entry hall. It was half past ten. Miles had gone shooting with the other gentlemen. She hadn’t witnessed him leave. He’d departed their bed when she was still sleeping. A deep, boneless slumber. Indeed, she couldn’t recall when she’d ever slept so peacefully.

It wasn’t entirely owing to pleasure. It was because she hadn’t been alone. Miles had remained with her through the night—a great, warm presence in her bed. She’d let her guard down with him. Had trusted him to take care of her. To watch over her. And he had.

But of course he had. He loved her.

He loved her.

The knowledge of it had not only lifted Nell’s spirits, it had lightened the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. A weight she had carried from a very young age. The Academy had taught her vigilance, but last night she’d set that vigilance aside. She had been safe with him. It was that which had enabled her to sleep so deeply.

She’d awakened several hours later when a housemaid had brought in her breakfast tray. Married ladies were granted the privilege of taking their morning meal in bed. And since all four ladies at the party were of the married variety, it was trays all around.

As she advanced into the hall, Nell couldn’t be sure that the others weren’t still in their rooms. Since emerging from her own chamber, she’d seen no one but servants about. It gave her the perfect excuse to explore a little.

She’d start with the library. Lord Amstead may well keep a desk there that she could search. And if it should be locked—well. That’s what the butterfly hairpins securing her chignon were for.

According to the architectural plans, the library was located in the east wing of the house. Nell was just crossing the hall toward it when Innes stepped into her path.

She came to a startled halt.

“Good morning, Mrs. Quincey,” he said. “If I may be of assistance?”

Nell swiftly took his measure. Except for the dignity with which he held himself, he was unremarkable in appearance. His suit was a dull black, his long face absent any obvious sign of malice. Yet he was a big man—taller than her, and physically stronger, presumably, despite his thickening middle. A man who might very well be capable of violence.

“I was on my way to his lordship’s library,” Nell answered. “It’s this way, isn’t it?”

“You might prefer the morning room,” Innes said. “A fire has been lit and there are writing implements available. If madam would permit me to show her there?”

Nell privately cursed her luck. If the morning room was where he wanted her, there could be nothing of interest there. She was tempted to tell him no. That she’d prefer the library. As for an escort, given her knowledge of the house plans, one was wholly unnecessary.

But it was early yet in her stay to be making trouble. For now, she would do better to play the biddable guest.

“That would be kind of you,” she said.

Innes gestured toward the east wing. “This way, if you please.”

Nell followed alongside him down the corridor. As they walked, she discreetly examined his profile. A frown knit her brow. Perhaps it was only her imagination, spurred on by the fact that Mr. Cowgill had mentioned Innes by name in his notebook, but…

A strange suspicion began to take hold of her. The vague idea that she’d seen him before. Either that, or someone very like him. To be sure, there was something oddly familiar in his face. Nell couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Is it true that you were formerly Lord Amstead’s valet?” she asked.

Innes’s mouth flattened. “That is correct, ma’am.”

“I congratulate you on your promotion. There aren’t many servants who could make such a leap. Not in a great country house such as this. A vast knowledge must be necessary to keep things running smoothly.”

Innes replied with cold formality. “I am honored by his lordship’s faith in me.” He motioned to an arched doorway. “The morning room, madam.”

Nell preceded him inside the prettily furnished room. It wasn’t empty. A lone figure in a green taffeta day dress sat in one of the tufted chairs by the cherrywood fireplace, her fair head bowed over a white square of embroidery.

It was Lady Belwood.