The grounds were gorgeous, well-kept and pristinely ordered. She’d expected nothing less of the duke’s estate. From the edge of its orchards on the farthest side, the hill sloped downward toward a peaceful-looking valley. In the distance, atop a pleasant purple field of heather, there was a comfortable-looking estate, not terribly large but perfectly situated, with attractive grounds and a river snaking along one side.
“Who are our neighbors in the valley?” she asked.
“Why, that’s the duke’s brother Rupert, it is!” they responded, in almost perfect unison. “But we never see him, there’s no love lost between the two,” Cloris added. The women shot stern looks at each other, a tacit agreement to speak no further hanging in the air.
“How terrible. What was their falling out regarding?”
“They have their reasons and are right stubborn about reinforcing them, as men always are! But it’s none of our affair, really.”
“He’sour affair!”
“Yes, buthisaffairs arehis own.” They nodded wisely on either side of Ana.
“Does the duke ever host visitors here?”
“Never,” Cloris replied. “Not even his closest friends from London. That’s why you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw you emerge from that carriage. A sweet young thinglike you. He’d sworn never to marry until he absolutely had to. Swore it up and down. And now here you are. You’ll bring life to this gloomy old castle. Life and love and...”
The two sisters glanced at each other.
“Babies,” Agnes finished her sister’s sentence.
“Yes, adorable sweet fat cooing babies,” Cloris enthused. “We want babies to cuddle and babies to sing to, and babies to rock in the cradle.”
“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Agnes warned.
“When the duke was a little lad, he had such a ready laugh. Now he rarely even smiles. That’s why we’re so happy that you’re here. Just look at you. You can’t go ten minutes without smiling. You’re determined to be joyful and that’s just what he needs.”
“He’ll probably leave me here and return to London,” Ana said. “Do you know what he does there? I was unable to ascertain his whereabouts most of the time. I did visit his club, however, and observed him bareknuckle boxing.”
“Then you know as much as we do, dearie,” said Cloris. “He boxes, he trains horses, repairs and builds carriages, that sort of thing.”
Ana considered these manly pursuits. A dead end. She thought of another dead end she’d encountered in unraveling the mystery of the duke. “Does the duke know anyone named Janet? Or Laurel? Or Kitty? Have you ever heard him mention anyone by those names?”
“Can’t say as we have, Your Grace,” Cloris said. Agnes clucked in agreement.
So much for the list of names. Who the devil were these women? Ana had thought about them enough to give them personalities,like characters in one of her books. Kitty was a coquette, Laurel was a busybody. Janet was the worst, a real hard-headed tyrant, ordering an uncharacteristically docile Dex about the bedchamber.
She had to get a handle on her imagination. Thinking about Dex in another woman’s bed, giving her those whispered commands, made her stomach lurch. He’d explicitly told her to forget about the list of names, warning that it held no meaning that concerned her.
After a stretch of silence, the maids stopped alongside her and bobbed curtsies. “We must be running along, Your Grace, with your permission,” said Agnes.
“We’re delivering baskets of food and sundries to the widow Miller, in Darbyton, to the east,” continued Cloris, picking up the thread. “She’s feeling poorly again, and the duke says we are to look after her.”
Another good deed. Add it to the pile of mysteries. “He must have a fondness for her. What is the connection?”
“His Grace doesn’t say and we haven’t asked. He just says run along and tend to her whenever she’s ailing. She gets the nervous headaches, she does. Hasn’t been the same since she lost her husband in the war. Almost lost her house, too, until she came into some money unexpectedly.”
“Ah!” cried Agnes. “I just thought of something, Cloris, we are silly old things. We do know a Kitty, indeed we do. I’m a fool not to think of it sooner.”
Ana felt her legs go numb, rooted to the ground. “Who is she?”
“Why, it must be the widow Miller. Katherine’s her Christian name, but she was Kitty to her husband, sure enough, I heard her say it, and must be so to the duke as well. How droll! You askabout a Kitty and we are off to see the very one. Would you like us to pass along a message?”
Ana thought quickly. She was dying to know more about the woman. But what could she say that didn’t sound dreadfully awkward and upsetting?Are you or have you ever been my husband’s mistress? Why is he lavishing baskets of food on you?By all accounts, the woman was unwell and pining for a departed spouse. She would think about it and revisit the subject later, Ana decided, perhaps pay the widow a visit on her own. “No, that’s fine. Goodbye! Have a pleasant journey.”
“Goodbye. Mind you don’t get lost in the hedge maze!” And they took their leave, sensible black cloaks flapping in the breeze.
Ana continued along, lost in thought. She reached the hedge maze, with its neat springy green walls, and entered, taking turns at random. Kitty Miller. The same sensation of being elbowed in the ribs by a distant memory she’d felt earlier in the day nagged at her again. Miller. There had been a Miller in her father’s company! In Dex’s company. She’d written him a letter, addressed somewhere... she couldn’t remember, would have to check. Was it Darbyton? Could it have been? Kitty Miller. Widowed in the war. It must be.