Gillian sank back into her chair, shaken by the confrontation. Would Nicholas be displeased with her for interfering? She feared she’d handled the whole thing poorly and had made a bad impression on Nicholas’s people. That’s what happened when earls married so far beneath them.
When court finally adjourned for the day, Sir Evan led her from the hall into a solar. Servants bustled in serving her wine and cakes.
Gillian toyed with her little iced cakes, still a bit queasy from her outburst. Sir Evan stood near the door like a sentry while she sat eating. It felt ridiculous.
“Sir Evan? Would you join me?”
He came forward but didn’t sit down. He positioned himself in front of her, hands behind his back. And just stood there, staring blankly at something above and behind her head. His square-jawed face was granite, as if carved from the cliff Kincreag sat upon.
“Prithee, sit with me.” She motioned to the chair opposite her. “Have some wine and cakes.”
“I cannot.”
She considered him, lips compressed thoughtfully. “I order you to.”
He sat.
She smiled, then immediately felt silly and mean-spirited.
“I want to thank you for aiding me out there . . . Iwas lost . . . Iamhopelessly lost. I don’t know how to be a countess. I feel terrible ordering you around.”
His bland stare became interested. “I’m here to serve you, my lady. There’s no need to feel terrible. And you did well out there.”
Gillian sat up straighter, pleased by his praise. “Do you think Lord Kincreag will be angry with me?”
“No.”
A great weight lifted from Gillian’s chest until he added, “This time. In the future, ruling when he’s absent could put him in a very difficult situation. Have a care.”
“But I didn’t rule.”
“That was for the best, but I thought for a moment that you meant to.”
He was right. She might be a countess, but that gave her no authority in Kincreag’s courts. A flush stole into her cheeks as she nodded vigorously, wanting him to see she understood and took his advice seriously.
“Have you any more advice for me? Anything else a countess should know?”
“Lord Kincreag could give you better counsel than I, my lady.”
“Of course.” She ate a cake. Sipped some wine.
The silence between them drew out. He sat stone-faced across from her, not drinking or eating or looking at her. She peered closer to be sure he was breathing. What a bore. Maybe she should command him to sing for her. And dance a jig.
“There is something else I’d like to ask you.”
His empty gaze fixed on her. “My lady?”
“Did you know my maid, Aileen?”
“The suicide?”
Gillian leaned forward. “Are you certain it was a suicide?”
“Aye, I am.”
“Why? What is the evidence?”
He paused, his brows lowering, then said, “The poison was in her possession.”
