Page 43 of A Duchess of Mystery

Dora shook her head. “I’ve tried, oh, I’ve tried, Bella darling. But every time I close my eyes I see him lying on the library floor with… with his eyes just staring up at the ceiling as though he’s so surprised at what’s just happened to him.”

Isabella tightened her hold. “I should jolly well think he was surprised. But you mustn’t think of it. I’ve told you not to. You can’t let him blight your life when he’s dead, as he did when he was alive.” She gritted her teeth and scowled her hardest. “He deserved to die, Dora. He did. There can be no buts about it. And I for one refuse to mourn him or feel in the least bit guilty.” She gave a shiver. “He would have killed me if he could. I know he would have.”

Dora shook her head. “It’s all right for you. You’re so much stronger than I am.” She sniffed again. “And you weren’t with me last night when that ghastly Lady Dangerfield tried talking to me. It was awful. I didn’t know what to do. She cornered me, and no one was about to save me. I looked for you, but you weren’t there.”

Isabella’s hackles rose. “Lady Dangerfield? What did she want?” Thoughts of what she herself would like to do to Lady Dangerfield arose.

“She wanted to know about the night he… he d-died.”

Of course she had. Marcus had been her lover. Maybe in her own way she’d even loved him, although Isabella doubted anyone could have done that. But then, Lady Dangerfield’s personality was very similar to Marcus’s, so perhaps they had indeed loved one another. Who knew? “What did you tell her?”

Dora swallowed. “Nothing. I told her nothing. I told her Marcus killed himself.”

Which of course wasn’t true.

Isabella nodded. “Well done.”

Dora’s hands turned over under Isabella’s hold and gripped hers tightly. “Oh, Bella, she’s not going to give up until she finds out. I’m sure of it. She had mad eyes, like you have sometimes when I know you’re not going to drop a subject. She means to find out the truth.”

Isabella scowled. “She’s never going to find out, Dora, I can assure you. All we need to do is remain silent. Nearly two months have passed. We’re safe. He’s buried and we have our new duke here. He won’t let anything happen to us.”

But would he? She might like him, but did he like her? She couldn’t tell. And if he did like her, would it be enough to make him want to keep their secret if he ever discovered it? Perhaps, on reflection, she ought to make herself be a little more friendly towards him. Which wouldn’t, in truth, be difficult. What she didn’t want to admit to herself was that she liked him rather too much. To the point of it perhaps being dangerous.

“Everything will be all right,” she said to Dora, false confidence filling her voice. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll come through this.”