AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He had more questions for Bridget, and he feared what her answers might be.
* * *
The day was bright and sunny when he reached home once again. Warren met him on the stairs, just as before, and informed Graham that his mother had once again taken to bed. Graham was worried, naturally, but he was at least glad that he had given her no reason to worry.
Warren, though, was certainly worried.
“I went into your chambers in search of you, Your Grace,” he said as he followed Graham upstairs. “I found shattered glass and blood on the floor, and now you return soaking wet. What on earth has happened?”
Graham grimaced. “I did not mean to worry any of you,” he said. “I was… I did not behave like a gentleman last night. I took too much brandy and, in my drunkenness, I broke a glass. I should have told you I was going out.”
“But where did you go?” Warren asked. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to pry. I simply wish to remind you that it is easy to get lost in the countryside on dark nights, and especially after Lady Mary’s loss…”
Graham’s heart clenched when he realized Warren had tears in his eyes. The old man had known both he and his sister their whole lives. Of course, he must miss her too.
“I actually went to the lake to think about Mary,” he said. “You know those nights when the moon shines on the hills? Sometimes, it feels like the dead are still with us, and I just… I had to see where she died.”
Warren closed his eyes, shaking his head. He reached out and clapped Graham on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Please be careful, Your Grace,” he said.
God, Warren was right. Graham had been careless the night before, and it would have been easy for him to fall into the lake and drown himself. He had been close to the edge, and had clearly passed out sometime after he’d arrived. He could not even remember arriving there, drunk as he had been.
“I will,” he said. “Do you think I should go and speak to my mother? She isn’t worried, is she?”
“She has been sleeping peacefully all morning,” Warren said. “The physician came earlier, and Her Grace asked to see you, but I told her you were indisposed.”
“And what was the physician’s diagnosis?” Graham asked anxiously.
Warren’s brow furrowed. “She is fine, Your Grace, or as fine as anyone in such a situation could be. The physician believes she was merely so stricken with grief that it affected her constitution, especially given that she has been ill this year. Otherwise, she is on the mend from her bout with influenza last spring.”
Graham sighed in relief. He had not even known how nervous he was about his mother’s health until he heard she was all right. “Thank God,” he said. “I will let her sleep, then. And I shall...”
He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do, but his stomach grumbled. He had barely touched his late supper last night, and he was famished after his night riding and sleeping by the lake. Warren chuckled at the sound, gesturing for Graham to follow him.
“Come along, Your Grace,” he said, reminding him of the days when Warren had been like a second father to him. “I will make sure you get something to eat, since you seem so inclined to neglect your own well-being.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Graham spent the whole of breakfast—or luncheon, given how late it already was in the day—pondering Bridget’s flight from the lake, and her strange drawings. He did not take them from his pocket. He could not bear to look at them again. They, however, were ingrained in his mind, etched onto his memories with sharp clarity.
Graham was deeply confused about the whole situation. Bridget clearly desired him, even if she did not love him, and he did not think she cared for Lord Bragg at all. They had almost kissed at the lake, and fate kept tossing them together, playing its cruel games with the two of them.
He had to stay in Hertfordshire with his mother, and he had to learn the secret of Mary’s death. For Graham was certain now that it had been no accident.
And Bridget Sedgwick knew something about the whole affair.
He finished with his breakfast as he scribbled in one of his notebooks, putting his thoughts on the page. He sat for so long, he realized it was now time for tea, and he hadn’t had a drop to drink. Rather than wait for the servants to return, he rose and made his way to the kitchen, eager to fetch himself some tea or coffee.
Then, he heard something that caught his interest.
Two servants were in the kitchen, discussing something under their breaths. He did not know either of their names, as they had been brought on after he had last departed for London, but he knew one as a cook and the other as a maid. The cook was busy kneading bread, flour flying around her, while the maid leaned against the counter beside her with her arms crossed.
“Well, I just think the whole situation is awful,” the maid said. “A true friend? Absurd! She immediately betrayed our poor, deceased Lady Mary.”
Graham paused in the doorway, immediately concealing himself around the corner. Neither of the women had seen him, and he was eager to hear what they had to say. Could they, perhaps, provide a clue as to what had happened to his sister?
“He’s not much better though, is he?” the cook said, her Scottish accent strong enough to force Graham to listen closely to make out her words. “Running about town with both girls, tossing out proposals willy-nilly.”
“He loved Mary, though,” the maid said. “She spoke of him so fondly, remember? Always telling us of his adventures and how he was going to take her away to Jamaica, to explore the world. Bridget must have worked some kind of witchcraft on him to convince him to marry her instead. And to accept his proposal on the day of her best friend’s death! What a wretched creature.”
