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Ivy knew all too well how fast rumors spread and how dangerous they could be. Her family had received the cut thanks to the mistaken belief they’d stolen the Prince Regent’s dog.
Well, she supposed theytechnicallyhad but that wasn’t the point. It was an accident. There had been no nefarious motives, no idea of selling the dog off. All they’d been guilty of was fussing it too much then not realizing it had stowed away in their carriage.
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
Muriel dropped the cushion to the sofa. “I’m not one to enjoy gossip—”
Ivy gave her a bemused look.
“Well, I do not mind gossip,” she admitted, “but not when it can be harmful to a person.” Her throat bobbed. “Or a marriage.”
“What have you heard, Muriel?”
“It’s just that...well...”
Ivy curled her fingers into the edge of the windowsill and braced herself. Whatever it was, she would not let it sway her. She would still do her best to get to know her husband, to connect with the man who built her fences and wrestled cats for her and let her sleep on his lap.
“Yes?”
“Some of the servants say that His Lordship murdered someone.”
Ivy blinked rapidly. She’d feared it was a lover. Someone tucked away that explained his distance and forever changing attitude toward her.
She never expected anything like this.
“What have they said?” she asked huskily.
“That it was a long time ago, and that he killed her because she wanted another man.”
Tightening her grip on the windowsill as her head swirled, Ivy stared ahead at the Persian rug under Muriel’s shoes. It couldn’t be true.
“I think it’s all nonsense,” Muriel said firmly. “The servants are a vindictive bunch. They cannot stand that His Lordship brought in a new steward—and rightly so because the last man was a pompous fool—and they’re all snobs.”
“Snobs?” Ivy repeated vaguely.
“They don’t think he’s enough of a gentleman to be a viscount.” Muriel continued muttering insults about the other servants, but Ivy heard little.
All she could think of was the man at the edge of the estate and why she had not heard anything of these rumors about her husband. If it was long ago, surely Aunt Sarah would have heard something, or even her parents?
It couldn’t be true.
The man who helped her look after animals and touched her so tenderly couldn’t be a killer. It was impossible.
However, her husband had secrets and it didn’t look like he was going to divulge them anytime soon. Which meant she had to investigate and quickly.
Before any more men showed up and threatened Cillian. And before anything escalated. Because if she knew anything about men, it was that they were entirely too keen to start a fight and innocent bystanders could quite easily get caught up in the battle.
***
“I want someone with the viscountess at all times.” Cillian followed after Shah who paused by the vegetable patch and made a charcoal mark in a small, leather-bound book.
The kitchen garden had been neglected in the time between Cillian’s uncle’s death and Cillian taking over the title but if they were to make the estate less of a financial drain the house could do with sustaining itself.
What Shah was noting, Cillian couldn’t make out, and quite how his friend knew so much about vegetable and herb growing, he had yet to discover. However, by the looks of the generous amounts of broccoli and varying herbs Cillian could not name, Shah was doing a fine job of managing the gardeners.
“I’d take that up with Mrs. Baxter.”
Shah took a few more steps, bent to peer at what Cillian suspected could be fennel. Perhaps if he’d enjoyed a leisurely childhood of reading and studying at Eton much like his cousin, he would know, but his knowledge was limited to battle plans and running a household on a limited budget. Who knew his childhood experience of living on little income would be so useful? The only trouble was, this house was a lot larger than the one he and his mother had lived in before her return to Ireland.
