Bound By A Scandalous Secret

Lorene pulled away and climbed into the coach.

‘Safe journey,’ Penford said through the window.

As the coachman was mounting his seat, a horse’s hooves sounded near. A beautiful silver-grey steed appeared beside the coach.

Rossdale leaned down from his saddle to look inside the coach. ‘You are leaving already!’

Genna leaned out the window. ‘We must get back.’

‘Forgive me for not being here to say a proper goodbye.’ His horse danced restlessly beside them.

Genna spoke in a false tone. ‘I do not believe I shall forgive you.’ She smiled. ‘But thank you for allowing me to give you a tour of the house. It was most kind.’

He grinned. ‘It certainly was more than I ever thought it would be.’

The coach started to move.

‘Goodbye!’ Genna sat back, but turned to look out the back window as the coach pulled away.

Rossdale dismounted from his horse and stood with Penford watching the coach leave.

They watched until the coach travelled out of their sight.

Chapter Five (#u4effa6c4-5cae-55ce-a353-1c7099a2e2a9)

Lorene fretted on the road back to Tinmore Hall. ‘I wish we had not gone. He will have been frantic with worry when we did not return last night.’

Did she fear the effect of Tinmore’s worry on his health or that he would blame her for their absence?

‘He wanted us to go,’ Genna reminded her. ‘He ordered us to go.’

Lorene curled up in the corner of the carriage, making herself even smaller. ‘Still, we should not have gone.’

Genna tried to change the subject. ‘What did you think of our cousin, then? Lord Penford. Did you know he just inherited the title this summer?’

Lorene did not answer right away. ‘I did not know that,’ she finally said. ‘Perhaps that was why he was so sad.’

‘Sad?’ Genna had not considered that. Perhaps he had not been disagreeable and rude. Perhaps he’d still been grieving. His father would have died only a few months before. She felt a pang of guilt.

‘He’s taking care of the house,’ Genna said, trying to make amends, at least in her own mind. ‘Anna said he paid the servants their back wages.’

‘Did he?’ Lorene glanced back at her. ‘How very kind of him.’

Genna might have continued the conversation by asking what Lorene thought of Rossdale, but she didn’t. She felt Lorene really wished to be quiet. Instead Genna recounted their tour of the house, intending to fix in her memory the details of each room they’d visited. More vivid, though, were Rossdale’s reactions to those details. She’d enjoyed showing him the rooms more than she’d enjoyed visiting them.

Their carriage crossed over the bridge and the cupolas of Tinmore Hall came into view. The snow-covered lawn only set off the house more, its yellow stone gleaming gold in the morning sun. Genna’s spirits sank.

She hated the huge mausoleum. The house hadn’t seen a change in over fifty years. At least her mother had kept Summerfield House filled with the latest fashion in furnishings—at least until she ran off with her lover.

The carriage passed through the wrought-iron gate and drove up to the main entrance. Two footmen emerged from the house, ready to attend them. Moments later they were in the great hall, its mahogany wainscoting such a contrast to the light, airy plasterwork of Summerfield House.

Dixon, the butler, greeted Lorene. ‘It is good you are back, m’lady.’

‘How is Lord Tinmore?’ she asked.

‘His fever is worse, I fear, m’lady,’ he responded. ‘He spent a fitful night.’

Oh, dear. This would only increase Lorene’s guilt.

‘Did the doctor see him yesterday?’ Lorene handed one of the footmen her cloak and gloves.

Dixon nodded. ‘The doctor spent the night, caught in the storm as you were. He is here now.’

The doctor’s presence should give Lorene some comfort.

‘I must go to him.’ Lorene started for the stairway. ‘I ought to have been at his side last night.’

‘He would not have known it if you were,’ Dixon said.

Lorene halted and turned her head. ‘He was that ill?’

‘Insensible with fever, Wicky told us.’

‘That is good, Lorene,’ Genna broke in. ‘He cannot be angry at you if he does not know you were gone.’

Lorene swung around. ‘It is not good!’ she snapped. ‘He is ill.’

Genna felt her face grow hot. ‘I am so sorry. It was a thoughtless thing to say.’

‘And very unkind,’ Lorene added.

‘Yes,’ Genna admitted, filled with shame. ‘Very unkind. I am so sorry.’

Lorene turned her back on Genna and ran up the stairs.

Why could she not still her tongue at moments like these? She must admit she cared more about Lorene’s welfare than Tinmore’s health, but she did not precisely wish him to be seriously ill, did she?

She took a breath and glanced at Dixon. ‘Is Lord Tinmore so very ill?’

His expression was disapproving. ‘I gather so from Wicky’s report.’

Genna deserved his disdain. By day’s end the other servants would hear of her uncharitable comment and would call her an ungrateful wretch.

Which she was.

* * *

Over the next three days Genna hardly saw Lorene, who devoted all of her time to her husband’s care. Genna would have happily assisted in some way—for Lorene’s sake, not Tinmore’s—but no one required anything of her and anything she offered was refused. She kept to her room, mostly, and amused herself by drawing galloping horses with tall, long-coated riders. She could never quite capture that sense of fluid movement she’d seen that day when she’d gone to make a painting of Summerfield House.