Free The Vital Principle by Amy Corwin Page B

tiny bell and its accompanying framework. She would certainly want to recover it, although probably not from his hands. After righting the chair, he took another slow survey of the room.
    All traces of the previous night were gone. Or almost all.
    The slightly darker patch of carpet caught his attention. Kneeling by the table, he ran a hand over the spot where the maid had dropped the bottle of Madeira. The area was still damp and the scent of ammonia didn't quite eliminate the odor of the spilled wine. Sunlight streaming through the windows sparkled off a few tiny shards of glass from one of the glasses that had fallen from the maid's tray. He idly picked them out of the carpet fibers and placed them on the table.
    Then he leaned down with his head an inch above the carpet to study the texture of the area. The nap was indeed irregular. The patterns of lotus and other flowers were raised above the background to give it a realistic effect. Sculpted blossoms twined across the pale bluish-gray background near the area where the bottle of Madeira wine had fallen. The uneven, higher pile near the edge of the carpet where the blossoms concentrated might indeed trip someone expecting a smooth surface underfoot.
    “Oh!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
    Knighton got to his feet. Miss Barnard stood staring at him from the other side of the table. “Miss Barnard,” he greeted her. “How are you this morning?”
    “Quite well. And you?” Her voice was coldly polite and a small frown puckered the skin between her brows.
    His lips twitched with faint amusement at her expression. She appeared annoyed with his presence, and he had a notion he knew why. He clasped his hands behind his back.
    “I'm surprised to see you up so early.”
    “It's nearly mid-morning.” Her eyes flashed as her gaze quickly surveyed the room.
    “Indeed, so it is.” He paused, waiting for her to speak, but she just stared at a point somewhere around his left ear. “May I help you?”
    “Help me? You can stop flinging false accusations about and find the person responsible for last night's atrocity.”
    “I intend to do so.”
    She nodded. “They are serving breakfast in the dining room. However, you'll have to hurry. They were preparing to clear away.”
    “I already ate, but thank you for your concern. I can accompany you to the dining room, if you wish.”
    “No—I'm not hungry.” Her frown deepened. “Are you sure you don't want something to eat? They have some lovely kippers. Or perhaps you'd rather go for a walk? It's a beautiful morning.”
    “Excellent notion. Would you accompany me?” He struggled to keep from chuckling, knowing she wanted him out of the room so she could retrieve the tiny bell. Her face and the tense set of her shoulders revealed all too clearly her growing frustration.
    “No, um, the dowager sent me on an errand.” She strode forward hesitantly.
    “Then perhaps I can assist you? Did she mislay something last night?”
    “No.” Her glance alighted on a few objects resting on a low table near the marble hearth. “I’m to fetch Lady Crowley’s magazine and her embroidery bag.” She walked briskly toward the fireplace.
    He couldn’t see her face but the tips of her ears glowed crimson. She was blushing although not, he believed, from mortification. She was angry that he hadn't taken the hint and left her alone. When her gaze drifted repeatedly toward the chairs lining the wall, he rubbed his mouth to hide his smile.
    Having committed herself to the lie, she picked up the magazine and sewing basket. Then, with a brief glance at him, she moved over to the straight-backed, wooden chair nearest the door. She hesitated.
    “Are you leaving?” he asked.
    She sat down, her face flushed. “No. I, um, feel faint.” She brushed her fingers over her temple.
    Her left hand dropped down past the edge of the seat. Her blush deepened. She leaned forward and the basket and