Free Love and Larceny by Regina Scott Page B

of it, sir. Hammering, like. And oaths, as if something
dropped on someone’s foot.”
    “Oh, really,” Sheridan started, but Lady
Emily held up a hand.
    “Where, exactly?” she asked. Mr. Harrop
leaned forward as if to better hear the answer.
    “West wing, your ladyship,” the footman said.
“Just below where the countess used to sleep.”
    Sir James leaned forward as well. “The
Countess of Brentfield sleeps in the east wing, with her husband,
I’m told.”
    “The lady who married Lord Brentfield sleeps
there,” the footman allowed, tugging down on his black and silver
livery. “The countess, I heard, slept in the west wing, and some
say she never left.”
    Mr. Harrop grunted as a chill went through
Wynn. Was that why the dowager Lady Brentfield hadn’t been seen in
London this Season, as was her wont? Was she a prisoner of the very
manor she’d thought was her home? To what evil purpose? He simply
couldn’t see Hannah or her husband as some kind of cruel
wardens.
    “Nonsense,” Lady Emily said, voice strident.
“Lady Brentfield no longer lives at the manor.”
    Wynn could see the butler regarding her
thoughtfully.
    The footman shrugged. “Just saying what some
believe, your ladyship. All I know is that Lady Brentfield had an
accident here, and no one ever saw her again. You tell me what
happened to her.”
    Daphne hopped to her feet. “I can tell you.
She’s alive and well and living outside London.”

Chapter Ten

    Brooks Sheridan stared at Daphne. “The
dowager Lady Brentfield is in London? Why hasn’t she been seen this
Season? How can I pay my respects?”
    Oh, would she never learn? She’d sat too
long, and her brain had gone numb so that she forgot herself.
Daphne could see Sir James, Emily, and Wynn all gazing at her with
varying degrees of disappointment. Mr. Harrop was scowling once
more. Another word on the subject, and she’d spill Priscilla’s
Dreaded Family Secret.
    “I believe Mother will be looking for me,”
she murmured. Then she turned away from their censure and hurried
from the room.
    But she refused to join Ariadne and the
others in the orangery. She needed movement, air. She strode down
the corridor, muslin snapping at her ankles. Oh, these horrid
fashionable skirts! Her riding habits had so much more room to
move. For how could she think without moving?
    Where was that door to the outside? She felt
as if the paneled walls were drawing closer, the ceiling lowering.
Why couldn’t she just escape?
    “They continued the interview,” Wynn said,
falling into step beside her as if he was meant to be there. His
boots flashed with his steps, limp pronounced. She forced herself
to slow.
    “I’m glad my mistake didn’t cost Emily the
information she was seeking,” Daphne said, gaze going to the
carpeted floor.
    “Indeed no. In fact, I think her questioning
will go easier now that we can dispel any rumors that the dowager
Lady Brentfield has passed on and might be haunting the place.”
    Daphne blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have
spoken. I hope you know I’m not an idiot, Wynn. It’s just this
sitting about fills my head with fog. I feel as if I’m slipping
away. Do you think I might be mad?”
    She chanced a glance his way to find a soft
smile on his face. Somehow, that made the last few minutes more
bearable.
    “You’re not insane,” he told her, pausing at
a painting of horses thundering across a field. “You were born for
adventure. The rest of the world must seem terribly tedious
compared to that.”
    “Not always tedious,” she assured him, making
herself stop beside him. “I enjoy talking with my friends,
listening to a music recital. But sooner or later it’s as if
someone dims the lights, and I simply cannot find my focus. Mother
says I just need discipline. I have discipline—I learned to ride
and dance and follow the rules of good Society. But I cannot seem
to pay attention at all the times expected. It is a great source of
frustration for