say, closing the ledger I was working on.
“Milly said Miss Goodwin is snooping around the manor.”
I wait for Mrs. Potter to move to the front of my desk, but instead she remains behind me, out of sight, like some demonic familiar who’s come to suggest sinful deeds in my ear. I twist in my seat, sling an arm around the back of my leather chair, and give her a long-suffering stare. “Milly?”
“The one with the black hair,” Mrs. Potter says, waving her hand as if it doesn’t matter which of her underlings reported the news.
“Snooping?”
“She’s been seen going into every room that doesn’t have a lock, m’lord.” Mrs. Potter narrows her eyes. “And keeps trying those that do.”
My hackles rise, but I force out a laugh and the feeling goes away. “She’s not a spy,” I say, turning back to my work and flipping open the thick leather-bound ledger again. I run a gloved finger down the page until I find my place. “And she’s welcome to go anywhere she wants.”
“Even the nursery?”
My mouth goes dry. This is the first time Mrs. Potter has ever mentioned the nursery. I push to my feet and, when I face her, she ducks her head into her shoulders as if convinced that I’m about to deliver a beating. “I’m starting to think we can do with less staff around this place if they have enough free time to stalk my guests,” I say, my voice as tight as my chest. “There’s still time to send some of them home before the snows, Mrs. Potter.”
She drops her gaze, stiffens, and then gives me a reluctant nod. When she turns and heads back the way she came, I clear my throat at her and she spins and heads out the study door instead. As she puts her hand on the doorknob, I add, “And what did I tell you about using the servant’s passages?”
“Sorry, m’lord,” she mutters without looking at me. “Won’t ’appen again.”
“Damn right it won’t.”
The door closes a touch harder than necessary, but I just shake my head and go back to my work. Time flows as it always does as I lose myself in the row upon row of numbers and dates, but before long my mind goes back to what Mrs. Potter told me.
Even the nursery?
I shove away the ledger and rub my eyes. When I glance up at the clock, I let out a low groan. Still two hours before I can even consider pouring myself a drink. I drum my fingers on my desk, and then shake my head and drag the ledger back in front of me.
This is certainly not the time for self-indulgence. I need to keep a clear head when there’s a stranger in the house. Especially if what Tilly says is true. Dunnwood Manor is cursed. Not with a witch’s spell or fairy dust — but with darkness. Everyone who roams these halls has a secret they would never want uncovered. And, if they didn’t have one, Dunnwood Manor will graciously provide.
7
Pippa
If it hadn’t been for the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, I wouldn’t have known I was no longer alone. Barely moving, I pull Rose from my nipple and swap out the rubber teat again. This time, the babe is so close to sleeping, she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Are you having success?”
I jump a little, and can only hope it comes across as natural. I glance at Mrs. Potter over my shoulder, consider giving her a smile, and then decide she’s not worth the effort.
“I am,” I say dryly. “Is there something I can help you with?” I should probably not be so catty with the help, but then again, she shouldn’t be spying on me.
“Sir Brandon asked me to pass on a message,” Mrs. Potter says, and then moves until she’s blocking the heat of the baron’s fireplace.
It’s a strange dance we do, the baron and I. When I knocked on his study door an hour ago and he let me in, we stared at each other for a few seconds before either of us moved. Then he simply ducked his head and left, not saying a word.
I would have heard the study door open — it has a very distinctive creak about it — which means Mrs. Potter must have used the hidden staircase to come in unannounced.
“He says you are to keep to your rooms until you are needed. The manor is not yours to walk about