The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,113
not blind.”
“No. I know.” Eyes still locked with hers, he drew in a deeper breath; all in all, this had gone better than he’d hoped. “So.” He let the word lie, an invitation for her to accept and use as she chose.
She considered him for a moment longer, then gave a fractional nod. “So what have you learned?”
His instincts bade him seize the question and run, but . . . he couldn’t quite believe he was getting off that easily. “That’s it? You’re not going to rail at me?”
She didn’t look away; a heartbeat passed, then she lightly shrugged. “As you’ve realized your shortcomings on your own, railing would be superfluous and would only waste time. And my temper.” She tipped her head. “So, to repeat, what have you learned?”
He had, apparently, saved himself from the worst, but . . . he grimaced. “Absolutely nothing.”
She frowned, then turned and sat on the nearer end of the chaise. She was wearing a blue-and-black striped evening gown, with a cameo on a blue velvet band about her neck; she looked fresh and vivid, the gown perfect for a quiet country dinner alone with her husband. With him.
Looking up at him, she stated, “All I’ve heard is that there was an adder found in my bed this morning. I’m sure you’ve been trying to learn how it got there.”
He fought not to let his expression grow too grim. “We’re surrounded by woods and forests, and there are adders out there, but we’ve never had one in the gardens, much less the house. When the tweeny went into your bedroom this morning to check the fireplace, she noticed movement under the coverlet and had the sense to summon Forsythe. He and the gardeners caught and removed the snake, but . . . to say that everyone’s mystified as to how it got there, on the first floor and between your sheets, would be an understatement.”
She blinked, for a long moment simply stared up at him, then he saw her breasts rise as she drew in a deep, then deeper, breath. “Someone put it there.” She sounded as disbelieving as he’d felt.
“Yes, but.” Pushing away from the mantelpiece, he moved past her. “As far as it’s humanly possible to be certain, I do not believe it was any of the staff.”
Sitting on the sofa alongside her, he met her eyes as she shifted to face him. “Literally everyone who serves in this house, even in the gardens and stables, belongs to one of the estate families. When it comes to loyalty, you know what that means as well as I. According to Forsythe and Mrs. Pritchard, and Filmore, the head stableman, and Dukes, the head gardener, everyone’s been in alt over our marriage, and eager and excited over meeting you. Not a word has been spoken against you—and yes, I asked them to check, and they did. Nothing. Everyone in the household has been shocked by the news.”
He hesitated, then went on, “More to the point, because yesterday was yesterday and everyone was determined to make sure everything was perfect, the maids and footmen were up and down the stairs, constantly in and out of our rooms. Your bed wasn’t made up until about four o’clock, and your maid, Aggie, was in the dressing room next door more or less from the moment she arrived in the early afternoon to when the staff were summoned to line up outside to greet you.”
Mary blinked, then caught his gaze. “That’s when it was done—when everyone was lined up outside. It was the one time anyone wishing to do such a thing could be absolutely certain there was no one inside the house—that they could get in and out without anyone seeing them.”
He frowned. “But—”
Reaching out, Mary gripped his hand. “Have you checked to see if any stranger was seen in the neighborhood?”
His frown deepened. “No.” Turning his hand, he closed his fingers around hers. “We’ve only just finished checking about the house, making sure everyone here was accounted for.”
She nodded; a sense of sudden urgency gripped her as another explanation surfaced in her mind. Looking into Ryder’s eyes, gripping his hand more tightly, she asked, “Could this possibly be what Barnaby warned us about—that the same miscreant who tried to have you killed in London wants you dead, and this is his next attempt?”
He looked into her eyes, but then, lips setting, shook his head. “If that were so, don’t you think they would have put the