before Mrs. Briggs mentioned the spearmint tea.”
His shoulders stiffened. “How could you?”
“I found Cassandra’s diary on the bottom shelf of her clothes press.” It occurred to Cecilia to tell him about Seraphina, and the unusual way in which she’d led Cecilia to the diary, but strangely enough, it felt private, as if she’d be betraying Seraphina if she did.
Or perhaps not Seraphina so much as…Cassandra.
“You read my wife’s private diary?”
The shard of ice in his voice pierced Cecilia’s chest and lodged in her heart, but she and Gideon were long past denials now. “Yes. Her description of her illness seemed strange to me. I became convinced she’d been poisoned, and once I found the secret passageway, I realized Lady Leanora must have done it.”
Gideon’s face was as blank as a stone, and the blue eyes that had looked at her with such heat just hours before had turned as cold as ice. “Who are you? You’re no ordinary housemaid, that’s certain. Is your name even Cecilia Gilchrist?”
Cecilia twisted her hands in her soot-stained skirts. This was the moment she’d been dreading, but there was nothing for her to do now but face it. “My name is Cecilia Gilchrist, but I’m not a housemaid, and I didn’t come here from Stoneleigh. I live in London, at the Clifford School, with Lady Amanda Clifford. Lady Clifford is—”
“I know who Lady Clifford is, and I know what she does.” Gideon’s voice was hard, flat. “She sent you to Darlington Castle to prove I’m the Murderous Marquess all of London believes me to be.”
It hadn’t been as simple as that, but Cecilia didn’t try and explain herself. “She sent me to find out how Lady Cassandra died. My task was to uncover the truth before your marriage to Miss Honeywell could take place.”
If anything, his eyes grew even colder. “So, I was right about you that first day we met. You are a liar.”
Cecilia’s eyes dropped closed, pain pressing down on her, stealing her breath. She knew the worst of his anger and bitterness wasn’t truly directed at her. He was in shock, exhausted and devastated by the fire, and heartbroken over his wife’s death all over again. He felt as if he’d failed Cassandra and his son, and was blaming himself for their deaths.
She knew it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
But she’d told him everything now, just as she’d promised she would. There was no longer any reason for her to remain at Darlington Castle, unless…unless Gideon wanted her here. “The next stagecoach leaves for London in an hour. I’ll gather my things together.”
She waited, every part of her aching for him to stop her from leaving, to tell her he wanted her to stay with him. To tell her he wanted her at all.
“No. No stagecoach.”
Her heart gave a cautious leap, but her hopes were dashed to bits when he added, “My coachman will take you.”
Cecilia nodded, her eyes stinging. “Yes, I…all right. Thank you.”
He didn’t spare her another word or glance, but left the house, closing the door behind him with a finality that echoed in every chamber of Cecilia’s empty heart. Within the hour a coach with the Darlington crest pulled up in front of the Dower house. Cecilia just had time to say goodbye to Mrs. Briggs and Amy, and kiss Isabella’s forehead, before she found herself huddled in a corner of it and on her way back to London.
Gideon didn’t come to bid her goodbye. She didn’t see him again.
It was dark when the coach arrived at No. 26 Maddox Street in London’s West End. By then Cecilia felt as if she’d been dragged halfway across England. Every part of her ached—her legs, her shoulders, her head—and she was exhausted in a way she never had been before.
In her body, her mind, her heart, and her soul.
She staggered up the stairs of the Clifford School, opened the door, and slipped inside. Perhaps she could sneak upstairs without a word to anyone, pull the coverlet over her head, and fall into a dream where there was no grief, no loss, no fire, and no death.
No icy blue eyes staring down at her as if they’d never seen her before.
But it was not to be. Lady Clifford herself happened to be coming down the hallway from the drawing room just as Cecilia paused in the entryway. “Cecilia? Is that you? My goodness, child! Why didn’t you send word? Daniel would have come for you, and…Cecilia? Why, whatever’s