over Isabella this time. He passed into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and made his way back down the stairs to his study, his stomach tight. He had some business with Cecilia, and the sooner it was done, the better.
Chapter Seven
“Dismissed?” Cecilia’s thoughts ground to a halt, her mind going blank.
She shouldn’t be as shocked as she was, but somehow it wasn’t what she’d expected Lord Darlington to say. He had every right to be angry with her, of course. She’d broken the rules of the house by entering the late marchioness’s bedchamber. She hadn’t expected he’d be pleased about it, but for all his glowering, she hadn’t thought he’d dismiss her before giving her another chance to explain herself.
But the man who’d been waiting for her on the other side of the study door tonight was not the same calm, forbearing gentleman of this morning. The patience he’d shown over the coal scuttle incident had vanished, leaving the Lord Darlington with the icy blue eyes in his wake.
This was the other Lord Darlington, the one she met the day she arrived. The black-clad avenging fury who’d crept out of the woods and accosted her beside Darlington Lake. This was the Lord Darlington who’d called her a liar.
He was a dozen different men in one body, it seemed, each version contradicting the others. Murderer or doting uncle? Cold spouse or loving husband? Kind, generous employer, or haughty arrogant marquess? No sooner would Cecilia begin to suspect he was a cold-blooded killer than he’d do something like rock his niece to sleep, and it would set her wondering.
And now he was dismissing her—again—without allowing her to utter a single word in her defense.
It took some moments of private fuming before Cecilia realized she was truly angry. She shouldn’t be. She hadn’t grown any fonder of Darlington Castle in the day she’d been under its roof. It remained as grim and sinister as it had since she’d first passed under that dreadful portcullis. If she were in her right mind, she’d turn on her heel without another word, run upstairs to pack her case, and demand to be taken away tonight.
So, no one was more surprised than she when she did precisely the opposite, but her temper was roused now, and there was no way she’d end her time at Darlington Castle with another timid yes, my lord.
Instead, she remained where she was. “No, my lord.”
He gaped at her. “No? What do you mean, no?”
Cecilia crossed her arms over her chest. “I realize I wasn’t meant to enter the late Lady Darlington’s bedchamber, but—”
“That’s right, you weren’t. I specifically ordered you to stay away from it, and now I’ve caught you sneaking—”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I’m trying to tell you what happened. I heard a noise, and—”
“I explained the rules to you, and you broke them,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I don’t think you’re being honest with me about how you got into that bedchamber.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Lord Darlington.” Cecilia’s anger was rising with every word out of his mouth. It was the blue ribbons, all over again. “The door wasn’t locked.”
“The trouble, Cecilia, is I don’t believe you.” He was toying with the silver letter opener on his desk, moving it between his long fingers, but his gaze remained locked on her face. “I did warn you a foray into my late wife’s bedchamber would result in your immediate dismissal. You chose to ignore that warning.”
Cecilia bristled. “I did not enter Lady Darlington’s bedchamber on a whim, my lord. I told you. I was concerned for your niece’s safety. I never would have gone into the marchioness’s bedchamber otherwise. Given the circumstances, you have no reason to dismiss me.”
Lord Darlington gave her an incredulous look. “I’m the Marquess of Darlington, Cecilia. I may do as I choose, for whatever reason I choose.”
Cecilia wasn’t argumentative in general, preferring to leave such unpleasantness to Georgiana, yet there was her mouth, opening once again. “I’m simply asking you to consider—”
“There’s nothing further to consider. I must trust my servants, and I don’t trust you. That isn’t going to change.”
Cecilia considered him in silence, her eyes narrowed. Perhaps he hadn’t murdered his wife, but he was certainly hiding something. Innocent men didn’t require blind loyalty from their servants, nor did they lock empty bedchambers in their castles. He was the most secretive man she’d ever encountered, and there had to be a reason for it.
But whatever he