She covered Mrs. Brigg’s hand with her own, remorse clawing at her, but she couldn’t be silent now. She’d come to Darlington Castle for answers. “He was an affectionate brother, then?”
“Oh, my yes. Gideon—forgive me, Cecilia, for speaking of Lord Darlington so familiarly, but I’ve been with the family since the two boys were just wee lads, long before their father inherited the title. Gideon fairly worshipped his elder brother, he did. He and Nathanial were as close as two brothers could be.”
“How did Nathanial die, Mrs. Briggs?”
“One night he was…oh, Duncan Geary, there you are!” Mrs. Briggs shot up from her chair, wiping a hand across her cheek. “Where have you been all this time, my boy?”
Cecilia’s heart sank at the interruption, but she turned around in her chair to offer Duncan Geary, one of Lord Darlington’s few remaining footmen a smile.
Duncan was a red-headed Scot from Inverness who was old enough to tower over all the other servants, but young enough not yet to have worked out quite what to do with his long, gangly limbs. Cecilia was fond of him because he was a kind, gentle lad, and because he had the good sense to be sweet on Amy. “Hello, Duncan.”
Duncan blushed and ducked his head. “Hello, Miss Cecilia. I’ve been in the woods again with his lordship and Lord Haslemere, ma’am, chasing that lantern light,” he said to Mrs. Briggs.
Mrs. Briggs was bustling about for biscuits and another teacup for Duncan. “I suppose he’s got you looking for those poachers, has he? Well, well, sit down and have some tea. You must be frozen half solid.”
“What makes Lord Darlington think it’s poachers?” Poachers raiding the woods while the household was still awake, in plain sight of the castle, and carrying lanterns? That didn’t sound like any poachers Cecilia had ever heard of.
“They’re either poachers or pranksters, mayhap, but whoever they are, they’ve got no business being on castle grounds. But never mind that, Cecilia. It’s nearly Isabella’s bedtime. You can go straight to her bedchamber. I’ve had Amy move all your things there.”
“My things?” Cecilia asked, puzzled.
“Of course, child. You’re to sleep in Isabella’s room, now you’re to be her nursemaid.”
Cecilia stared at Mrs. Briggs in horror. Isabella’s room was connected to Lord Darlington’s apartments, with only a flimsy door between them. Why, she might as well be sleeping in Lord Darlington’s bedchamber with him! “It…didn’t occur to me I’d have to change rooms.”
“Well, of course you must, dear. Since Amy is taking up your duties, and you’re to take charge of Isabella, the two of you will switch places. It makes sense, really. Amy’s a good girl, but she doesn’t know much about children, does she?” Mrs. Briggs flapped her tea towel at Cecilia to shoo her away. “Go on, then. Isabella likely has poor Amy in fits by now.”
“Yes, Mrs. Briggs.” Cecilia left the kitchen in a daze. Somehow, she’d overlooked the fact that becoming Isabella’s nursemaid meant she was obliged to sleep close to—and within easy reach of—the Marquess of Darlington.
It wasn’t a comforting thought. Between the ghosts, secret bedchambers, a haunted cat, and a mysterious, brooding marquess, it would be a miracle if she ever got another wink of sleep again.
The tea she’d had sloshed sickeningly in her stomach as she made her way up the staircase. She hadn’t eaten enough today. After beating carpets, dusting up cobwebs, and scrubbing floors, food had been the last thing on her mind, but now her head was bobbling uncertainly on her neck, as if deciding whether to stay attached or topple off and tumble down the stairs into the entrance hall.
She dragged her aching body up one step to the next, then paused at the second-floor landing and glanced around, searching for the portraits Mrs. Briggs had mentioned. The long, narrow hallway to the left didn’t lead anywhere, but ended at a large window at the far end.
It might have been another dreary space in a dreary castle but for the intricately carved white plaster ceilings. They were high enough to lend an airiness to the space, and barrel-shaped, with chandeliers set at regular intervals. The candles weren’t lit, but Cecilia could see they’d been carefully arranged to emphasize the ceiling’s pleasing curve.
It was a lovely place. Rather surprising, really, given the atmosphere in the rest of the castle. She wandered down the hallway toward the first painting, but stopped in her tracks when her gaze landed on a stunningly beautiful face set off