illuminating. “Very well, Cecilia Gilchrist. Get the hell off my property.”
Her eyes went wide, but to his surprise, instead of scurrying off like a frightened rabbit, Cecilia Gilchrist held her ground. “But I…I’m supposed to be here. Mrs. Briggs is expecting me.”
He eyed her with suspicion. She wouldn’t know Mrs. Briggs’s name if his housekeeper wasn’t expecting her, but why was she creeping about his courtyard like a thief? “Am I meant to know who you are?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, not if you don’t choose to. That is, I suppose you may do whatever you please, being the marquess.” She offered him a tentative smile. “Unless of course there happens to be a duke about?”
Gideon didn’t smile back. Was she teasing him? No one teased him.
Not anymore.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why? Are you a duchess?”
“Goodness, no. I’m just a housemaid.” She laughed, a light, tinkling sound, but then seemed to think better of it, and bit her lip. “Your housekeeper, Mrs. Briggs offered me a position as a housemaid. I’ve come on the stage from London today to take up the post.”
Gideon’s gaze moved over her as he considered this. She didn’t look much like a housemaid to him. She was taller than he’d first thought, but slight, with narrow shoulders, a long, delicate neck, and enormous dark eyes in a pale oval face. She was young, too. Too young to be teasing a murderous marquess. Didn’t the girl have any sense at all?
“If you came to Darlington Castle to take up a post as a housemaid, then why haven’t you made your presence known to Mrs. Briggs? I fail to see what you’re doing out here in the dark.” Gideon frowned as he recalled the splash he’d heard as he approached. “What are you doing out here in the dark?”
Color rose in her pale cheeks. “Nothing of any import, my lord.”
Gideon’s lips tightened. She didn’t sound much like a housemaid, either, unless they’d become a great deal more impertinent than they used to be. He glanced down, then bent to retrieve the handful of stones she’d dropped when he’d startled her. He rose and opened his hand to show her. “Nothing?”
She blew out a breath. “I was, er…throwing stones into the lake.”
Gideon stared at her. “I can’t think of a single reason why you’d be doing that, when you must be aware Mrs. Briggs is awaiting your arrival.”
“I wanted to see if I could tell how deep it is.” She lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug.
“Six fathoms at its deepest point, though I’ve no idea why it should matter to you.”
She blinked at his curt tone. “I…it doesn’t matter, my lord. I was simply curious.”
He closed his fingers around the stones in his fist. “Curiosity isn’t a desirable quality in a housemaid.”
“No, I suppose not. I didn’t think of that.” She frowned, considering it, but then her face brightened. “I’ve got excellent aim. Perhaps that might prove a useful skill?”
Gideon didn’t like strangers, or impertinent servants, or surprises, but to his great annoyance, he found himself asking, “For what, precisely?”
“I should think it would come in handy for any number of tasks, like…” She paused, her brow wrinkling. “Wait, I know! For slapping cobwebs from the corners with a broom! This castle looks as if it’s dripping in cobwebs.”
“You’re too slight to be a proper servant.” Her thin, white wrists looked as if they’d snap under the weight of a broom. “I doubt you could lift a coal scuttle without toppling over.”
Gideon didn’t usually concern himself with the sturdiness of his housemaids, nor was he in the habit of questioning Mrs. Briggs’s judgment, but he was curious to hear what she’d say in reply, and it had been a long, long time since he’d been curious about anything.
Her smile faded. “I’m stronger than I look, my lord.”
Gideon grunted, thinking whatever she lacked in strength she’d likely make up for in ingenuity, but he didn’t say so. It sounded too much like a compliment. “Mrs. Briggs didn’t say a word to me about a new housemaid arriving today.”
He didn’t mention he’d hardly exchanged a dozen words with Mrs. Briggs since he’d arrived from London this afternoon. There hadn’t been time. He’d been impatient to begin a search of the grounds, and Mrs. Briggs, who hadn’t been expecting him to return to Kent until next week, was up to her neck in wedding preparations.
He’d intended to remain in London with Miss Honeywell for another week,