the color of a few ribbons. “I beg your pardon, Lord Darlington, but I don’t see how the color of my ribbons is irrelevant, given you’re using it as an excuse to dismiss me.”
“I don’t need an excuse to dismiss you, Miss Gilchrist.” Those icy blue eyes bored into her as if he could see right through her skin and bones, straight to her wildly beating heart. “Now, allow me to make myself perfectly clear. You are dismissed.”
How he managed to inject those three words with such menace Cecilia couldn’t say, but that deep voice, rough and clipped at the edges, wrung a shiver from her that made goosebumps rise on her skin. “But that’s not…” She began, then trailed off again.
It wasn’t what? Fair? No, it wasn’t, but what was the use in arguing with him over it? He was right. He didn’t need any better reason than the color of her ribbons to run her out of his castle. He didn’t need any reason at all. He was master here, and might act like a haughty, ill-tempered tyrant if he chose.
Why would she even want to argue with him, in any case? If Lady Darlington’s ghost wasn’t enough of a reason to go scurrying back to London, surely Lord Darlington’s unexpected presence here was?
He wasn’t meant to be here. He was meant to be in London with his betrothed, and she was meant to creep about his castle, insinuate herself among his servants, and determine whether he truly was the Murderous Marquess most of England believed him to be.
If Lady Clifford had known she was thrusting Cecilia directly into Lord Darlington’s path, she never would have sent her here at all. She would have sent Georgiana, who was as relentless as she was clever, or Emma, who would have charmed Lord Darlington into letting her remain at his castle, liar or no. If anyone could discover the truth about what had happened to Lady Darlington, it was Georgiana or Emma.
But just as Cecilia was about to gather her fancy cloak and fashionable blue ribbons and flee Darlington Castle, she recalled something Daniel Brixton had said to her before she left London.
If Lady Clifford says you’re fit for this business, lass, then you’re fit.
Lady Clifford had more faith in Cecilia’s abilities than was warranted, because she wasn’t fit. Not for this. There was no reason in the world why she shouldn’t do just as his lordship commanded and leave this cursed castle without a backward glance.
Cecilia rose to her feet, drew herself up to her full height, and peered down the length of her nose at Lord Darlington. She’d meant to preserve a dignified silence as she took her leave, but looking down on him must have loosened her tongue, because suddenly she wasn’t content to scurry away like a coward without saying a word in her own defense. No, if she was to be sent away from Darlington Castle, she was going to meet her fate as bravely as any of her friends would have done.
He’d already dismissed her, so why not have her say?
“Very well, my lord. I see there’s no point in arguing my innocence. The blue ribbons are indeed damning evidence against me.” She raised her chin. “But before I go, allow me to say if I’d judged you on your appearance today, as you’ve done me, I wouldn’t have known you were the Marquess of Darlington.”
Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. He gaped at her, openmouthed. “Explain yourself, Miss Gilchrist.”
“I don’t mean any insult. It’s just that you don’t look terribly…” She waved a hand at him. “Lordly.”
Privately Cecilia knew she would have known him as a nobleman no matter what. All gentlemen of rank had a certain haughtiness, and Lord Darlington more than most, even dressed for the country as he was now, in a dark coat, dark breeches, and a long, flowing cloak swirling around a pair of tall, tight-fitting boots.
He was still an impressive figure of a man, but he wasn’t the graceful aristocrat on the strut in the fashionable buff-colored breeches and navy coat he’d worn that day she’d spied on him in Hyde Park. She’d thought him quite elegant then, whereas now…
His clothing, his hair, his perfectly fitted leather gloves, his expression—all were black. Only the edge of a snowy white shirt peeking from his open cloak and a pair of startlingly blue eyes interrupted this unrelenting sea of gloom. He looked like a fury