An Affair So Right (Rebel Hearts #4)(19)
“Did he?” More tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Indeed.” Once inside, and in private, he revealed the gems to her on his palm. “It seems Mr. Dalton did not leave you without means after all.”
Mrs. Dalton poked at the gems without any real interest. “My necklace? He was supposed to have the clasp fixed for me. How did you come to have them?”
Quinn winced. “I’m told your husband was wearing them when he died.”
Mrs. Dalton sobbed at that and pushed his hand away. “I don’t want them!”
“But they are yours to keep. Madam, nothing is beyond your reach now.”
“All I want is Millard returned to me.” She backed away. “Keep them. I couldn’t bear to wear them again.”
She turned and dashed for the staircase.
“Mrs. Dalton!” Quinn called after her.
She kept going without looking back at him once. He heard her sobs and winced. “Madam, please. I’m so sorry. I had no choice but to tell you.”
Mrs. Dalton waved a hand just before she disappeared out of sight.
Damn. He should have waited to tell Mrs. Dalton about the stones, but how could he allow her to continue to think herself destitute? That would be heartless. He couldn’t have not informed her. The stones were hers by rights, and valuable.
Perhaps he should have told Miss Dalton first, instead, and allowed her to break the news more gently.
He followed Mrs. Dalton upstairs, intending to speak with her daughter next. The doors to his guest bedchambers were closed, as expected, and as he poised outside the first door, Theodora’s, he heard the woman’s heartbreaking sobs inside.
Determined not to further upset the women, he retreated to his bedchamber and the cold hearth next to his bed. He knelt, stretched his hand up inside the chimney, and removed a steel box from within. He pried the lid open and, since it was empty, dropped the stones inside and hid it again. The stones would remain there until Mrs. Dalton asked for their return. He would allow her time to grieve before broaching the subject again.
Chapter 8
“If you don’t mind me saying, Miss Dalton, his lordship has maids who dust and clean for him,” Mr. Rodmell, Lord Maitland’s valet, remarked at Theodora’s feet.
Theodora shrieked, dropped the cloth she was holding and struggled to keep her balance on the chair. The large landscape she’d been peeking behind crashed back against the wall. “Rodmell! Don’t do that.”
“My apologies, but you still should not have been moving the paintings. That is a maid’s job.”
“Clearly they have missed this spot for some time. I found cobwebs here, and now that I know for certain that there are no spiders behind it, I can breathe easily again,” she said, shuddering.
Rodmell appeared less than impressed with her suggestion that there could be unwanted beasties in the library and took the cloth from her hand. “Mr. Layton had no complaints about the room.”
“Lord Maitland’s last secretary may have had no complaints about his books, but probably never lifted his eyes to the corners of the room. He’s been gone for months. The study requires a thorough dusting.” She wiped her gloved fingers down the picture frame and showed Rodmell proof of the dust.
“I’ll have a word with Mrs. Burrows for you and have it attended to,” he said quickly, and then sneezed.
“I would appreciate that.” Theodora wasn’t usually so picky about her surroundings, but wearing mourning colors revealed so much about a home. She already had a dusty hemline and a never-ending urge to rub her nose. The more time she spent in this room alone, the more irritated she was by the inattention to cleaning it. Rodmell helped her down to stand beside him. “What I was really doing before being distracted was looking for some clue as to the location of this charming scene.”
“It is of the Duke of Rutherford’s family seat at Newberry Park in Essex.”
Lord Maitland’s family had a similarly named mansion in the heart of Mayfair—some twenty minutes ride distant from Maitland House. Newberry House was said to be very elegant and quite large. Quinn’s parents, the Earl and Countess Templeton, lived there with the Duke of Rutherford’s blessing along with other members of the family when they came to London.
“Ah, I see. A pretty spot indeed.” Theodora had heard much of the country estate too from a maid who’d grown up there, and she’d discovered a great many landscapes for the area spread around Lord Maitland’s home while she’d been waiting to speak to him. She had thought they may have been of the same location, but hadn’t been sure until now. She pointed across the room. “And who is the merry young woman in that small portrait over there by the fire?”
Rodmell sighed softly. “That is, was, Lady Mary Ford. The master’s younger sister.”
Theodora moved closer. Yes, perhaps there was a similarity she could see around the eyes. She’d heard mention of Louisa, Sally, and two brothers already from the chattering new maid Lord Maitland had seen assigned to her. “What happened to her?”
“It is not my place to speak of the dead,” Rodmell said after a long moment of silence.
Theodora whipped around quickly to stare. Rodmell had been more or less an open book until now, speaking expansively of every member of the Ford family with great pride and fondness—except for this one girl. That he would not say very much was telling. It must have been a tragedy that stole her life away.