He was hoping you’d come to him, trust him enough to tell him the truth.
Kendra recalled Alec’s words, and felt the same stirring of dismay, guilt, and defiance that she had then. The last time she’d truly trusted anyone was when she’d told her parents that she wanted a say in her own future. And look at how well that had turned out. They hadn’t even argued with her. They’d simply abandoned her.
She thought of the Duke’s gentle blue-gray eyes. He wouldn’t abandon her, she knew. But he might help her all the way into an insane asylum.
“Miss?”
“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m a little distracted.”
“You seem a bit blue-deviled—” Rose broke off when the door flew open and Molly came running in. The tweeny was flushed, her eyes bright as she came to a halt, clutching the door.
“Lud! W’otever are you doin’, Molly Danvers?” Rose exclaimed. “I could’ve skewed miss ’ere with the ’airpins if I ’and’t been done!”
“Where’s the fire, Molly?” Kendra echoed.
Molly’s face went blank in confusion. “Oi dunno anythin’ about a fire . . . but ’is Grace asked me to fetch ye!”
Kendra went still. Alec must have told the Duke about her deception, and Aldridge had finally decided to put an end to the charade. What, she wondered, could she possibly tell him?
“All right.” She stood up slowly, and wiped her suddenly clammy palms on her skirt. “I’ll meet the Duke in his study. I just need a moment—”
“Nay. Not the study, miss. The woods. That’s where the Lady is.” Molly’s eyes were wide as she gave an exaggerated shiver. “She’s dead, miss! Dead in a most ’orrible way!”
The woman was most definitely dead; Molly had been right about that. And how the woman had gotten into that state had indeed been horrible. She lay sprawled, faceup, eyes open, across one of the narrow paths, just inside the cool dappled green of the forest. A handful of men dressed in rough tweeds stood five steps away, staring down at the body. As Kendra approached with Alec and the Duke of Aldridge, the men doffed their hats—a courtesy that Kendra wasn’t entirely sure was directed at her, or at the men.
“Did anyone touch anything? Move her?” Kendra demanded sharply, as she hurried to squat down beside the victim. This close, the grisly scent of death blended with the loamy earth odors. In a few hours, once temperatures climbed and morning slid into afternoon, she knew from experience that the smell would have reached her from at least a yard away. The body was relatively fresh.
The boy who’d reported the body and ushered them to the area answered. “Aye, well, me pa and Mr. Black over there, they turned ’er over, ma’am.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as his eyes were drawn back to the dead woman. “We didn’t know she’d stuck ’er spoon in the wall until then. Me pa told me to fetch ’elp.”
“We thought she mighta been bosky, and fell down and ’urt ‘erself,” one of the older men offered. “We ’ad Martin ’urry ter the castle to tell ye, Yer Grace.”
“You didn’t carry her here?”
“Nay, miss.”
Kendra frowned as she scanned the body. The woman appeared to be in her early to mid-thirties. Her head was tilted to the side, her face—it had been very pretty at one time—now mottled and marred with nasty scratches, dirt, and dried blood. Her eyes were blue, cloudy with the milky film associated with corneal opacity after death. The sunlight streaming through the canopy of oak leaves touched the hair tangled around her face, turning it into a nimbus of gold. She was wearing a long wool coat, flung open to reveal the brown silk inner lining and gown that had been candy-pink. The lower skirt was torn and soiled, and from the hips to the edge of the bodice, the fabric was stiff, stained nearly black with dried blood.
Absently, Kendra swatted at the flies buzzing around and crawling across the corpse. The blowflies had already begun their cycle of life and death, dropping their eggs to produce the maggots that fed on the decaying flesh. “She wasn’t killed here. Looks like she was stabbed in the torso, near the heart, but there’s no blood on the ground. She bled out somewhere else. She also appears to be missing a shoe. Anyone find a shoe?”
There was a chorus of negatives.
“I need to make notes, look around the area before we move the body,” Kendra said, looking at the Duke. Perhaps it was because he was a scientist and understood the importance of documentation that he nodded.
He turned to the kid. “Martin, is it? Go and fetch Miss Donovan foolscap and writing implements from the castle.”
“A tweezers and magnifying glass would also be helpful,” she added.
Martin glanced at the Duke, who nodded his permission. The boy sprinted off.