“It’s possible, but it seems more likely that the situation would be reversed—Lady Dover would’ve been the one motivated to kill in order to keep her past a secret,” Kendra countered. “How long has Lady Dover been a Countess? Lady Rebecca once told me that she’d been a widow for five years.”
“I’m not certain,” admitted Aldridge. “We shall have to ask Alec.”
“You said the crime was personal, Miss. If Lady Dover left a beau behind when she bettered herself by marrying the Earl . . . well, that’s personal. Mighta made someone angry.”
“It’s a long time to be angry, if it was somebody from her past. There had to have been a recent trigger.”
“England’s a big place, Miss. Maybe the bloke she’d left behind only just saw her,” Sam suggested.
He had a point. Kendra recalled how Molly had never been outside Aldridge Village until now. Granted, the tweeny was only fifteen, but Kendra imagined that her situation was the norm for a great percentage of the country’s population, especially for those in the lower socioeconomic levels. Their mobility was probably limited to a five-mile radius of the town in which they’d been born.
Unless a person was like Lady Dover and saw opportunity in London, a place teeming with immigrants and outsiders, where she, with her beauty, might reinvent herself.
“There’s something else to consider,” she said as they approached the front steps of the Duke’s mansion. “Lord Dover is the one casting suspicion on his stepmother’s background. And I don’t think he’s one of her admirers.”
“No love lost betwixt them,” agreed Sam. “I’ll be going ter his club this afternoon ter check out his alibi.” He paused, giving Kendra a shrewd look. “He didn’t seem ter know about the babe, though.”
“Or he’s a good liar.”
“Aye, there’s that. No shortage of those in Town.”
Kendra said, “He seems to care a lot about his family’s good name. If he found out that his stepmother was pregnant, I doubt he would’ve been fine with it. Considering her husband’s been dead for five years, Lady Dover’s pregnancy is either a hell of a miracle or a major scandal.”
Sam laughed. “Ain’t no miracle, I can tell you that.”
“Right. Major scandal, it is. And by a mushroom. What exactly is a mushroom, anyway?”
Aldridge was the one who answered. “’Tis slang for a social climber. Like a fungus that appears overnight, a person who appears suddenly in society’s upper circles.”
It occurred to Kendra that she’d be considered a mushroom. As far as anyone knew, she’d begun her life as a servant at Aldridge Castle before Lady Rebecca had hired her as her companion. Now she was the Duke’s ward.
Hell, she was a mushroom on steroids.
In the foyer, Harding was supervising two footmen who were carrying an enormous rectangular object wrapped in burlap and blankets up the staircase.
“Your slate board has arrived, sir,” the butler informed them. “Lord Sutcliffe departed for his own residence ten minutes ago. And Lady Atwood is in the morning room, with a lady’s maid—Watch it!” He had snapped at one of the footmen, as the man nearly tripped and the slate board teetered precariously.
Kendra glanced at the Duke. “Lady Dover’s maid. She’s early.”
They found Lady Atwood seated opposite a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, her dark hair swept into a neat coil. She was a stranger, but Kendra had the oddest sense of recognition. Déjà vu. It took her a moment to understand why. The woman was wearing a dark eggplant-hued gown, similar to the one Kendra had donned to disguise herself as a lady’s maid to attend the fancy dress ball at Aldridge Castle.
A month ago—and two hundred years in the future.
She pushed aside the disconcerting feeling as she strode briskly into the room. “Miss Marat. I’m Kendra Donovan,” she introduced herself. “We didn’t expect you un—”
“Ah, Miss—” Sam began.
“You are mistaken, Miss Donovan,” Lady Atwood cut in coolly. “This is Eva Cooper. The agency sent her—she will be your new lady’s maid. Miss Cooper, this is Miss Donovan, who you shall be required to assist. And my brother, the Duke of Aldridge.” She flicked a look at Sam, but didn’t introduce him.
The woman rose and dropped into a deep, graceful curtsy. “Your Grace. I am eager to begin my services in your household,” she intoned with a smile. The smile, Kendra thought, curled a little with condescension when Miss Cooper turned to look in her direction. She could only imagine what Lady Atwood had been telling the woman.
“Miss Donovan, I shall endeavor to guide you in the proper etiquette.”
Kendra’s jaw clenched at the schoolmarm tone, and the way Miss Cooper’s eyebrows arched as she exchanged a knowing glance with the Countess.
“Thanks,” she replied, “but I’m old enough to guide myself.”
“Miss Cooper comes with exceptional credentials,” Lady Atwood put in smoothly, and gave the servant an encouraging smile. “You are fortunate to have someone of Miss Cooper’s character assisting you, Miss Donovan.”
“I am certain Miss Cooper shall be an excellent addition to the household,” the Duke said hurriedly, no doubt recognizing the combative gleam in the eyes of both Kendra and his sister. “As usual, my dear, you have everything well in hand.”
“Thank you, Bertie.” Lady Atwood regarded Kendra. “First, Miss Cooper shall settle into her bedchamber. Then she will assist you in dressing for our morning call to Lady St. James.”
“Very good.” The Duke nodded before Kendra could say anything. “That ought to give us time to collect our thoughts in the study before Miss Marat arrives. Come, my dear.” He reached for Kendra’s arm to usher her out of the morning room. “Mr. Kelly, if you will follow me.”
“I don’t need a lady’s maid, or lessons in etiquette,” Kendra all but exploded as soon as they were out in the hall.
The Duke hesitated, then said lightly, “Your American customs are different than our English ones, Miss Donovan. It might benefit you to have a lady’s maid who would help guide you.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the difference in countries. Still, she shook her head. “You know that she’ll be reporting everything I say or do back to Lady Atwood. I’ll be under a microscope.” Again, she thought. It gave her the creeps.
Aldridge and Sam both wore the carefully blank expression that men sometimes donned when they didn’t want to get involved in a conflict between two women. It only added to Kendra’s irritation.
“And why do I need to change my clothes again? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” she complained as they ascended the stairs. “Christ, she acts like we’ve got an appointment with the Queen.”