Death of a Duchess, Nellie Steele [non fiction books to read .txt] 📗

are correct,” I answered, recalling it now. “After dinner, I read in the sitting room with Robert. I left it there. How careless of me. Thank you, Sinclair.”

“Would you like me to retrieve it for you, Your Grace?”

“No, thank you, Sinclair. I shall retrieve it. Is there anything further on the packing?”

“No, Your Grace. I am finishing up the last pieces now and you shall be all ready!”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Sinclair. If everything is taken care of, I shall be reading in my tower room.”

I left Sinclair finalizing the luggage and traversed the halls to the main foyer. As I descended the stairs, I caught sight of Annie at the sitting room doors. One door stood ajar, and she peered into the room. I reached the foyer floor and began to cross toward her. Before I reached her, she swung around, a pained expression on her face. I opened my mouth to inquire about it when she fled across the foyer, disappearing down the hall.

My gaze followed her, and I wondered about the incident. Should I follow her, I pondered? She moved too quickly for me to catch up, I concluded. I would retrieve my book as planned and hope she sought me out later. I pushed through the open door, searching the seats near the fireplace. There, on one of the side tables, sat my book.

I started across the room toward it when a figure stood from the chair Robert generally filled in the evenings. “Oh!” I exclaimed, startled by his presence. “I am sorry. I did not realize anyone was here.”

He swallowed a mouthful of scotch. “Hello, Duchess,” Edwin answered, acid in his voice.

“Mr. Fletcher,” I responded, my posture stiffening. “I was retrieving my book. I shall only be a moment.” I continued toward the book.

“Oh, please, do not let me stop you!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with sarcasm. “It is, after all, YOUR castle, Duchess.”

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. I snapped them open and focused on Edwin. After a deep breath, I began, “Mr. Fletcher…”

“Oh, please, Duchess!” he said, waving his hand in the air to stop me. “Call me Edwin. We are, after all, family.”

I grew weary of his derision, but I continued. “Edwin,” I began again, “I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Perhaps we should try to begin anew and work toward a better result.”

“Work toward a better result?” he questioned, as though rhetorically. He placed a pondering finger against his chin in a satiric display of reflection. “What a clever idea!” he said at long last. “Clearly it is your brains that prompted my brother to wed you.” He stalked to the drink cart, pouring himself another scotch.

“There is no reason for us to quarrel,” I responded. “I do not wish you any ill tidings.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you! No, you only mean to steal my inheritance.”

“I have nothing to do with that affair,” I informed him.

“Don’t you, Duchess? As it stood, upon Robert’s death, this property would transfer to me. With your recent nuptials, that is now questionable. So, I would estimate it has a great deal to do with you!”

“The property is a matter to be settled between you and Robert. It does not concern me. And I do not concern myself with it. Do not accuse me of causing a problem that is of your own making.”

“Do not deceive me, Duchess. You cannot expect me to believe you do not whisper your plans into my brother’s ear... and you do not use your…” He paused, gazing down at my body before continuing, “virtues to secure the result you desire.”

My jaw dropped open at such a statement. I gathered my thoughts to respond, but a new voice joined the conversation, silencing me. “If you plan to speak to my wife in this manner, Edwin, I will bar you from this property.”

Edwin offered me a wry glance, as though he’d caught me in something. “It seems your plan is working, Duchess. Soon, I shall not even be permitted to visit my family home.”

“That will be of your own doing, Edwin, not hers,” Robert responded. He glanced at me as he approached. “Were you using the room, dear?”

“No,” I answered. “I only came to retrieve my book.” I picked it up off the table.

Robert smiled at me. “Then would you mind leaving us to discuss some business?”

“Not at all,” I replied. Robert kissed my forehead, and I strode away. Before pulling the doors closed, I said, “Good day, Mr. Fletcher.”

His eyes narrowed at me as I pulled the doors shut. I did not linger at the door to overhear the conversation. Instead, I made my way to my tower room. As I settled into the window seat, my mind replayed the conversation with Edwin. I should likely never win him over, I concluded.

I focused on my book when another thought sprung into my brain. What was Annie doing at the door when I descended the stairs? Was she curious? Did she miss Edwin? Perhaps he had been a bigger fan of Robert’s first wife than me.

I set the book down, pondering the questions again. Perhaps if I could find Annie, I could ask her. I rose from my seat and traversed the halls to the other tower room. Remaining outside, I leaned in and called to her. I received no response. I waited a few moments, but she did not appear. I checked a few other areas, including my bedroom suite, however I could not find her. The mystery should have to wait until I returned from Glasgow, I determined as I headed back to my tower room.

Fog still clung to the moors the next morning as we climbed into the carriage for our journey to Glasgow. Romantic or not, Ella’s assessment of the bone-chilling properties of the mist were accurate. I bundled tighter against it before suggesting Ella ride inside the carriage, fearing she may catch cold in the dampness outside. Robert agreed and