a new life.
She thought over the almost two years she had been married to Tinmore.
He’d done what she wanted most. To provide for her sisters and brother. He’d also given her a home, beautiful clothes, jewels, a comfortable life in so many ways. She’d been grateful to him for that. She never complained about him for that reason. Except maybe that little bit in the carriage when she’d spoken to Dell. That had not been complaining, really. How awful it would be to complain about Tinmore when he’d been the rescue of her family.
After a fashion.
She could say with absolute sincerity that had she not married Tinmore, her sisters and half-brother would not have found their spouses.
What’s more, they’d found love.
Lorene asked very little for herself, only that Tinmore provide her with the means to live in simple comfort after he was gone. She had no idea if he had done so.
Even if not, the jewellery he’d given her would be worth something, she figured. Tomorrow she would make certain she had it safely in her possession. Filkins would help her. Who knew what the servants might do, with their loyalty to Tinmore and resentment of her.
She did not know where she would go or how she would live, but, even so, wretched woman that she was, she would be glad to leave this place.
She left the window seat, found a shawl to wrap over her shoulders and slippers for her feet. Carrying a candle, she made her way to the formal drawing room Tinmore called the Mount Olympus room, because of the murals of Greek gods and goddesses painted by Verrio and commissioned by some earlier Earl of Tinmore.
Placing the candle on the opulent gold gilt pianoforte Tinmore bought for her, she pulled out her favourite music, Mozart’s Quintets in G Minor, and began to play.
Someone had sent her the music after a musicale last Season. She did not know who. Not her husband, though. He’d fallen asleep during music so wonderful, Lorene felt its indelible stamp on her soul.
She played at a slow tempo, appropriately mournful, but the chords she thought of as sword thrusts, piercing what otherwise would have been a typical minuet, perfectly reflected the pangs of anger she felt towards Tinmore for accusing her of infidelity, for involving Dell in his death, for all the times Tinmore had been thoughtless and hurtful.
The music filled the room and it seemed as if the murals of Greek gods and goddesses were watching her and absorbing the music. If her playing could be heard outside the room, she did not care.
She needed the solace only music could bring her.
Lorene played the pianoforte for at least two hours before returning to her bedchamber. She slept fitfully and awoke before dawn. By then it was no use trying to go back to sleep. She sat on the window seat and waited until it was a decent time to ring for her maid, who was even more grim than usual. Lorene could not tell if it was because the woman was grieving or because she’d been roused earlier than usual.
After Lorene finished dressing and was making her way down the stairs, she heard voices in the hall. Several voices.
If this was the magistrate, surely it was too early an hour for him to call! She rushed to the landing and leaned over the bannister for a view of the hall.
Her sisters had come! Tess and Genna were here with their husbands.
She quickened her step.
Her sister Genna saw her first and ran up the stairs to give her a hug. Tess soon caught up.
‘Oh, Lorene!’ Genna cried.
Tess put her arms around both of them. ‘How do you fare, Lorene? Are you all right?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ Lorene replied, her tears flowing again at the sight of them. ‘But you shouldn’t have come, Tess. Shouldn’t you be resting?’
‘I’m not ill,’ Tess countered. ‘I am merely going to have a baby.’
Tess’s Christmas present to all of them was this happy announcement, but now it seemed long ago that Tess told them this news, even though it had only been the previous day.
The sisters descended the rest of the staircase, arm in arm.
‘Lorene,’ Genna’s husband, the Marquess of Rossdale, strode over to her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We are at your beck and call. Whatever you need, you must tell us.’
Just for them to be here was more than enough.
Tess’s husband, Marc Glenville, also approached her. ‘Our condolences, Lorene.’
Condolences was not the right word, though.
‘Where is Dell?’ Rossdale asked. He and Dell had been close friends since they were boys.
Lorene shook her head. ‘I do not know.’ She turned to Dixon. ‘Where is the Earl, Dixon?’
‘In the east wing.’ The butler’s words were clipped.
The lesser guest rooms.
‘Send for him, man,’ Rossdale ordered. ‘Tell him we are here.’
‘Where shall you await the Earl?’ Dixon asked haughtily.
Lorene answered him. ‘In the morning room.’ She turned to her sisters. ‘Did you eat?’
‘Eat?’ cried Genna. ‘As if we could eat after hearing what happened.’
Lorene turned back to Dixon. ‘Alert Cook, then, Dixon. We have guests for breakfast.’
Dixon bowed.
‘Tell us what happened,’ Tess said as they walked to the morning room.
‘I did not see,’ Lorene answered. ‘Tinmore fell down the stone steps there where you came in.’
‘On those steps?’ Genna broke in. ‘What was he doing outside?’
‘He was angry.’ Lorene’s head was pounding with the memory. ‘Dell tried to speak to him, but there was no reasoning with him.’
‘I’ll bet he was angry that you came to see us yesterday,’ Genna said. ‘I can just see him in high dudgeon over that. His wife defied him. Imagine that.’
‘He was angry over that,’ Lorene snapped. ‘My defiance possibly killed him, if you must know.’
Genna touched her arm. ‘Forgive me, Lorene. My tongue ran away with me again.’
They entered the morning room, brightly lit with the morning sun. The many windows of the room revealed clear blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds. The bright sun glistened on the snow-covered ground.
Lorene spoke to the footman attending the room. ‘We have more guests for breakfast, Travers. Would you please bring us tea and coffee?’
The footman bowed and left the room. Rossdale and Glenville pulled up additional chairs and helped the ladies to sit.
When they were settled, Rossdale asked, ‘Dell’s coachman told us the magistrate would be sent for. For what reason?’
‘Dixon—the butler who was in the hall—believes Dell pushed Tinmore, but Dell didn’t.’ Dell was too honourable to do such a thing, Lorene was certain.
Rossdale frowned and exchanged a look with Glenville. ‘It is good we came.’
What could they do, though, if the magistrate believed Dixon and not Dell?
‘What’s more, we are not leaving you alone here,’ Genna added.
During Lorene’s marriage, Genna had been with her the longest and knew best what it was like to live at Tinmore Hall, where they were always treated as intruders.