A Bride's Guide to Marriage and Murder by Dianne Freeman

Author:Dianne Freeman [Freeman, Dianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2022-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It may have been the longest day of my life. I felt as though I had pried into the personal secrets of far too many people—Graham, Willa, Madeline, Connor himself, and worst of all, my mother. It didn’t matter that all the details were freely given, I felt like a voyeur, though that may have been the result of Mrs. Hodges’s “at home.” What I needed was a long soak in a tub. Those women were worse than the reporters who wrote the scandal sheets.

It was comforting to be home at last. I’d taken Mother to Aunt Hetty’s door, stayed long enough to learn that Alonzo was indeed safely back, then escaped as quickly as possible to my own home, where Jarvis greeted me and took my coat. I asked him to send Bridget up to me, then made for the peace and quiet of my dressing room-cum-boudoir, sinking gratefully into the slipper chair at the dressing table. The late afternoon sun shone through the ornamental window high in the wall, making dancing patterns on the wood floor as I bent to loosen the laces of my boots.

I’d found this room by accident this morning. I’d assumed it was a typical dressing room, with cabinets and drawers to store clothing and barely enough room to change. Little did I know, George had broken through the wall to the room next door, then divided it up into a dressing room, a small sitting area where I could share tea with friends or read a book, and as the pièce de résistance—a bath. The dressing room that was original to the house was on the other side of the master’s chambers and designed for George’s use. That one was essentially cabinets and drawers and George said it suited his purposes.

With a soft knock, Bridget pushed through the door from the hall and stepped inside. “Are you ready to dress for dinner, my lady?”

“Dinner? I’d hoped for a bath, or at least to put on a dressing gown and read for a while first. Isn’t it too early for dinner?”

Her usually pleasant features transformed into a mask of disapproval. “If you’re asking my opinion, I’d say yes. But Mr. Jarvis informed me that dinner would be served at six and Mr. Hazelton usually enjoys a glass of madeira or some such an hour before.” She bobbed her head on the last word for emphasis.

With a groan, I kicked off my boots and stood to allow her to unfasten my gown. “I’ll have to speak with Hazelton about this schedule. If we eat at six, when does the staff eat—five? That seems rather early.”

“Mr. Jarvis agrees with you on that point, ma’am.” Bridget helped me out of my bodice and shook it out. “We don’t eat until half past seven.”

Though her expression remained neutral, she somehow managed to make half past seven sound terribly inconvenient.

“I take it that’s late?”

“It’s quite late, ma’am, for most of the staff. The butler, the valet, and I

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