A Deal with the Devil by Liz Carlyle

Author:Liz Carlyle [Liz Carlyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Star Books
Published: 2004-04-06T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

In Which Mrs. Montford Asks a Favor.

“What did Ida mean, Mama, when she said the Crowner was a cross-eyed old fool?” asked Iain the following evening. He was playing with his cricket bat by the hearth.

Aubrey paused in her pacing before the windows. “It is pronounced coroner,” she corrected, turning to smile at him. “Ida was just speaking cant.”

“What’s cant?”

“Well, it is a sort of jargon, love,” Aubrey answered. “And she ought not have said it at all. He was a very nice gentleman.”

“Well, what does a cor-oh-ner do, anyways?” asked Iain, swinging a practice stroke.

“Any way,” corrected Aubrey, ruffling his hair with her fingers. “Really, Iain. You have been spending too much time around Ida. And a coroner is the gentleman who conducts an inquest, a sort of meeting, when it is not clear how someone has died.”

Iain propped his bat by the hearth. “Was he nice to you? Did he ask you questions?”

“Yes, love, on both counts.”

Aubrey drew back her draperies and peered into the inky depths of the bailey. A pair of flambeaux flanking the gate shed the only light. The days were growing shorter. Colder, too. Already, she could hear the wind whistling past the castle walls, as if December were just around the corner. She almost wished it was. Surely by December, the Earl of Walrafen would be comfortably ensconced in London again?

She let the drapery drop and set a hand to her stomach. She felt a little ill, as she’d done all day. The inquest had shaken her. The eyes of so many had been fixed upon her.

She’d told the truth, of course. Oh, perhaps not the full truth. The coroner had not been very clever in his questions, while she had been very clever indeed with her answers. And now that that trial was past, another was almost upon her. She had not forgotten her promise to Lord Walrafen.

“Can we play a game tonight?” asked Iain from the hearth.

Aubrey spun around. “Yes, of course,” she said, grateful for the distraction. “Why don’t I fix the chocolate whilst you choose one?”

Iain’s face lit up. “Virtue and Vice,” he said, darting toward his room.

Aubrey suppressed a sardonic laugh. Iain would have to choose that one, tonight of all nights, wouldn’t he? She herself was about to engage in vice, while she’d spent the better part of the day trying to paint it—at least in her own mind—as virtue.

While she finished preparing the chocolate, Iain pushed their little gate-legged table to the fire and set up the board. Aubrey was just putting down his mug, however, when someone knocked softly at her door. She felt almost faint when Lord Walrafen stepped inside.

Somehow, she closed the distance between them. “My lord,” she said a little breathlessly. “It is but half past seven.”

But Lord Walrafen seemed to have something other than their assignation on his mind. Indeed, he looked vaguely self-conscious. “Yes, well, it is very cold in my study,” he said. “I had quite forgotten how strong that wind off the channel can get.

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