A Fiery Escort for the Roguish Marquess by Scarlett Osborne

Author:Scarlett Osborne [Osborne, Scarlett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

Ernest awoke to the sound of rain hammering the roof. He climbed out of bed and pushed aside the thick damask curtains. The day was colorless, the cloud bank thick. Streams of rain flooded over the glass, blurring his view of the garden.

He peered across the grounds to the burial plot. The headstones were tiny grey specks in the distance.

Today he would speak to the vicar. Today he would find out whether or not his sister truly lay beneath that flower-drenched headstone.

After breakfast, he took the coach to the church. Though his restless legs were craving a walk, he knew his questions were bound to raise the vicar’s eyebrows. No doubt it wouldn’t help the situation if he stumbled into the church looking like something that had been fished out of the river.

He climbed from the coach and hurried through the rain, heaving open the church door.

Inside, the hollering of street vendors and the clattering of hooves became muffled. The city felt distant. Rain drummed against the roof, echoing around the cavernous space. Long shadows lay over the church.

Ernest made his way to the vestry. There was no sun to push through the windows today, he noticed. The colors of the stained glass were muted and dull.

He knocked on the door of the vestry, smiling faintly at the sight of Reverend Williamson.

“Ah, Lord Dalton,” the vicar smiled. “I was told I could expect you this morning.”

The vicar’s warm smile eased the thumping in Ernest’s chest a little. He had grown up listening to Reverend Williamson preach, and at the sight of him, he felt suddenly like a child again.

What an easier time that had been. A far simpler, easier time.

Back then, he’d been content to live the life his father had set out for him. Back then, his sister had been silent and still in her grave.

“Thank you for seeing me, Reverend.”

“Of course.” The vicar frowned. He stepped from the vestry and gestured to Ernest to take a seat in one of the pews. “You look troubled, My Lord. Has something happened?”

Ernest drew in his breath. “I need your honesty.” He hesitated. “And your secrecy.”

The vicar raised his eyebrows. After a moment, he nodded to Ernest to continue.

“My sister, Unity,” he began. “Do you remember her?”

The vicar looked at his hands. “Of course.” His voice was suddenly low and hesitant. Their housekeeper, Mrs. Graham had done the same thing at the mention of Unity, Ernest realized. As had Phillips, the groom.

Why does the mention of my sister fill everyone that knew her with such trepidation?

“I have some questions about her,” said Ernest.

The vicar turned to look at him. “My Lord, I feel I must warn you. Whatever questions you might have about your sister are best left unanswered. Believe me.” He fixed Ernest with hard, knowing eyes.

Ernest stared back. “Why?” he pressed.

The vicar sighed. “Losing your sister was terribly difficult for your mother. She has never been the same since.”

Ernest’s jaw tightened. Losing Unity definitely changed his mother. But

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