Fall From Lace by Emily Claire

Author:Emily Claire [Claire, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emerald Ink Enterprises
Published: 2021-02-10T16:00:00+00:00

17

“Miss Shrewsbury!” he exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her. “Are you all right?”

“Heavens, I’m sorry.” Lydia flushed and caught her balance. “I wasn’t at all looking where I was going. Are you all right?”

“Perfectly,” he said. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

She gestured back toward the basket. “My mother sent me on parish business to the poor invalid.”

Behind her, Mr. Pemberton let out a noise that was something like a snort.

“How kind of her. I’m glad I ran into you—or you into me, rather.” He smiled, the expression reaching all the way to his bright blue eyes. “Miss Wycliffe and Miss Diana have gone into town to buy new music. They planned to call at the vicarage on their way to see if you were inclined to join them. As you are already here, perhaps we might walk into town together?”

“Of course,” Lydia said. “Are you staying at Hollybrook House now?”

He chuckled, color rising to his cheeks. “No, indeed, although I wouldn’t turn down the invitation. I came to join the ladies at breakfast. After yesterday’s incident, Diana expressed that she would feel better if I were to accompany her at meals.”

“Are you capable of defending the lady from poisons?” Mr. Pemberton asked from the morning room.

“I do not have that skill, I’m afraid.” Mr. Buxton chuckled. “Miss Diana knows as much, but if my presence can aid in comforting her, I would hardly be a gentleman if I did not supply it.”

Of course, Mr. Buxton’s willingness to hurry to Hollybrook House at all hours of the day was merely out of duty. Lydia pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.

“Did you not join the ladies on their walk?” she asked.

“Sir Charles pulled me into conversation about some scheme to purchase a Spanish vineyard,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I promised the ladies I’d catch up. I stopped in here only to collect the scarf I left behind yesterday.”

He stepped around Lydia. Mr. Pemberton was already holding up the scarf, which had been resting on the arm of a nearby chair. Mr. Buxton thanked him and wound the knitted cherry-red material around his neck. Lydia recognized the wool; Diana had been working with it not a month past.

After the violence of the past fortnight, the once-cheerful color wrapped around his throat now seemed like a grim reminder of blood.

She shuddered. It did seem significant that both murder victims so far had been young, handsome, eligible men. The urge to reach for Mr. Buxton, to protect him, overwhelmed her, and she clasped her hands together to avoid giving in to it.

Lydia bid Mr. Pemberton farewell again and followed Mr. Buxton to the front hall. Mr. Cooper was nowhere to be seen, but Mr. Buxton helped her with her pelisse and held her bonnet as she did up the buttons on the coat. She tied the dove-colored ribbons firmly under her chin and accepted his arm.

The morning had warmed, though not by much, and Lydia shivered at the first breeze that hit her outside.

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