The Virgin Who Vindicated Lord Darlington - Anna Bradley Page 0,3

won’t do, Molly.” Cecilia bent to grasp the handle of her case, then straightened and met Molly’s eyes. “I’ve already accepted the post. Mrs. Briggs, Lord Darlington’s housekeeper, is expecting me.”

It was too late to turn back now. Lady Clifford had gone to a good deal of trouble to see this thing arranged, and in any case, Cecilia’s business was with Lord Darlington’s servants. If his lordship had any secrets to hide, his servants would know them. Her task was to shake those secrets loose, then return to London without ever crossing paths with Lord Darlington at all.

Molly didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. “All right, then. My father won’t set foot on Darlington Castle’s grounds, but we’ll take ye as far as we can in the wagon.”

“Thank you.” Cecilia reached for Molly’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

Molly shook her head. “I hope ye don’t live to regret it, Miss Cecilia.”

What an unfortunate choice of words.

Cecilia hoped she did live to regret it, but she didn’t give voice to the insidious whisper inside her head. Instead she followed Molly across the street toward the knot of wagons and carts, dragging her case along behind her.

* * * *

Dusk came upon them quickly, as it tended to do during wintertime in England, but there was enough light for Cecilia to make out Darlington Castle in all its distressing, blood-curdling glory.

God in Heaven. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but if any stray phantoms or wraiths did happen to be floating about in the February mists, this was the castle they’d choose to haunt.

“Grim old pile, innit it?” Molly, who was seated on the far side of the wagon, leaned across Cecilia to get a better look.

“Grim enough. The portcullis looks as if it might eat one alive.” Cecilia gaped at the monstrosity sprawled out before her, and a shiver darted down her spine. She wished with all her heart she was exaggerating, but that portcullis looked like nothing so much as a set of gaping jaws, the pointed iron teeth lined up in a row across the bottom of the latticed grill. If looked as if it were just waiting to snap closed on anyone foolish enough to venture beneath it.

If the first portcullis didn’t sever limb from body, the second one surely would, because if the blackened stone and shadowy courtyard beyond that gaping maw weren’t sinister enough, Darlington Castle had a double portcullis.

A double moat, as well.

The Marquess of Darlington was not, it seemed, the trusting sort, but then if the rumors about him were true, he had a great deal to hide.

“How deep is the moat, do you suppose?” Cecilia fought to suppress another shudder as her gaze fell on the dark, sluggish water under the drawbridge. God only knew what nightmares were lurking in those dreary depths.

Deep enough to hide a body? The Marchioness of Darlington’s body, for instance?

“Not more than a fathom,” said Mr. Hinshaw, Molly’s father.

Only a fathom? That wasn’t so very deep. Certainly not deep enough to hide a—

“Darlington Lake is said to be much deeper,” he added, before Cecilia had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief. “But I couldn’t tell ye how deep.”

There was a lake, as well? How many bodies of water did one marquess need?

One for every wife he murders.

Cecilia swallowed, cursing her penchant for gothic horror novels, which had been all very well until she’d stumbled into one.

Molly covered Cecilia’s hand with hers. “It’s not too late to change yer mind.”

Cecilia cast one last fearful look at the wide, yawning jaws guarding the cavernous courtyard beyond, straightened her shoulders, and, with a bravado she was far from feeling, stuck her chin in the air. “No, no. I’ve given my word, and I won’t turn coward now.”

Mr. Hinshaw and Molly glanced at each other, but Mr. Hinshaw came down from his seat, retrieved Cecilia’s case from the back of the wagon, and reached up to help her down. “We’ll wait until you’re inside. If ye do change your mind beforehand—”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Hinshaw, but please don’t wait on my account.” Cecilia could see the man wished himself and his daughter far away from here, and in any case, she might lose her nerve and flee Darlington Castle if she knew she had such a ready escape.

She took the hand Mr. Hinshaw offered before she could change her mind, leaving the safety of the wagon behind, and paused at the long stone bridge leading onto Lord