A Bride by Moonlight by Liz Carlyle Page B

forthcoming, went on. “In any case, the manor passed down to you upon your grandmother’s death ten years ago, since your mother and sister predeceased you,” he said. “As I explained to your father’s sister, Mrs. Ashton, it was the one inheritance your maternal grandfather did not control because your grandmother’s marriage settlements provided—”
    “Yes, thank you,” she interjected. “I comprehend marriage settlements. But you . . . you mean to say you wrote to America—to Aunt Ashton—of this inheritance?”
    His confusion returned. “Why, I would have been remiss in my duties to your late mother’s family, Lisette, had I not,” he said. “Until this morning, I thought you knew.”
    Elizabeth looked at him blankly. “And what did Aunt Ashton say?”
    “That I should sell it,” he said acerbically, “and send the money to you—well, to Mr. Ashton, really—in Boston. But I flatly refused to do it until you’d reached your majority, and given me your personal instruction. I heard no more, and simply let the rents accumulate, pittance though they are.”
    Elizabeth waved her hand as if it didn’t matter, but she was suddenly, and very deeply, grateful to Bodkins. “Thank you,” she said more gently. “Thank you for looking after me, Bodkins. You have been, I think, my only friend in England. Now tell me, where is the manor located?”
    “Well, why, it is in Caithness.”
    “Caithness?” Her eyebrows drew together. “And where is that?”
    “Scotland, miss.”
    “Ah, far from London, then,” she murmured. “Excellent.”
    “The North of Scotland, my dear.” Bodkins was looking alarmed again. “Indeed, the very, very tip of the wretched place.”
    “Come now!” Elizabeth forced a smile. “How wretched can it be?”
    “My dear girl, they don’t even have roads that far!”
    “Oh, Bodkins, do not be ridiculous! There are roads everywhere nowadays—trains, too, almost.”
    “Lisette, my dear, I fear you’ve been too long in the colonies.”
    “The United States, Bodkins,” she reminded him dryly. “I believe they’ve not been colonies for quite some decades. And no, they actually don’t have roads everywhere. Indeed, most of it is an uncivilized hell. But Scotland—why, that is still a part of Britain, unless some vast change has occurred since I left my little schoolroom in London.”
    “Yes, yes, to be sure,” he said. “But you can practically see the Orkneys from Caithness, ma’am. And no, they do not have roads .”
    But Elizabeth was in deep thought now. The North of Scotland did indeed sound grim. But what was the alternative? Having put herself in this wretched position, she could expect no one save herself to drag her out of it. She had to get away from Lazonby’s ultimate vengeance—which she fully deserved—and Napier’s more immediate investigation.
    Perhaps she deserved that, too. Perhaps she should just give herself up. Explain everything. But how to explain what one scarcely understood? What in God’s name had happened to her? Elizabeth turned her head, and fought the urge to burst into tears.
    Damn it, she did not cry.
    And yet her heart felt like one of those hot-air balloons, once magnificently swelled with the fire of righteous indignation, now left limp and directionless. She had reached lofty, almost giddy heights in her search for revenge, her wings borne high by her hatred of Lord Lazonby. And now she had fallen to the earth, and to the crushing reality of her own mistakes.
    Her own madness, perhaps.
    Perhaps that was the awful cold she felt; insanity creeping into the crevices of her soul.
    Oh, she had to escape it all! “How long will it take to get there, Bodkins?”
    “Weeks!” he said stridently. “If you can get there from here. Which I do sincerely doubt. Moreover, the house itself has been uninhabited for years. Consider what it must look like. Consider the weather. Truly, my dear, it is out of the question.”
    “But