Secrets in Mourning by Janelle Daniels Page A

Why don’t you do it? It’s the last one and the people seem so happy to see you.” The compliment rang false. It was a desperate attempt to sway him and they both knew it.
    “Why are you so afraid of this?”
    The words were kind, and his question was filled with honest curiosity, but it made something inside her snap back into shape.
    She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. At least she wasn’t supposed to look that way.
    The cold mask reappeared, a slow smirk fitting to her face. “There isn’t much I’m afraid of, my lord.”
    His relaxed manner seemed to breeze away as quickly as her own. His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to tear away the prickly exterior she had erected. “Good. Then I should think this would be easy for you.” He sounded hard.
    Reaching for the basket of items, her chin lifted a notch. There was nothing left to say.
    Walking to the door, she heard him following closely behind her. He didn’t trust her. The realization hit her full force. Not that she expected him to, but he honestly didn’t think she could handle this.
    Squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the door, a brittle smile on her face. She knew it was more of a grimace, but it was the best she could manage at the moment. Her hands were beginning to sweat, her satin gloves becoming sticky, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
    They were just people, people that were sick. People that needed her help. And if they hated her, what did it matter? Members of the ton hated her, servants hated her. She was used to it.
    Yet, for some reason it bothered her now.
    A woman opened the door a crack. She was young, perhaps even as young as Victoria herself, but she looked as if she had experienced harder things in her life. “May I help you?” she asked tentatively, glancing at Victoria’s expensive gown.
    There wasn’t any malice in the woman’s voice, no envy in her gaze as she looked at Victoria’s apparel. Just honest curiosity.
    Victoria’s shoulders relaxed, her smile began to curve naturally. “His Lordship and I were out today and thought you might enjoy these items. We heard that you have a sick child.”
    Startled, the woman glanced past Victoria to look at the Earl. “Forgive me, I had not realized, my lord. Would you and the mistress like to come in have a bite to eat?”
    Already beginning to give her regrets, the Earl strode forward. “We would be delighted, Elizabeth. Thank you.”
    The look the Earl passed her was one that brooked no arguments.
    While the woman was friendly enough, Victoria had no desire to enter the sick home. What if she did something wrong? What if she did something to upset the child further?
    Taking a heavy breath, Victoria steeled herself before entering the small cottage. Everything would be fine, and with any luck, they would be out of there quickly.
    Stepping into the woman’s home, she was shocked at how different it was from what she’d imagined. The outside was plain brown wood with little stonework for decoration. The roof was thatch and was obviously in good repair, but it was anything but pleasing to the eye.
    But the inside was much different. The heady aroma of the cooking fire, some stew or soup simmering over the flames that lapped at the pot, made the house feel homey, welcoming. The floors were bare except for one small rug in front of the fire, but they looked as if they had just had a recent cleaning. The stones were polished to a shine; not one speck of dust looked as if it would dare take residence there.
    The pallets in the corner looked fresh, the linens were nicely folded at the foot of each. There wasn’t even one dirty dish to be seen.
    “How is little Johnny?” the Earl finally asked after taking a seat at the small, round table.
    “He’s feeling a little better today.” Elizabeth deftly cut into one of the fresh loaves, offering the largest slice to the Earl. “Come on out, Johnny. Say hello to the Earl and his guest,” she called