up on the doorstep with the lad in tow.”
“Ursula was a fool to have gotten mixed up with Montague,” Giles reflected. “Master Monty was his from a previous…association. I’m sorry to say it wasn’t a marriage. The chit ran off and left the boy for Montague to raise, some dark-eyed Gypsy wench he’d shacked up with. The little blighter favors her, no doubt; Montague was fair. Then when Montigue died doing his bit, fighting for King and country, the boy’s care fell to Ursula. The bairn in Ursula’s belly when she arrived here was Montague’s, however. Master Monty was jealous of it. Ursula was afraid of the boy, if you can imagine that. We spoke at length on it. I pooh-poohed it at first, of course. I’m sorry now that I wasn’t more sympathetic. You know how she died. I will never believe it was a suicide. Never .”
“You can’t seriously believe—”
“I don’t know what to believe. That’s why I need your help, Foster. The boy’s been knocking about on his own much of the time. Nobody wishes to court his company. We’re all to blame for that. But, by God, it ends here and now. I don’t want to frighten the others, but supervision is imperative until we sort this out.”
“You mean that task is mine, I gather?”
“Until tomorrow night, if you’re game.”
“If what you suspect is true, God help us, that couldmean Master Monty might also be responsible for the deaths of the mistress and that…Osborne person!”
“All of which should prove to you that I did not kill them, Foster. They were murdered long before I was bitten, and no man could have savaged them the way they were found.”
“But…he’s only a lad. How could he have?”
“That is precisely what I mean to find out.”
Foster paused before speaking. “How exactly do you mean to enlist my help?” he asked at last.
That wasn’t a good sign. In all his years with the valet, Giles had never known him to hesitate, or place conditions upon a directive as he did now. That meant there was room for doubt. The poor man probably did think him off his head. Maybe he was. It was passing bizarre, yet too coincidental to be dismissed lightly.
“Does that mean you will help?” Giles prompted.
“I am still concerned about Miss LaPrelle,” the valet hedged. “Whatever possessed you to take her on here in the midst of all this? That was most irresponsible, especially considering your…suspicions. Why? Forgive me, sir, but I need to know what you could possibly have been thinking.”
“Why?” Giles said absently. “I do not know if I can answer you. You know how important ‘The Bride of Time’ is to us. We need the blunt, and the Prince Regent is interested. His patronage could make my name a house hold word. His interests flag, however, and I’m anxious to finish the painting before that occurs. I’ve had his favor ever since I painted that miniature of Maria Fitzherbert for his pocket watchcase. You remember, he paid me handsomely, and gave me the snuff box that doxy tried to steal last night as a bonus.”
“Vulgar piece,” Foster observed.
“Quite, but a bonus all the same, and that commission led to another possible sale if I can finish ‘TheBride’ in a timely fashion. Working on it takes my mind off the situation, and the brandy…I don’t even like the stuff, but it blunts the edges. You know the run of bad luck I’ve been having with models….”
“Yes, but I fail to see how all this answers my question about Miss LaPrelle, sir.”
“You will, if you let me finish,” Giles said, somewhat less than patiently. “I’ve been praying for someone like her to inspire me to finish the work. When she arrived, in my drunken haze, I thought I’d had an answer to my prayers. She is perfect for ‘The Bride.’ She is The Bride; so much so that I had to have her at any cost, even though she’d come about the governess position. I do not expect you to understand it. I don’t understand it myself, but there
“Ursula was a fool to have gotten mixed up with Montague,” Giles reflected. “Master Monty was his from a previous…association. I’m sorry to say it wasn’t a marriage. The chit ran off and left the boy for Montague to raise, some dark-eyed Gypsy wench he’d shacked up with. The little blighter favors her, no doubt; Montague was fair. Then when Montigue died doing his bit, fighting for King and country, the boy’s care fell to Ursula. The bairn in Ursula’s belly when she arrived here was Montague’s, however. Master Monty was jealous of it. Ursula was afraid of the boy, if you can imagine that. We spoke at length on it. I pooh-poohed it at first, of course. I’m sorry now that I wasn’t more sympathetic. You know how she died. I will never believe it was a suicide. Never .”
“You can’t seriously believe—”
“I don’t know what to believe. That’s why I need your help, Foster. The boy’s been knocking about on his own much of the time. Nobody wishes to court his company. We’re all to blame for that. But, by God, it ends here and now. I don’t want to frighten the others, but supervision is imperative until we sort this out.”
“You mean that task is mine, I gather?”
“Until tomorrow night, if you’re game.”
“If what you suspect is true, God help us, that couldmean Master Monty might also be responsible for the deaths of the mistress and that…Osborne person!”
“All of which should prove to you that I did not kill them, Foster. They were murdered long before I was bitten, and no man could have savaged them the way they were found.”
“But…he’s only a lad. How could he have?”
“That is precisely what I mean to find out.”
Foster paused before speaking. “How exactly do you mean to enlist my help?” he asked at last.
That wasn’t a good sign. In all his years with the valet, Giles had never known him to hesitate, or place conditions upon a directive as he did now. That meant there was room for doubt. The poor man probably did think him off his head. Maybe he was. It was passing bizarre, yet too coincidental to be dismissed lightly.
“Does that mean you will help?” Giles prompted.
“I am still concerned about Miss LaPrelle,” the valet hedged. “Whatever possessed you to take her on here in the midst of all this? That was most irresponsible, especially considering your…suspicions. Why? Forgive me, sir, but I need to know what you could possibly have been thinking.”
“Why?” Giles said absently. “I do not know if I can answer you. You know how important ‘The Bride of Time’ is to us. We need the blunt, and the Prince Regent is interested. His patronage could make my name a house hold word. His interests flag, however, and I’m anxious to finish the painting before that occurs. I’ve had his favor ever since I painted that miniature of Maria Fitzherbert for his pocket watchcase. You remember, he paid me handsomely, and gave me the snuff box that doxy tried to steal last night as a bonus.”
“Vulgar piece,” Foster observed.
“Quite, but a bonus all the same, and that commission led to another possible sale if I can finish ‘TheBride’ in a timely fashion. Working on it takes my mind off the situation, and the brandy…I don’t even like the stuff, but it blunts the edges. You know the run of bad luck I’ve been having with models….”
“Yes, but I fail to see how all this answers my question about Miss LaPrelle, sir.”
“You will, if you let me finish,” Giles said, somewhat less than patiently. “I’ve been praying for someone like her to inspire me to finish the work. When she arrived, in my drunken haze, I thought I’d had an answer to my prayers. She is perfect for ‘The Bride.’ She is The Bride; so much so that I had to have her at any cost, even though she’d come about the governess position. I do not expect you to understand it. I don’t understand it myself, but there
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