The Confessions of a Duchess by Nicola Cornick Page B

shortcomings of either her butler or her housekeeper since she had deliberately kept them on to save them from an uncertain future. The health of both Mr. and Mrs. Carrington had been ruined in the last few years by the constant and excessive demands of the new Duchess of Cole and Laura, guilty that she had left her servants to Faye Cole’s mercy, had subsequently offered the Carringtons a new home. After a year, however, she was reflecting that it would have been better to employ servants to wait on them. Both Mr. and Mrs. Carrington were broken, shadows of their former selves.
    Miss Alice Lister, Laura’s neighbor from Spring House, a neat villa whose garden bordered Laura’s own, was standing in the hall and peering through the door of the drawing room. She had a straw bonnet on her corn-colored hair and was clad in an extremely pretty cream-and-yellow-striped muslin gown with matching pelisse.
    Laura liked Alice very much. Miss Lister had been ostracized by most of village society, especially those who were keenly aware of rank and status and were appalled that a woman reputed to be a former maidservant had come into money, bought herself a fine house and come to live amongst them. Such events went much against the natural order and the good ladies of Fortune’s Folly were not prepared to give Alice countenance. Then Laura had arrived, the biggest fish in the small pool of Fortune’s Folly, and she and Alice had become friends immediately. Laura liked Alice because she was neither servile nor ingratiating and she told things exactly as she saw them whether speaking to a duchess or a stable hand alike. Laura, surrounded by toadies for much of her life, found it refreshing.
    “I did knock,” Alice said. “I thought perhaps you might be down by the river this afternoon—” She stopped. “Oh! You have been in the river.”
    “How did you know?” Laura inquired.
    “You have a strand of pond weed in your hair. What happened?” Laura sighed. “I am not quite sure. I was in the rowing boat and I lost an oar, so I tried to paddle back with the remaining one but ended going in circles instead.”
    “Never try to paddle with only one oar,” Alice said. “It does not work.”
    “As I realize now. I grabbed at a branch and would have been able to steady myself, except that it broke and I drifted into the middle of the river and went over the weir.” Laura paused. Had she imagined that someone had given the boat a hefty push? She had seen nothing, for the sun had been in her eyes, but she had thought she had heard footsteps…
    No. That had to be pure imagination. She pulled herself together as Alice gave a gasp and clapped her hand to her mouth. “Laura, no! You were not injured?”
    “Fortunately not,” Laura said. “I should have jumped in and swum ashore but after I bumped my head I felt too sick.” She took a deep breath. “It was lucky that Mr. Anstruther was on hand to pull me out.”
    There—she had mentioned Dexter’s name with barely a pang of emotion and felt proud of herself. In a little while, possibly months but hopefully only days, she might even be able to think of him without that complicated mixture of guilt and longing.
    “Mr. Dexter Anstruther?” Alice said, eyes wide. “The mysterious gentleman who is staying at the Morris Clown Inn?”
    “Yes. He was fishing nearby.”
    “I thought so,” Alice said. “I passed him just as I arrived. He was wet and carrying several fish. That explains a great many questions I was asking myself.”
    “Such as?”
    “Why there was a pool of water on your front step and damp footprints in the hall for a start.”
    “You have a talent for investigation,” Laura said. She hoped that Alice’s powers of deduction did not extend as far as working out what she had been up to with Dexter Anstruther in the warming room. She hoped none of her feelings showed on her face.
    “I do.” A frown wrinkled Alice’s brow. “Mr. Anstruther is a little odd, do