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Secrets of Sloane House(39)

By:Shelley Gray

“What I have learned is not fit for delicate company, Mother.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Since when have you decided that I am too delicate to face reality?”

He was discomfited. “Well, now—”

“And why, exactly, have you decided to start determining how much I need to know about things?”

“Mother—”

She cut him off yet again. “And, for that matter, whatever happened to you simply telling me your news?”

“Well, this story . . . it is rather disturbing, I fear.”

She leaned back and rearranged her skirts. “Ah, I see. So you fear I may be shocked? You’re concerned that I might faint? Be scandalized?”

As a matter of fact, he was becoming rather shocked by their present conversation. “I fear this might trouble you unnecessarily. I don’t wish to cause you any sleepless nights. Or undue stress. You have quite enough of that in your life at the moment.”

“Because of your father.”

“Yes. Of course I mean because of Dad.”

After once again picking up her teacup, she sipped slowly, her eyes closing in pleasure for a brief moment. Then they focused squarely on him. “I beg your pardon, Reid, but I’m afraid you have me confused with some other ladies of your acquaintance.”

“Pardon?”

“You must have forgotten that your father and I have not always lived here in the midst of all this glamour and superficiality. At one time, we had a perfectly normal existence in South Bend.” She raised a brow. “Do you remember our home? It was within walking distance of the train tracks.”

He felt himself color. “Point taken.”

“I hope so. Now, I spent my morning listening to a group of women wax poetically about flower arrangements. I spent two hours in the salon getting fitted for gowns. I also bought a new hat, one that has a profusion of fake gardenias on it. Please tell me something worthwhile.”

“Yes, ma’am.” After debating briefly about what would be the best way to begin, he decided to tell her all he knew. “This story begins, I suppose, with my meeting a maid at Sloane House. Her name is Rosalind.”

A flash of wariness—and, dare he think, disappointment?—appeared in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I met her a couple of weeks ago. Veronica and Douglass were talking to her. She’s new, you see.”

“And?” Reid could see she was both disappointed and a bit bored. It was obvious that she had no desire to hear some gossip about a maid.

“And I must admit that she is a beautiful young woman. I, um, haven’t been blind to that.”

Interest sparked in her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes, she has brown curly hair and blue eyes. Trim. And the kind of complexion most young ladies of our acquaintance would be most envious of.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“Oh, she is.” He sighed. “But, Mother, that is not why she has been on my mind.”

“Reid, come to the point.”

“I will be happy to, but the story has happened to me in a roundabout fashion. And because of that, I feel forced to tell it to you in the same way.” He held up a hand to cut off any further protestation. “Suffice to say that I have discovered she is no ordinary maid. She is here under false pretenses.”

“Which are?”

“Her sister, who goes by the name of Miranda and worked at Sloane House as well, went missing. Rosalind is there to discover what happened to her.”

“I hate to disappoint her, but she might be on a fool’s errand. Many women have tales of heartbreak and woe. They are jilted by a lover or merely get homesick.” Looking a bit more optimistic, she added, “There’s also the chance the sister did what many women everywhere do when they are off on their own. Sometimes, when a young lady is out of the watchful eye of her family, she does the unthinkable.”

“Which is?”

Her eyes sparkled. “She falls in love and gets married to a man of her choice.”

He chuckled. “Touché. But . . . don’t you think if something good had happened to Miranda she would have written to her family?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Sometimes the woman might not want to hear her family’s criticism. A woman’s heart is a fragile thing, you see.”

Reid blinked. Frankly, he was taken aback by his mother’s flowery words. He’d had no idea she was such a romantic! “But they are not of society, Mother. They are farmers in Wisconsin.”

She smiled slightly. “Just because the family isn’t society and doesn’t live in a large city, it doesn’t mean they don’t care about the choices she makes.”