Page 48 of Honor Unbound

His hand lingered on Marie’s a bit longer than proper, and I gave them my back. If this romance continued, I would need to make some adjustments. I didn’t have any married servants in my household, an oddity that just now struck me. There was a rather large room below the attics that might make a good chamber for them.

I only hoped the relationship didn’t end badly. I would hate to lose either of the two if they could no longer work together.

“Shall we?” I asked Marie. Without waiting for a reply, I marched up the steps and knocked on the front door. Their butler opened it almost immediately. “Milady.”

I stuck my stick in the door’s opening so it couldn’t be shut in my face. “I’m here to see Mrs. Trent.”

He nodded. “Let me see if she’s accepting callers.” He turned and wandered down the hall.

I stepped inside to wait. A handsome black-and-white cat strolled up to me to investigate. It sat back on its haunches, looking at me expectantly.

I gripped the round head of my walking stick and lifted my chin. I had become a dog owner against my will. I would not succumb to a cat’s charm, too.

Marie felt no such compunction. She dropped to a squat and pet the beast, cooing.

The butler returned. “If you’ll follow me, Lady Mary.”

We all followed him, me, Marie, and the cat, parading into the sitting room, one after the other. Mrs. Trent and her sister, Mrs. Shaw, rose from their chairs, dipping into curtsies.

We returned them. “How do you fare, Mrs. Trent?” I asked as I settled onto a low settee, Marie next to me. The cat jumped up between us.

Mrs. Shaw grabbed the cat and set him on the floor. “Not on the furniture. I told you.”

Mrs. Trent’s smile seemed forced. “I bought my daughter a cat. I thought she needed something of comfort since the death of her father. My sister isn’t an admirer of animals.”

“The animals are fine,” Mrs. Shaw sat back down. “It’s their hair and mess I don’t care for.”

“It is a good thing I will be moving back home in a few days then.” Mrs. Trent picked up a round of embroidery and stabbed her needle into it. “It is kind of you to call and offer your condolences once again, Lady Mary.”

I eyed the cat. It seemed poised to make another leap, this time on me. I placed my walking stick between it and me. “But of course, Mrs. Trent. When something so tragic occurs, it befalls each and every one of us to offer what succor we can.”

Mrs. Trent’s response was interrupted by two little girls racing into the room, each clasping a strip of ribbon and waving it behind them. The volume of the room leaped.

“My daughter and niece.” Mrs. Trent pointed at the girls. She raised her voice to be heard over the din. “They are very high-spirited children.”

The larger of the two caught sight of the cat. “Mittens!” She made straightaway for the animal, and the cat wisely fled theroom. The girls gave chase, their accompanying noise fading down the hallway.

Mrs. Shaw muttered something to herself, earning a scowl from her sister.

Something crashed, and Mrs. Shaw shot up. “I’ve never had such trouble before,” she said before hurrying from the room, presumably to locate the source of the racket.

Mrs. Trent laid her embroidery aside. “I am grateful to my sister for allowing me to stay here, but it is well past time to leave. Family is a two-edged sword: someone you can always turn to and someone who, well, can frustrate you beyond understanding.”

“The same can be said of a husband.” I arched an eyebrow.

Marie smothered a snort and ended up in a coughing fit.

I smacked her on the back.

Mrs. Trent crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you have a point in coming here? I know you spoke with Driscoll.”

I wiggled deeper into the seat cushion. I appreciated Mrs. Trent’s candor. Trying to hide something I already knew about would only waste everyone’s time. “Yes, I know you were having an affair. I was surprised to learn it was with the man your husband was suing. That seems rather a conflict of interest in your family’s business.”

“Not at all.” She bounced her slippered toe up and down. “I didn’t involve myself in the cannery. Nor Driscoll’s business.”

“But you met your…Mr. Gray at your husband’s factory, did you not?” I asked. “You had to have had some involvement with the business.”

“I visited the factory once or twice.” She lifted one elegant shoulder.