Murder and Misdeeds Read Online Free PDF

sum. But perhaps her money was intact. Susan had no notion of household management. Her mama had done all that sort of thing. If they found her— when they found her—she would have a talk with Susan about keeping up Appleby Court.
    Would she marry Blackmore if he was the one who had carried her off? Mrs. Enderton had warned her and Susan away from him during her mourning visit here. “Not fit for decent company,” she had said, so Corinne had very little knowledge of him. What a wretched husband he would make an innocent girl. Would Jeremy Soames have her if she had been ruined? In any case, Susan must not marry Blackmore if she did not care for him. Surely she didn’t care for him—although he was rather handsome, in a horrid, sinister way, like a villain in one of Miss Radcliffe’s gothic novels. That wastrel would squander her estate in no time.
    Susan would be better off a spinster. At least she would be independent. It was lovely being independent, as long as one had enough money for some of life’s little luxuries. Corinne had never thought, when she was at home in Ireland, that she would ever be in her present position—still young, still healthy, and now wealthy to boot. An accepted member of the most Haut Ton group in London, the Berkeley Brigade. If they all hung together, they could get Susan accepted in Society, whatever ill had befallen her. Coffen, for instance, would still marry her. Perhaps even Luten ...
    She frowned and turned over to begin counting sheep. When she opened her eyes, sunlight streamed in at the window. Dancing sequins of iridescent light reflected from the mirror onto the ceiling. At least the weather wasn’t going to hamper their search for Susan.
     

Chapter Five
     
    From her bedroom window Corinne looked out on a perfect picture of bucolic peace. This picturesque corner of East Sussex, nestled amongst the woods and moorlands, seemed the last place on earth one would expect violence and possibly even murder. The branches of tall trees moved lazily in the breeze. Graceful swallows cut a swath against the brilliant blue heavens. In the distance a raucous daw protested some grievance.
    Corinne turned reluctantly from the window and began to dress for the day in the older blue muslin she’d got from her trunk the night before. After a hasty toilette, eager to get on with the job, she went downstairs.
    She was annoyed to find Luten his usual well-groomed self when she went to the morning parlor for breakfast. There had been no warm water for her to make a toilette. She had pulled the bell cord in vain and finally used the cold water in the basin in Susan’s room. Yet Luten had obviously shaved. He wore an immaculate cravat and had not slept in that jacket he wore either.
    Luten’s cold eyes raked her from head to toe, then lifted again to frown at her hair. He performed an exquisite bow. As he drew her chair, he murmured softly in her ear, “Setting up to play the role of Lady Medusa, Countess?”
    Her temper rose, but she replied coolly, “Has your valet arrived, Luten?”
    He gestured gracefully at his waistcoat. “As you see. If Simon cannot take care of me properly here, I shall remove to the Rose and Thistle. You ought to have brought Mrs. Ballard with you. You look, if you do not mind my pointing it out, as if you had combed your hair with a rake.”
    “Thank you. I did not mistake that ‘Lady Medusa’ for a compliment.”
    “Your gown could do with an ironing as well,” he added, eyeing it with disdain as he took up a chair opposite her.
    “We have more important things to think about than our toilettes.”
    “Surely we are capable of managing two thoughts at a time?”
    “Have you learned anything since last night?”
    “I had no revelatory dreams, if that is what you mean. Since rising, I have learned that Mrs. Malboeuf makes a demmed poor cup of coffee and cannot fry an egg for toffee. Your stormy eyes tell me you are still concentrating on your one thought.