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household of women to care for one viscount, but that has ever been the case. Could I trouble you to leave Mrs. Pell and me alone for a moment? I wish to speak with her privately.”
    “Sir!” she chirped, bobbing a ragged curtsy before she bolted from the room.
    Mrs. Pell hurried toward him. “Milord, won’t you relax in the drawing room until dinner’s prepared? It’ll be an hour yet. You’d be so much more comfortable.”
    “I like it here. It’s busy.” He gestured toward the table and chairs that had been set near the hearth. “Would you please sit down, Mrs. Pell?”
    She gasped, “I would say not, sir!” and stared at him as if he’d just pinched her on the rump.
    Lancaster held up his hands. “I’m not attempting to permanently upset the delicate balance between man and his housekeeper, I assure you. It’s just that I wish to speak with you about something…difficult. I thought you’d prefer to be comfortable.”
    The blood drained from her face. “Difficult?” she whispered.
    “Yes.” He grabbed a chair and pulled it closer before the woman could collapse. She let herself be eased down. “It’s about Miss Merrithorpe, of course.”
    The air left her lungs as she slumped. “I…I hoped…Oh, sir, I pray you can forgive me!”
    Collapsing into his own seat, he shook his head. “Forgive you what?”
    “Well, I knew. Of course I knew! And while I was sure she was making a grand mistake, I could not think how else to help her!”
    His confusion increased tenfold. “But how could you have stopped Miss Merrithorpe’s marriage?”
    Mrs. Pell’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned at him.
    “You knew she planned to take her own life?”
    “No!” She shook her head hard, then paused for a moment as if to gather her thoughts. “No, of course not. I’d never have allowed such a thing. But I knew how desperate she was. That man…”
    “Richmond?” The name tasted of bile on his tongue. “Her fiancé?”
    “Yes, though she never agreed to marry him, milord.” The housekeeper leaned forward in her chair, healthy color returning to her cheeks on a wave of emotion. “She refused. Said he was a devil. So Mr. Cambertson locked her in her room and fed her only bread and water, and still she would not agree.”
    “My God.”
    “I was so worried for her, but there was naught I could do. And then…And then Mr. Cambertson decided that if he could not convince her, perhaps her betrothed could! He sent for him, and…She’d met him only twice before, but she’d seen that he…”
    Mrs. Pell leaned slightly away and looked at him carefully. For once, he had no idea of the expression on his face. Horror or just weariness?
    “You must know him, being a viscount and all, but I hope he’s no friend of yours.”
    “No.”
    “Good. As I said, she had heard he was not right , you understand. Cynthia wouldn’t have wanted to marry a stranger anyway, lord or not. But once she met him, she was afraid. And then that last time…” The housekeeper shook her head and her eyes glinted with moisture. “She managed to escape at least.”
    Escape. By throwing herself from a cliff. Sad to say, Lancaster understood completely.
    And what had happened to her before she ran? “I am sorry,” he whispered into the silence. “I had no idea.”
    “Well, how could you have, sir? You’re busy with your obligations in London. I daresay the dramas of our little shire have no bearings on life there.”
    “No, but…” Of course, he could not have known that Cynthia Merrithorpe might be forced into marriage, but he should’ve been keeping watch on the earl. Lancaster was responsible for that wretched life, surely. And by extension, for Cynthia’s death.
    “I should like to visit her grave,” he said.
    Mrs. Pell flushed and shook her head. “There is no grave. A suicide can never…and besides that, her body was not found.”
    He raised his head in a sharp jerk. “No body? Then how can we know she is dead?