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albeit listlessly. Usually she left quickly. But today she seemed to hesitate. Her haughty mask faltered. She bit her lip whilst staring down at her gloved hands. She looked more girl than noblewoman.
    “My lady?” Rebecca inquired.
    “I was wondering…” The young countess’ voice drifted off and she tapped her fingers on the counter.
    Rebecca stared at those long, elegantly tapered digits, gloved in kid leather that appeared to be the thinnest possible and was dyed a rich lavender.
    Jon had tapped his fingers in the mornings before a battle—the same exact cadence and pattern—when he had been full of energy, waiting, impatient. Lady Ruel was mimicking her husband’s habits in the way all young, infatuated brides tended to do. Only they were no longer newlyweds.
    Rebecca’s bitterness threatened to return.
    No, you’re better than this vain jealousy. You’re certainly stronger than this.
    She had proved herself stronger. For the past few years, she had worked hard from sunrise to sunset, suppressing her sensuality, her earlier need to belong to a man.
    But she had no heart for the sensual side of life. She’d had no lovers since Jon, male or female.
    Lust, pleasure, romantic love. She didn’t need those things any longer.
    They weren’t worth the price. Not worth the pain and heartbreak when the attachment ended.
    She was a changed person.
    Duty to her family and the satisfaction of serving a higher cause had replaced her earlier, sensual and frankly needy ways. Daily work made her stronger, devotion made her stronger. She straightened her spine.
    “Yes, my lady?” she repeated herself. The firm yet deferent tone in her voice pleased her. Yes, she could manage Jon’s wife just fine.
    Lady Ruel bit her lip. She appeared vulnerable, a bit lost. Human. The effect was rather breathtaking. It made Rebecca pause.
    “My cousin the Duke of Saxby is rather ill.”
    “So I had heard.” Everyone had been talking about the surprising marriage between the young Duke of Saxby and the disgraced Lady Maria Waterbury. The nuptials had taken place in Kingston, Jamaica. Presumably they had been happy newlyweds for many months. Then Saxby had taken ill from a tropical fever and they had returned to England.
    “The doctors say he should be recovered but his illness lingers.” Again, she tapped her gloved fingers, the soft leather making a pleasing patter on the highly polished walnut counter. “Perhaps…” Voice trailing off, she flashed a quick glance through her dark lashes.
    Mercy, was it really possible for any woman to be born with such long, thick lashes? Or did she enhance them with some artifice? Her eyes sparkled like sapphires.
    Rebecca found herself fascinated. The girl really was exceptionally lovely.
    A faint blush coloured Lady Ruel’s olive cheeks and she quickly lowered her gaze.
    “Yes, perhaps, my lady?” Rebecca prodded gently.
    Lady Ruel kept her eyes focused on the counter. “Do you think Maria is capable of actual murder?”
    The last word was spoken as though it were hard for her to pronounce it. Even so, the bluntness of the question startled Rebecca. Ladies were seldom blunt.
    “I meant, you knew her, correct?” Lady Ruel added, somewhat breathlessly.
    Rebecca scarcely knew what to say. “I knew her to some degree but not well.”
    “She’s an evil woman.” This was said with firm conviction.
    “Yes.” Oh lord, but Rebecca could surely use a large Scotch whisky!
    “She intends to murder my cousin and nothing can be done to stop her.” Anne Lloyd’s voice was sad.
    Saxby had been Anne’s lover. She had been unfaithful and yet all she had had to do was return home and Jon had, apparently, forgiven all. Resentment crackled along Rebecca’s skin.
    No, you don’t know that she was actually unfaithful. You only know that she ran away with Saxby. It’s none of your affair in any case. And you’re the last woman alive who can throw stones at an unfaithful wife…
    Rebecca tried to