How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

He peered over the top of the ladder. “Lady Persephone! It’s not safe!”

She smiled apologetically. “I couldn’t resist a closer look.”

“You might get injured. I insist you come up here at once.”

“Are you going to look at his hands too?” Conall murmured.

“Bloody right I will.”

His startled chuckle was really just an inhalation, but she liked to think there was something happy about the sound. She climbed the ladder after a stern glance into the darkness where she thought Conall might be lurking. She assumed he had the sense to stay hidden until they were well away. Lord Darrington looked over her shoulder as he helped her over the last rung. “You’re not having a liaison, are you?” He chuckled.

Persephone had found the best tactic was to act as though she didn’t understand the insinuations. All the while easing out of reach. Just in case. “Do you think there was a king buried down there?” she asked instead, breathless and wide-eyed. “King Arthur perhaps?” A ridiculous suggestion.

“Perhaps.” Lord Darrington offered his arm. He was more polite than the others, she had to give him that. And his hands were clean as well. “I suppose one never knows.”

One did know, actually.

King Arthur probably never came to this part of England, and anyway it would have been a good thousand years after the rough time period of this barrow. She supposed they could have added him to an ancient monument, but it wouldn’t have been a small one in Lady Culpepper’s back garden.

“Let me see you back to the house.”

She stifled a sigh. “Thank you, my lord.”

Persephone hadn’t actuallywanted to return to the house but as she had little choice, she made her way to the library to begin her research. She knew the books wouldn’t help her figure out why someone had been searching Henry’s bedchamber, but habits died hard. With any luck she’d find something she didn’t know about, some tiny tidbit of information. Anything.

Luck was not in bountiful supply at present.

“Percy, poppet, I told Lady Culpepper that you wouldn’t forget her ladies nuncheon.”

Persephone froze in the doorway. The library overflowed with ladies nibbling seed cakes with their tea or sketching the many curiosities displayed among the leather-bound books. Lord Culpepper had once been famous for his collection although it now appeared as though he collected girls in muslin day dresses. Persephone’s grandmother herself was dressed in a thoroughly unfortunate shade of lilac. Persephone bent to kiss her cheek. “Of course not, Grandmaman.” She absolutely had forgotten. She’d have hidden in the scullery if she’d remembered. She bobbed a polite curtsy in Lady Culpepper’s direction. “Lady Culpepper.”

“Mmm.” Lady Culpepper’s greeting was barely perceptible as always.

Persephone helped herself to cakes decorated with sugared violets. When she sat on the edge of a settee, the ladies angled themselves ever so slightly away from her. Holly gave her a tiny smile of apology but kept herself turned toward the others. Priya, crowded in like a strawberry-girl on the first day of spring, narrowed her eyes at them. Persephone crammed the rest of the cake in her mouth and stood up, as though that was what had been keeping her there. She nearly choked on the crumbs.

She turned her attention to the impressive collection. The usual assortment of flint and arrowheads were augmented with green jade from China, elephant-headed statues from India, hand-painted globes, and even an astrolabe with which to chart the stars. There were coins set against black velvet, some kind of spear, and several Greek urns carved with goddesses. It had been too dark to see them last night. Not to mention that Conall was entirely too distracting.

Ivy, inspecting one of the urns, jumped with a startled shriek.

Persephone paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ivy forced a laugh. “I beg your pardon, it’s my fault. I drank entirely too much coffee at breakfast.” She smiled awkwardly and scurried away.

Strange.

But since Persephone generally acted much stranger, she shrugged and continued to wander through the cluttered corners and aisles, but she didn’t really know what she was looking for.

Until she found it.

The crystal decanter with the broken neck, placed carelessly between an Etruscan vase and a basket of the “elf arrows” she and Henry had always insisted on bringing to his grandfather. Lord Culpepper had displayed them proudly, never mind that they were bits of flint or broken chalk. She frowned at the decanter. What on earth was it doing here? Someone must have found it outside and assumed it was part of the collection. She stared at it long enough that her grandmother called out from her chair piled with tasseled cushions.

“Percy, do join us for some marzipan.”

She forced a smile on her face. “Of course, Grandmaman.”

She hated marzipan.

Nuncheon went onso long Persephone contemplated feigning a swoon. When finally released to their own amusements, a quick glance at the clock told Persephone she had a few hours before dinner was served. It would be a pity to waste it in the drawing room when she could be back in the village, working on the festival. With mere days left, every second counted. And fretting over Henry was not proving productive.