The Spinster's Secret by Emily Larkin Page A

said. “But even so, that is something I can do for you! You needn’t stay. You can go down to Cornwall.”
    “No,” Edward said firmly, remembering several of the more explicit sentences.
    “But . . .”
    “It isn’t something for a lady to be involved in, Miss Chapple.”
    …
    Not something for a lady to be involved in . Mattie knew instantly what he meant. Chérie’s confession.
    Horror gripped her, paralyzing her legs, her lungs. She stumbled and almost fell.
    Mr. Kane took her arm for an instant, steadying her. “Are you all right, Miss Chapple?”
    “Perfectly,” Mattie said.
    But she wasn’t. Her throat was too tight for her to breathe, almost too tight for speech.
    Uncle Arthur had seen Chérie’s latest confession. He knew that someone in the village had written it. And worst of all, he had set Mr. Kane the task of finding her!
    She gripped her trembling fingers tightly together and forced herself to inhale. Don’t panic!
    They reached the lake. The water was a dull grey-brown.
    Mattie forced herself to speak calmly as they stopped in front of the folly. “In the summer it’s quite pretty here.”
    “Hmm,” Mr. Kane said, his tone unconvinced.
    Mattie glanced sideways at him. He won’t be able to find me out . There was nothing in the confession that could identify her. However many days he stayed at Creed Hall, her secret was safe.
    She began to regain her self-control. “It does look very unattractive right now, I grant you, Mr. Kane. But in the summer I often come down here to sit in the folly and sew.”
    Mr. Kane turned to look at the folly. The faux Greek temple was rather shabby, its pillars streaked with mold, its marble steps half hidden beneath deep drifts of rotting leaves, but it was still recognizable from the Countess’s diary, perfectly round, with a pan-tiled roof and colonnade. Here, the young Countess and her groom had spent many happy hours. And here, Lord S. beds Chérie in the latest confession.
    Would Mr. Kane recognize it?
    “This property used to belong to the 5th Earl of Malmstoke,” Mattie said hastily, turning back to the lake. “His wife is believed to have drowned here. Suicide.”
    Mr. Kane spun on his heel and regarded the lake, his eyebrows rising. “Suicide?”
    Mattie nodded and began to walk away from the folly. “Her husband was an extremely unpleasant man, so I believe.”
    “Oh?” Mr. Kane matched her stride.
    “He liked to inflict pain.”
    “Ah.” Mr. Kane grimaced. “The poor woman.”
    “Yes.” Mattie glanced at the lake. “Her body was never found.”
    They walked for several minutes along the curving shore, until the dark roof of Creed Hall came into sight, rising above the treetops. Mattie halted and stared across the lake at it. If Uncle Arthur discovered she was Chérie . . .
    “It’s hard to believe the remains of a Countess lie beneath these waters,” Mr. Kane said.
    “I don’t think so,” Mattie said, unthinkingly.
    He turned to look at her. “You don’t?”
    Mattie blushed, annoyed with herself. “I think she ran away.”
    He surveyed her. “You do?”
    She nodded. I know she did. She fled with her lover, the groom .
    “Hmm.” Mr. Kane turned back to look at the lake. “A nicer version of the tale, I grant you.”
    “Yes.”
    “And on that note…” He pulled something from one pocket. “Would you like a slice of gingerbread?”
    “Gingerbread?” Mattie blinked and stared at him.
    At this moment Mr. Kane was quite surprisingly attractive. It was the color of his eyes, warm, dark brown, or perhaps the smile lines creasing his face beneath the disfiguring scars.
    She swallowed. “Thank you.”
    They strolled in companionable silence along the lakeside path, eating gingerbread. Mattie was acutely aware of Mr. Kane’s closeness. Their shoulders almost brushed as they walked. I like him .
    She gave herself a mental shake. If Mr. Kane was hunting Chérie, he was no friend of hers.
    “Better than Gunter’s,” Mr.