complexion was once again almost deathly white against her copper hair. “It’s gone. It’s missing. I looked everywhere.”
“The journal?”
She let go of his hands and glared at him. “Yes, the journal. What else could I be talking about, Mr. Redgrave. It’s gone.”
“Valentine. A moment ago, I was Valentine. I still am, Daisy.”
She sighed in exasperation. “All right, all right. Valentine. I had it out of its hiding place to look up the names for you. I was reading it when I...when I thought of something, and I believe I allowed it to fall to the floor unheeded as I left the room.”
“Wonderful,” Valentine commented, wincing.
“You don’t have to pull one of your disapproving faces to remind me how unfortunate this is. But nobody comes into my room, not even to clean it. I was allowed a key when I applied to Lady Caroline for one. I always demand a key. Husbands and sons, you understand.”
“Not really. I should think they’d be too terrified. Did you lock the door?”
“Please restrain yourself from questioning the obvious. Of course I neglected to lock the door. I was in a rush to follow you and— None of this is even vaguely amusing, Valentine. They’ll know why I’m here.”
“Then this they will know considerably more than I.” He grabbed her hand. “Come along now like a good little governess, Daisy. You’re leaving.”
She pulled herself free. “No. I can’t leave. Not without my diary. It has those names you need in it, remember? And...and memories. If—if I can’t locate it by tomorrow morning, yes, then I’ll agree to leave. I’ll have no choice.”
“And how do you suppose you’ll locate it?”
“I’ll simply have to ask people, that’s all. For some reason, people find it difficult to lie to me.”
“Imagine that,” Valentine said, knowing he was being facetious. But he said it to her back, because the door was already closing.
* * *
D AISY LEFT THE servant stairs on the third floor and headed straight for the nursery, mostly because she had no plans to interrogate Lady Caroline or Lord Mailer about the missing journal. That left the servants, and the children.
Hoping for a simple answer, she wouldn’t approach Lady Caroline’s keeper, Davinia, unless left with no other option. After that interview, she’d have no choice but to remove herself from the premises without delay. Not to be too dramatic about the thing—was that possible?—she would first tie up her possessions in a blanket and drop it out of her window before speaking with Davinia.
She wasn’t going to divulge her quickly devised plan to Valentine Redgrave, however, no matter how generous his offer to protect her. She didn’t know where Redgrave Manor was located, but certainly it was some distance from Fernwood. She would take herself no farther than a few miles away, so that she could return at night and watch the comings and goings of Lord Mailer and his guests. She’d find where he’d taken Rose, and then...and then...
“One step at a time, Daisy,” she whispered to herself as she hurried past the front stairs.
“You there, girl! Marchant!”
Her stomach sank to her toes, but she took a deep breath, turned about to look down at the landing, and dropped into a curtsy. “Lord Mailer, sir. I was just on my way to the nursery.”
“Did I ask? Come down here.”
He knows, he knows. I have to run. Now.
“Yes, sir.”
As she descended the stairs, her eyes downcast, she could feel his gaze on her, raking her head to toe.
Her hand on the newel post, to keep her from trembling, she hoped, she curtsied yet again, poised to race past him down the next flight of stairs, to bolt out through the front door before he could order anyone to stop her. “Sir?”
“No. Still don’t see it. He must have meant what he said, he felt some ridiculous need to apologize. Very well, that’s all. You may go now. And keep those brats indoors the next few days. I don’t want to have to see
“The journal?”
She let go of his hands and glared at him. “Yes, the journal. What else could I be talking about, Mr. Redgrave. It’s gone.”
“Valentine. A moment ago, I was Valentine. I still am, Daisy.”
She sighed in exasperation. “All right, all right. Valentine. I had it out of its hiding place to look up the names for you. I was reading it when I...when I thought of something, and I believe I allowed it to fall to the floor unheeded as I left the room.”
“Wonderful,” Valentine commented, wincing.
“You don’t have to pull one of your disapproving faces to remind me how unfortunate this is. But nobody comes into my room, not even to clean it. I was allowed a key when I applied to Lady Caroline for one. I always demand a key. Husbands and sons, you understand.”
“Not really. I should think they’d be too terrified. Did you lock the door?”
“Please restrain yourself from questioning the obvious. Of course I neglected to lock the door. I was in a rush to follow you and— None of this is even vaguely amusing, Valentine. They’ll know why I’m here.”
“Then this they will know considerably more than I.” He grabbed her hand. “Come along now like a good little governess, Daisy. You’re leaving.”
She pulled herself free. “No. I can’t leave. Not without my diary. It has those names you need in it, remember? And...and memories. If—if I can’t locate it by tomorrow morning, yes, then I’ll agree to leave. I’ll have no choice.”
“And how do you suppose you’ll locate it?”
“I’ll simply have to ask people, that’s all. For some reason, people find it difficult to lie to me.”
“Imagine that,” Valentine said, knowing he was being facetious. But he said it to her back, because the door was already closing.
* * *
D AISY LEFT THE servant stairs on the third floor and headed straight for the nursery, mostly because she had no plans to interrogate Lady Caroline or Lord Mailer about the missing journal. That left the servants, and the children.
Hoping for a simple answer, she wouldn’t approach Lady Caroline’s keeper, Davinia, unless left with no other option. After that interview, she’d have no choice but to remove herself from the premises without delay. Not to be too dramatic about the thing—was that possible?—she would first tie up her possessions in a blanket and drop it out of her window before speaking with Davinia.
She wasn’t going to divulge her quickly devised plan to Valentine Redgrave, however, no matter how generous his offer to protect her. She didn’t know where Redgrave Manor was located, but certainly it was some distance from Fernwood. She would take herself no farther than a few miles away, so that she could return at night and watch the comings and goings of Lord Mailer and his guests. She’d find where he’d taken Rose, and then...and then...
“One step at a time, Daisy,” she whispered to herself as she hurried past the front stairs.
“You there, girl! Marchant!”
Her stomach sank to her toes, but she took a deep breath, turned about to look down at the landing, and dropped into a curtsy. “Lord Mailer, sir. I was just on my way to the nursery.”
“Did I ask? Come down here.”
He knows, he knows. I have to run. Now.
“Yes, sir.”
As she descended the stairs, her eyes downcast, she could feel his gaze on her, raking her head to toe.
Her hand on the newel post, to keep her from trembling, she hoped, she curtsied yet again, poised to race past him down the next flight of stairs, to bolt out through the front door before he could order anyone to stop her. “Sir?”
“No. Still don’t see it. He must have meant what he said, he felt some ridiculous need to apologize. Very well, that’s all. You may go now. And keep those brats indoors the next few days. I don’t want to have to see
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