She decided she was not going to be frightened off. Then she went to find Tilda because whatever was coming and she wanted at least one person in the house on her side who knew the full truth. Tilda was in the upstairs sitting room pretending to embroider while actually watching the front drive through the window with great strategic interest. When Nora sat down beside her and told her everything, including the dowager's warning, Tilda set down her embroidery and looked at her with calm, serious eyes. "Right," Tilda said.
"Then we need to be smarter than Mirabelle before Thursday. " "We are not plotting anything," Nora said. "We are not plotting," Tilda agreed. "We are preparing. There is a meaningful difference. " Outside the winter light shifted. On the drive below, a rider on a dark horse turned in through the manor gates, moving at a pace that suggested his errand was urgent.
Tilda watched him with narrowed eyes. "But who is that? " Neither of them knew yet. The rider's name was Thomas Greave. He was Lord Harwick Fenn's personal messenger, and he had ridden hard from the town of Coldwick, 12 miles east, with a sealed document that he delivered directly into the hands of Lord Harwick, who had arrived at Ashvale Manor that same afternoon under the pretense of visiting his cousin, Lady Mirabelle, during the selection week. Nobody had objected to his arrival.
He was a lord. He had a reasonable excuse. He smiled at everyone and made easy conversation over afternoon tea and left the impression of a man with nothing particular on his mind. Nora saw him for the first time in the front sitting room when she came down with Tilda at 4:00. He was standing near the fireplace with a cup in his hand, talking to Lord Cecil Barton about hunting seasons.
But then he looked up when she entered with the specific quality of attention that meant he already knew who she was. Lord Harwick Fenn was 41, lean with a pleasant face and pale eyes that did not match the pleasantness. He had the kind of stillness that reminded Nora of certain animals she had observed as a child, the kind that moved very little and watched very much, and then moved suddenly and completely when the moment came. Miss Vane, he said warmly, as though they were old acquaintances. I have heard so much about you.
You have an advantage over me then, she said. I know very little about you. That is often the case, he said, smiling. I am not a very interesting subject. Lord Cecil looked between them with a faint expression of someone who suspected there was a layer to this conversation he was not being included in.
Harwick, you know Miss Vane. We have only just met, Lord Harwick said pleasantly. But her name has come up in conversation. He looked at Nora again. I understand you are from Ketmore.
I am. A quiet place. I passed through it once, two summers ago. I recall a rather unpleasant business involving a land dispute near the Vane family property. Something about the eastern boundary.