Heiress in Red Silk by Hunter, Madeline (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📗

was not a modest abode. It rose three levels above the elevated entrance doorway. In this neighborhood it would cost a good deal to let.

Apparently, Miss Jameson was eager to spend her inheritance.

He helped her down and introduced her to the agent after receiving his card. Mr. Maitland smiled and opened the door. “We will tour the cellar kitchen and chambers last, if that will suit you, sir. Most couples are more interested in the public rooms. The library is right here.”

“You have misunderstood, Mr. Maitland,” Miss Jameson said. “Mr. Radnor escorts me today, but I alone will be living in the house that is let.”

Mr. Maitland expressed no surprise, but he sent a gleaming glance in Kevin’s direction before extolling the proportions and airy space of the library.

Miss Jameson paced around, unaware that the agent had formed his own conclusions about her. Nor did Kevin see any reason to alert her or to correct the man. When it came time to sign the lease, Mr. Maitland would learn the truth of it.

She positioned herself in front of the empty bookcases that spanned one long wall, flanking the fireplace. “They look rather bleak.”

“They won’t after you have filled them,” Mr. Maitland said.

Miss Jameson barely nodded. She followed Mr. Maitland out to see the dining room and morning room. They went above to view the drawing room and gallery, and a large apartment. The next level held more bedchambers, and the top one the servants’ quarters.

“It is a handsome house,” Kevin said while they came down the stairs. “Large.” What could one woman need with all this space?

Miss Jameson slowed her steps so he came up behind her on the staircase. “This be a very good street, yes?” she asked quietly.

“An excellent street. This house will require at least three servants, however. More likely five or six. That does not include any grooms for horses or staff for a carriage if you have one.”

She stopped outside the library and allowed Mr. Maitland to pace farther away. “It be the sort of house a lady would live in, you mean.”

“Anyone could live in it who wanted to and could afford it. But, yes, a lady would be comfortable here.”

“I think so too.” She cocked her head. “Where do you live?”

“In my family home when I am in Town.”

“You be with your family still?”

“It is only my father, and it is a very large house. If I did not agree to dine with him on occasion, we would never see each other.”

“How interesting.” She walked toward Mr. Maitland, who waited patiently by the door leading down below.

When all was done, Mr. Maitland left them alone to walk through again if they chose, or, Kevin assumed, to discuss the suitability of the house for a man looking to keep a mistress contented. Miss Jameson returned to the library and again pondered those bookcases.

“I never thought about a library.” She glanced at him as if suddenly remembering he stood there. “I don’t own any books. These will look odd if they be empty.”

“You will simply purchase some books. Just buy what you like. Or, if you prefer, a bookseller will choose a selection for you.” He noticed she now frowned. “Do you know how to read?”

“I know well enough. Probably not so good as to read what a bookseller would choose.” She strolled past him, toward the entrance. “I think I’ll try to get better at it, so I’m sure to understand the details of any fancy documents that are put before me.”

He cursed himself for his question. He had actually watched her read the fancy document he had set before her. “Like many things, it comes easier with the doing of it. What do you enjoy reading?”

“Years ago I began reading a book that had pictures in it of knights and ladies. I did not get far before I couldn’t borrow it no more, but I did enjoy it. Perhaps I will see if a bookseller has a copy of that book.”

Mr. Maitland locked the door and took his leave. Miss Jameson bent back her head and looked up the height of the house, giving Kevin a view of her very fine profile. The word “lovely” came to his mind. Her face was more elegant than pretty, more classic than sweet. As for Chase’s description of her being luscious, that mostly pertained to her form beneath the neck. Even in her pelisse he could see evidence of full breasts and a narrow waist. His imagination had spent too much time during the last day disrobing her to discover just how luscious she might be.

That would have to end immediately, unless he wanted to be an idiot while trying to lead her in the direction the enterprise needed to go. It had entered his mind that saddling him with Miss Jameson had been the duke’s idea of a fine joke. Uncle Frederick’s sense of humor had taken peculiar turns sometimes.

She turned to the carriage. “I think this will do.”

“It is very large.” The last thing he wanted was for her to let a house that cost so much she went looking for more money. That would only encourage her to sell her half of the enterprise.

“So you said. Three servants at least, you said. I like that it be the kind of house that a lady might live in, though.”

“Is it your intention to live like one?”

She allowed him to hand her into the carriage. “I think me intention might be to live like the heiress I be now. I will decide after I do me sums.”

* * *

That evening after dinner, Rosamund settled into the library with Minerva.

“The house sounds like just the thing,” Minerva said, continuing a conversation started at the table. “That street is quite fashionable.”

More fashionable than this one, her tone implied. Being gentry born, and married to the grandson of a duke, Minerva did not have much to prove. Her blood, and that of her husband, made her acceptable.

Rosamund had