Sea of Secrets: A Novel of Victorian Romantic Suspense by Amanda DeWees

waiting longer.” She offered me a sad smile. “My dear, I do hope you will forgive this feeble showing on your first night with us.”
    I assured her that there was nothing to forgive, but I wondered at the cause of the duke’s absence. Was it meant to show disdain or to hurt his mother? Surely, no matter how forgetful or grief-stricken, he would have made an appearance otherwise.
    “Perhaps I should speak to the boy, remind him of his responsibilities.” This from Lord Claude, who looked anything but eager to do so.
    The duchess’s shake of the head sent her ruby earrings dancing; I could not help but reflect that their flirtatious motion was ill suited to the gravity of her expression. “I doubt it would do any good, Claude. I cannot do a thing with him, myself, since his father—” She broke off, perhaps recalling the presence of others.
    “I’m certain he’ll return when he tires of being dashed with salt spray,” said Charles, glancing at his stepmother’s puckered brow. “Unless, of course, he’s rehearsing for a tableau and wishes to portray Ariadne, pacing the shore of Naxos. Felicity could wrap herself in a counterpane to portray Dionysus, and descend from the chandelier to whisk him away.”
    Felicity squealed indignantly, and the duchess looked up with what seemed to be a grateful smile, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She reached out to touch Charles’s hand. “We mustn’t put Felicity in such a precarious position, but tableaus are a wonderful idea. We must have a game one evening soon—as long as I may be sure of the safety of the chandeliers.”
    Charles went on to make other ridiculous suggestions for the tableaus, Felicity interrupted to scold him, and in the silliness the subject of the duke’s absence seemed to be forgotten. The duchess’s face lost its sad preoccupation, and when the ladies withdrew to leave the men to their port, she was so busy describing the new hangings for the blue salon to me that she did not even seem to remember the cause of her earlier distress.
    As congenial as the company was, I felt tired after the day’s events and found the prospect of an evening’s conversation taxing. To my relief, the duchess rose to retire as soon as Charles and Lord Claude returned to join us in the drawing room.
    “I’m certain we ladies are all a bit weary after our journey, and would like to retire.” For some reason her cheeks were pink, although she had not been sitting by the fire, and she did not look at all tired as she took Lord Claude’s arm. Then I remembered that they had only been a few weeks married, and felt an answering blush rise to my cheeks as belated understanding came to me.
    “Have you everything you need, my dear?” the duchess paused to ask on her way out of the room with her husband. “If you find you lack anything, just ring for Jane. Good night, children, and sleep well.”
    And with that, they were gone. She seemed to have forgotten her concern over putting me in Great-Aunt Agatha’s room, but that was little wonder. She was obviously too absorbed in her reunion with her husband to fret for long about guest accommodations.
    Back in Great-Aunt Agatha’s room I did not ring for Jane, but managed to wriggle out of my gown and petticoats by myself; the prospect of another awkward session with the maid was more than I had the fortitude to face. The unaccustomed weight of my chignon had made my head ache, and I was glad to be able to pull out the hairpins and brush my hair out. Evidently moving among the higher strata of society was going to involve the sacrifice of a certain amount of comfort to fashion.
    I turned down the lamp and climbed into the high, canopied bed that had its own set of stairs. Had Great-Aunt Agatha’s legs been as short as mine? I wondered.
    I was warm and content under the faded velvet counterpane, and my room was perfectly silent. No sound, not even the noise of the sea, disturbed the stillness. Images of the preceding day