Chapter 5

He could not believe that Eliza was E. B. Westin, though if he would have bothered to give it much thought, perhaps he would have realized himself. It was just proof that people simply made assumptions without facts because Lucian would have wagered that E. B. Westin was a man with a talent for fright.

Yes, he had read the novels and had enjoyed every single one.

They had been his escape from the Season when forced to be in London to attend Parliament. He had visited castles in Spain, dark forests in Germany, Chateaux in France, and even keeps in the Highlands. Yes, they were gothic in nature, and contained a bit of romance, but were also predicable, which added to his comfort and entertainment in reading them.

Not that he would tell Eliza, of course.

However, that still didn’t explain why she needed to write her next book at Greenhaven Cottage.

“If it is the quietness of the country that you need, why not do so at your father’s estate in Surrey,” he suggested. “Nor would it have been necessary that you lease this property.”

“Because my parents are there.”

What a very strange answer, unless her parents did not approve of her profession. “You have an objection to your parents?” Lucian had difficulty believing that. Then again, he lost his parents when he was but fifteen and he had missed them since. “Do they not want you to visit?”

“I am certain they do not have an opinion on the matter,” Eliza answered. “Most of the time they forget I even exist.”

It was then that he recalled what Oliver had told him long ago. Apparently, Eliza's parents were so focused on their two sons, the heir and the spare, that they often forgot that they had sent their daughter off to school and failed to bring her home. Holidays had been spent in the homes of her friends. In fact, they had even forgotten that she had completed her education at the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies and it had been Oliver who remembered and had gone to retrieve her, which had led to Lucian and Eliza’s first fateful meeting.

No wonder she did not feel a closeness with them.

It also explained why she was not wed other than her obstinate personality. Likely her parents did not spend the necessary time or effort in securing her a husband. In fact, Lucian recalled seeing very little of Eliza in London during what should have been her first Season, which had been his sister, Elaina’s third. Being the daughter of a viscount, and newly placed on the marriage mart, he should have encountered her several times that first spring, and the ones that followed. Though in truth, once Elaina was wed, Lucian avoided Society the best that he could and only attended balls when absolutely necessary.

“I will not keep you.” Lucian finished his tea and set the cup and saucer on the table before he stood.

Eliza also came to her feet. “It was nice of you to visit. If you wish to do so again, you are welcome.”

No doubt she was expecting the same invitation to come to Wyndhill Park, but Lucian would not offer it. He still did not trust that she was here out of convenience despite the reason she had given. “Thank you.”

Once Lucian was back at Wyndhill Park, he went to his library and withdrew the first book that had ever been published by E. B. Westin and chuckled. To think, when he had first read the novel, it had been out of boredom. He was in London, the sessions in Parliament had been complete and he was due to return to Wyndhill Park at the end of the sennight. As he had no intention of attending a ball, he had picked up the book that had been left on a table in the library. Lucian did not even know where it had come from. For all he knew, a brother had left it there.

Regardless, Lucian had poured himself a brandy, settled into a comfortable chair and began reading. It had been full of detail, mystery, horror, and romance. He had also been certain that it had been written by a man.

Though Eliza really did not expect to see Garretson again, she remained hopeful. But, after a sennight, she had to conclude that he was no longer suspicious as to why she chose Greenhaven Cottage. But it was still too soon for her to risk sneaking onto Wyndhill Park to search one of the caves that were at the edge of his property.

She had time and it would be foolish to rush. Besides, she still had so much rewriting to do now that the pages had been organized and a detailed outline had been prepared, lacking only an ending. In another sennight, if Garretson did not call again, she would risk trespassing onto Wyndhill Park.

“Miss Weston, have you discarded any clothing or items recently?” Stella asked as she entered the room where Eliza worked.

“I have thrown nothing away.”

Stella frowned. “I am certain that the items are only misplaced and I will locate them later.”

“What was misplaced?”

“A stocking, glove, and handkerchief.”

Eliza frowned. “How very odd.”

“First it was the handkerchief, the day after the wedding. I assumed you must have left it at Wyndhill Park.”

“I suppose it is possible. Perhaps it dropped out of my reticule.” Though she did not remember taking it out.

“Two days later the glove turned up missing.”

Again, Eliza frowned. “I have not left the cottage except to stroll around the property and enjoy the gardens, and I did not bother to wear gloves.”

“It may have slipped out of the drawer or fallen behind the dresser. I will have Saul move furniture to see if it is there.”

“You also mentioned a stocking,” Eliza reminded her.

“Yes. That is what I noticed today while doing the laundry. There is one stocking missing and I cannot find it anywhere. That is when I remembered the glove and the handkerchief. One is easily dismissed, but my concern is all three.”

“What do you suppose has happened to them?” Eliza asked.

“After you received those missives, I feared that maybe…”

“Stella, whoever that person is, they have no way of knowing where I am. Besides, why would they take items that belong to me?” Eliza dismissed her maid’s concern. “I am certain there is a reasonable explanation, one that we have not yet considered.”

“You are correct.” Stella shook her head. “I need to stop reading your books. They do give me a fright.”

Eliza couldn’t help but grin. “That is exactly what they are supposed to do, but I will not allow you to stop reading them. I need your assistance.”

Stella was always the first to read any book after it was complete, and sometimes even wrote the words dictated when Eliza’s hand hurt too badly to write. It was Stella who made notes or comments if something was confusing, or unclear, and also offered valuable feedback. She and Saul may be servants, but at one time Stella had been a governess and when she met Saul, a fighter, she lost her position and was unable to find another one. Then Saul became older, no longer winning the matches and the two needed another profession. They arrived together when Eliza first sought her servants. She had liked them immediately and over time, they became more than servants to her.

“I will return to the laundry,” Stella offered before she ducked out of the room.

Eliza poured herself a cup of tea from the pot that remained at the corner of her desk. Stella replaced it often throughout the day and would leave a sandwich if Eliza forgot to leave her desk to eat.

With cup in hand, Eliza leaned back in her chair and chuckled.

If she were still the same girl who had attended the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies, she would have invented a story to explain what had happened to the items, and it would be something magical, of course, such as fairies or brownies that wish to steal a person’s possessions before taking their souls.

With a grin, she sat forward and pulled out a clean piece of parchment and wrote handkerchief, glove, stocking, and fairies or brownies who steal items before souls, then set it aside. That would be another novel or serial for a magazine.

Had she known her future when she first read Wake Not the Dead, and imagined that a local viscount was a vampire, she would have begun writing much sooner.

Eliza set her teacup aside and picked up a pencil but the moment she clasped it, pain traveled from her thumb to her wrist and she blew out a sigh. There would be no more writing today. Instead, she would stroll the gardens and possibly go into town if Stella was available to accompany her. Though, in truth, she was old enough that she did not need a chaperone or companion.