For The Love Of My Scotsman (Complete!)

Octavia's Secret

Thomas watched Lottie leave; his hands balled into fists. Watching Mr. de Lacy so blatantly target her made him itch under the collar, and it couldn't be a coincidence that she left so quickly after he hinted something about Edmund.

Thomas listened closely to the dinner conversations from his place in line with the other footmen as the meal progressed.

"Is it not strange that Mr. Farraday left so suddenly?" Miss Catriona said, looking around the table with keen, dark eyes.

"If you ask me," Sir Rolland sputtered, "it's no loss to our party that Mr. Farraday has left. He was nothing but trouble."

Lady Hillington nodded, her neck reddening. "Indeed. What an odious, nosy man."

"I didn't think he was so bad," her son, Captain Hillington, shrugged, but his eyes flashed and Thomas wondered if his response was a lie.

Mr. de Lacy must have seen it too, for he leaned forward casually. "Who was Mr. Farraday?"

Captain Hillington paused, setting his fork down slowly. "Just another guest who left yesterday morning."

"Did you happen to see him off?" Mr. de Lacy rubbed his thumb slowly across the rim of his wine glass.

"I did, just before dawn," Lord Campbell interjected. "Although he ignored me when I greeted him. In a terrible hurry, he was. Mr. Farraday was normally rather cordial, but he had his hat pulled low over his face and the collar of his cloak up. Rather rubbish, I must say."

Thomas started, his head cocking slightly at Lord Campbell's account of seeing Mr. Farraday leave. Whoever Lord Campbell had seen, it couldn't have been Mr. Farraday. Thomas knew beyond a doubt that he was already dead before dawn.

"How mysterious," Mr. de Lacy murmured and his thumb paused.

As dinner drew to a close and Lottie still hadn't returned with Octavia, the Countess announced that they would all retire to the drawing room. Lord Campbell suggested they play a round of cards, but Mrs. Ashdown argued that her niece, Miss Wilde, should play the pianoforte for them all. The poor girl looked stricken at the idea.

As the guests filed out to the drawing room, Mr. de Lacy hung back, pretending to examine the crown molding of the dining room.

"A word, Mr. Hawthorne?" Mr. de Lacy said, clasping his hands behind his back, his head still tipped back to look at the ceiling.

Thomas looked at the other footmen, who had gone to assist the guests, and hesitated. He wasn't sure he could control his temper if he were left alone with the man who was tormenting Lottie.

"Aye, sir?" Thomas said finally, joining his side.

"Did you notice anything strange about that conversation?" Mr. de Lacy asked quietly, but his tone was still light.

Thomas tugged at the hem of his gilded sleeve thoughtfully. "Aye, sir. They all spoke about Mr. Farraday in the past tense... as if they all knew he was already dead."

Mr. de Lacy nodded, a smile twitching at his lips. "Precisely."

***
Lottie held the boot up higher and advanced as Octavia sat up slowly on her bed.

"What are you doing with those?" Octavia whispered, her face pale.

"You killed Mr. Farraday," Lottie stated, her throat tight as she confronted her friend. "Why?"