The laughter was the worst part. Not the cold water, not the mud in her mouth, not the ruined apron or the bruise already forming on her arm. It was the laughter.
Forty of the finest people in England, dressed in silk and lace, standing on the bank of the Duke's lake and laughing as a young maid sank beneath the water.But when she climbed out, she did not cry. She did not run. She stood there dripping and shaking, and she looked at them one by one. Every single face.Then she said five quiet words: "I will remember every face."They thought it was a joke. They thought she was nobody. They were wrong, because one of the people standing on that bank had a secret buried for 15 years. And before the summer was over, those five words would tear that secret out of the ground and destroy him.Clara Hollis had been working at Ravensworth Hall for exactly 11 days when the Duke spoke to her for the first time. It happened early in the morning before the sun was fully up. Clara had gone down to the stables to fetch fresh milk from the dairy, and she had stopped just for a moment beside the stall of an old gray mare. She did not mean to stop. Her feet simply would not move.She reached out and touched the horse's soft nose. The mare leaned into her hand as if she knew her."She doesn't usually like strangers."Clara spun around so fast she nearly dropped the milk pail. A tall man stood in the doorway: dark hair, plain riding coat, mud on his boots. For a moment, she thought he was one of the grooms. Then she saw the gold ring on his hand, and her heart dropped into her stomach. It was Thomas Ashcombe, the Duke of Ravensworth himself.Clara bowed her head and dropped into a deep curtsy. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I was only passing. I'll go at once.""There's nothing to forgive," he said. His voice was calm and low. "Her name is Bramble. She was my father's horse. She's very old now."Clara kept her eyes on the floor. She knew that name. She knew it very well, but she said nothing."You have a way with horses," the Duke said. "Where did you learn that?""My father, Your Grace. A long time ago.""Was he a groom?"Clara's fingers tightened around the handle of the pail. "He worked with horses, yes."The Duke looked at her for a long moment. Then he did something no duke had ever done for her in her life: he stepped forward, took the heavy milk pail from her hands, and carried it to the stable door."It's too heavy to carry so far," he said simply, and set it down outside. "Good morning, Miss...?""Hollis, Your Grace. Clara Hollis.""Good morning, Miss Hollis."And he walked away.Clara stood there with her heart pounding. She should have been happy; a kind word from a duke was a rare thing for a maid. But she was not happy. She was afraid, because she had not come to Ravensworth Hall to be noticed. She had come here to find out who killed his father.