Miss Morgan and the Gypsy

Eleven: How About a Game?

Forgetting the game, Nicu pushed away the cards, earning a shout of protest from St. George. "I was winning!"

"Phen has put you up to this hasn't she? I'm aware of how much she adores the little saint."

Lord Rathborne stuffed out his cigar. "Listen, brother, despite your sister's hardheadedness, I am the man of the house and decide things myself."

Nicu cocked a brow. "And with that said..."

The Marquess stared at him for a moment not dropping his fixed stare. "She had asked me too—"

"Ha! I knew it. And you also know I'm not one to apologize, it shows weakness."

"But you will." Lord Rathborne demanded.

St. George stepped in. "It would be best if you do so Nicu. She is a woman who has lost a lot and has been through a traumatic experience. She didn't deserve such treatment."

"She does when she started the fire." Nicu said casually.

"And we're on to that again." St. George sighed.

"My intuition isn't wrong. When she's around there's a feeling deep in my bones about her." Nicu contemplated, sitting back in his chair.

Pushing the scoreboard away with his big hands, Lord Rathborne stared at his brother-in-law. "Don't you think you could be confusing your intuition for something else?"

"Like what?" The agitated Roma questioned.

"Attraction." St. George joked.

Grumbling to himself, Nicu decided to ignore their irritating game. "We found the vial containing a small single remnant of whatever oil was used to start the fire near where I had found the letter opener. Both items among the path the girls took here. Now you both tell me that isn't suspicious."

Lord Rathborne hooked onto the bait. "It is, but I am almost certain it wasn't Harriet Morgan."

Nicu abruptly stood and paced the room. "You think it is merely a coincidence that she was the only teacher to have survived?"

Both men remained silent at the notion, which pleased Nicu. "There are no such things as coincidence. Not in this world."

"Why would she?" Lord Rathborne threw at him, trying to defend the young woman. "It was her home and from what I can see she deeply cares for these girls."

"It could all be an act" Nicu hypothesized.

"Then I must say, she missed her calling in life. She would've been marvelous on stage," Lord Rathborne replied sarcastically.

Drumming his fingers on the fireplace mantle, Nicu closed his eyes filing through everything he knew as of yet. "Jealousy is always a strong motivator. She could resent them for being young, with substantial darro—"

"Darro?" St George questioned.

It was Lord Rathborne who answered him. "Dowry. Esma has called it that on occasion."

"Like I was saying, no dowry or possibility of obtaining a husband, which means no children or a household of her own to run." Nicu stated.

"Why wouldn't she be able to obtain a husband? She's beautiful and—"

Nicu shoved at a heavy statue sitting on the mantle and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Do you remember Amelia Bradshaw?"

St. George was quick to answer. "Of course, how could a man forget such a beauty. What is your point"

"She's a spinster." Lord Rathborne detailed for Nicu. "She may have been the most enchanting of all the women during her seasons, but she lacked a dowry and title, so the men decided they'd rather have her as a mistress."