Miss Aubert gave a sad smile. “Sometimes answers are not enough, are they?”
“No, they’re not. Not when you can’t prove anything.”
“I will be handing in my notice after the funeral.”
Kendra was surprised. “Where will you go?”
This time Miss Aubert’s smile was jaunty. “I am French, Miss Donovan. And good with the needle. I can find another position as a lady’s maid. Or perhaps I shall seek something new. It’s not good to live your life in fear; I learned that from France’s revolution. Maybe I shall book passage to your America and set up a dress shop. Life is what you make of it.”
Kendra returned her smile. “I think you’ll do well in America.”
Miss Aubert flicked a glance toward Alec, in the distance. “I think your beau is waiting . . .”
“He’s not my beau,” said Kendra, but Miss Aubert was already walking away.
When Kendra joined him again, Alec asked, “What did she want to tell you?”
“Lady Weston supplied her daughter with the laudanum.”
“What is she suggesting? That the woman wanted her daughter to die?”
“It would seem that way. Miss Aubert made a point of telling me that Lady Weston went in with a teacup and a full bottle of laudanum. There’s no way we can prove it, of course. And even if we could, Lady Louisa is the one who took it of her own volition.”
“Why did Miss Aubert confide in you, then?”
Kendra allowed her gaze to drift to the figure walking in the distance. “I’m not sure. Sometimes, when you have a secret, it’s a little less of a burden to carry when you share it.” She turned to look up Alec. “I’m glad I’ve been able to share my secret with you and the Duke.” She tucked her hand inside the crook of Alec’s arm—a gesture that was becoming more natural, she realized. “Someone just told me that life is what you make of it. I want to go home.”
He drew in a breath. “To Aldridge Castle?”
She smiled as she met his eyes. “For now.”