Page 41 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“I haven’t the faintest idea what to do,” I murmured.

Cassie laughed, and hopped nimbly on to her bicycle, riding in swirling curlicues around the driveway. “It’s very simple once you get the hang of it!” she called over her shoulder before arriving back in front of me and climbing off. “Let’s take them further into the grounds. You need a smooth surface and a nice soft place to land.”

We both took hold of our handlebars and I followed her, pushing my bicycle alongside me.

“You anticipate me falling off a lot, do you?” I lifted my eyebrows.

“Everyone falls off at first.”

“Just like riding a horse.”

“I suppose so.” Cassie shot me a sideways glance. “Do you care for riding?”

I shrugged. “As much as anyone does.”

“We have plenty of horses in the stable,” Cassie said, “if you would like to ride. Most of them were my stepfather’s. He was a fine judge of horses, and Mama kept them on. I think she believes it adds to her consequence.” She snorted dismissively.

Questions immediately leaped to my tongue and I forced myself not to ask them.

Which horses? Was Asteria still here?

Still, I couldn’t miss an opening like that one. “Your stepfather passed away some years ago, I understand?”

Cassie nodded. “Yes. It was only around a year after he and Mama married, so I didn’t know him that well. It seems wrong, when he gave us all of this.” She gestured at the scene around us.

Careful, careful, I thought. “He left Holland Hall to your mother?” I asked innocently. “I thought that big estates like this went to male heirs.”

“Holland Hall hasn’t been entailed for several generations,” Cassie replied. “My stepfather had some rather progressive ancestors, luckily for us. Lord Scott-Holland left everything to my sisters and me, with an allowance for Mama.”

“Sisters?” I feigned surprise. “I thought Miss Weston was your only sibling?”

Cassie’s eyes slid from mine. “My stepsister. She died in an accident a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “But I’m sure the marquess would be happy to know he had left his estate in such good hands. Your home is beautiful.” I made the words light.

“It is beautiful,” Cassie agreed. “And, truthfully, I don’t know what would have become of us without his generosity. Our own father was … not a good man, and as I understand it he left Mama in a terrible state with two young daughters to support. She and I may not be close, but she’s always fought to provide for us.”

Would she kill to do so? That was the question I could never ask. My own investigators had revealed that Baron Weston had been a gambler and a womanizer, leaving his wife and children nearly destitute after his death – a lengthy illness, with no sign of foul play.

I had never really considered what Cassie and Agatha had endured. Still, surely once Helena had married again then her daughters were safe?

There was some strange business with his will. That was what Tookes had said. There must be a clue there – but what? The terms that Cassie described – that everything was split between the three of us, and that Helena had her own allowance – meant their future was secure. My father hadn’t denied his stepdaughters anything. Why would Helena have any need to kill him? Still, if Helena and my father had been arguing over it…

We were quiet as we walked through the gardens, and deeper into the park that surrounded the house, stretching on beyond the horizon in every direction.

Unlike being inside the house I found myself able to enjoy being outside. It was exactly as I remembered, untouched by Helena, who I assumed had left it in the hands of the gardeners and groundskeepers. I had only happy memories of being here, and it felt more like a homecoming than anything that had come before.

The October sunshine spread like a fine gauze across the landscape, illuminating the trees – a blaze of crimson and amber – as if we were surrounded by stained glass finer than you would discover in any church.

The air was sweet and fresh, and filled with birdsong. Leaves crunched beneath the soles of my leather boots, and I felt for a moment as though the weight had been lifted from my shoulders. As we climbed one of the gentle grass slopes I looked out at the undulating landscape, at the river snaking in the distance, at the small woodland where the red deer would be dozing peacefully under the golden canopy of the trees. Or perhaps not; it was mating season after all. Perhaps soon we would hear the roar of a stag, searching for his mate.

Home. My body sang. Mine.

“Here,” Cassie said. “This is a good spot.”

We were on a footpath cutting a gentle slope down through the grass.

“The first thing to learn is how to balance. There’s hardly any slope here, but it’s enough to help you glide without worrying about the pedals.”