There could be no hiding her reaction to those words. He saw her shock and chortled at provoking it. “Oh, he didn’t tell you, did he? I’m not surprised. I don’t think he ever got over the whole thing. He always looks pained whenever someone mentions Abigail’s name.”
She frowned. “Abigail wasWilliam’sbetrothed.”
“He really didn’t tell you!” Hurley looked delighted. “I’ll tell you the whole truth of it, then. It was Whiddon who fell head over heels for the dark and sultry Abigail first. He loved her, and she was happy enough to have snagged the interest of the heir—until she met William. There was no denying the attraction between them. It was clear as day to anyone who saw them together. Even Whiddon saw it eventually. He gave up his love to his brother.”
The pain spiking in her heart put her head’s agony to shame. Was this it? The missing piece? The thing that kept Gabriel from fully trusting her? She’d heard the dark emotion in Gabriel’s voice when he spoke of his brother’s betrothed. She’d understood that the betrayal of his brother had helped fuel Gabriel’s general mistrust of marriage, of himself, of everything related to love. She just hadn’t understood how personal that pain had been.
He hadn’t told her.
“It will be a trio of wounds for poor, dear Whiddon. He sacrificed for love. Then he and his brother both suffered her betrayal of love—though I confess, it did take quite a bit more convincing than I expected.”
Her eyes widened. “Convincing?”
“Oh, yes. While William was still in his sickbed, I whispered in Abigail’s ear. I told her how difficult it was going to be, married to a cripple. The stares. The whispers. The constant care he would require. The anger and resentment he would always feel. Eventually, she agreed it would be so much easier to wed a whole man, and a wealthy banker to boot.”
“You are truly evil,” she whispered.
He laughed. “And you are inordinately naïve. But you will also be the third spike in Whiddon’s heart. Tragic loss. Harder to bear after the untimely loss of his brother. He’ll be alone.” He stood, carefully wiping his trousers clean. “With any luck, it will be enough to break him. Perhaps he will never find it in him to trust in fate, to marry again.”
Hurley nudged the satchel at his feet. “The great man,” he scoffed. “I’ll never see an acknowledgement from the old Marquess. Never a kind word, a helping hand or a penny of his fortune. The title will never be mine, but I’ll have the damned jewels and one way or another, I’ll see his line wiped from the earth.”
Charlotte pulled in a slow breath, willing anger and worry to coalesce into something harder and more ruthless. Hurley was more than greedy. He was fixated on Whiddon’s destruction. She must do everything in her power to thwart him. He’d mentioned a time constraint and he’d already stood in preparation to leave. She would do what she could to slow him down.
A particularly loud rumble sounded in the room. He didn’t react at all. Very well, then.
“Aaargh.” She dropped her head into her hands. “It won’t stop! Why won’t it stop?”
He eyed her, coldly puzzled.
“You don’t hear it? The noise? The rumbling?” She gave him a panicked look. “You hear it too, do you not? Or am I going mad?”
The confusion cleared from his expression. “Oh. Yes. That. I hear it. It’s just traffic, you foolish girl. Blame your uncle for living on top of a busy street instead of within the quieter confines of a square.”
Her uncle’s house? That’s where they were? She summoned a look of horror. “Traffic? Do you mean that we areunderthe street?”
“Yes. The noise is so constant, I scarcely notice it now, myself.”
“Are we in thesewers?” she asked with disgust.
“Don’t be an idiot. Do you think I would hide, even temporarily, in the sewers? You stupid girl. We are in your uncle’s beer cellar. This tidy little room was once likely used to hide untaxed, unstamped brandy casks.” He chortled. “I’m not the first smuggler your family has consorted with, clearly.” He sighed. “But it does seem as if your cousin is not coming. They must have detained her. She’ll play the victim, of course. It will be believable, because she’ll likely believe it herself. But we should head to a safer spot.”
“I cannot.”
“It wasn’t an invitation. Get up.”
“I cannot. My head. The nausea.” She shook her head and groaned. “I am ill.”
“I don’t care.” He crossed to her and tried to wrestle her to her feet. She hadn’t been lying, however. As he jostled her, she retched and was sick all over the mattress and floor.
She’d been aiming for his boots.
Cursing, he gave her a shake. “Go on, then. Get it all out. You are coming, sick or not.”
She choked and heaved several more times, but at last he got her to her feet. “Come along.” He took her by the wrist and pulled.
She stumbled after him and leaned against the door when he stopped to take up the satchel of jewels.
“Let’s go. Get out of the way.” He shoved her aside and pulled the door open. The smell of vinegar intensified, and she gagged again.
