He took out a sheet of paper then and laid it down before her. It outlined the transgressions of Mr Elliott MacDonald and Wilhelmina’s inappropriate behaviour with him in the days following the death of her husband. She wondered where Simon St Claire could have got such private information but everything on the sheet was true, so she stayed silent. This was a form of blackmail, a threat to expose her behaviour to the world should she not do as he wanted.
He then showed her another letter. This one was crudely signed at the bottom by one of the gardeners employed at Belton Park.
‘This man, Mr Trevor Dell, says that he saw you shove my cousin away from you. He was in the garden at the time and, hearing shouts, he looked up. He said Lionel’s last words were, “Your fault” as he fell. He presumed it to mean that his wife, Mrs Wilhelmina St Claire, had pushed him to his death.’
Then he took out a further list and laid it down in front of her. On it were the times the carriage of the Earl of Elmsworth hadvisited her town house across the past week as well as the times she had visited his town house.
He had been watching her house and her movements from some vantage point, or perhaps he had had others do it for him. But he was not yet finished with his insults.
‘You take men and twist them into puppets to do exactly as you will, with no mind at all for decency or morality. Well, your schemes are finished, madam, and I will shout out your debauchery and evil from every rooftop in London if you do not sign the rights of Belton Park back to my family, an act that ought to have happened when my cousin died.’
When she looked down she saw the ownership deed, even as he laid a pen and an ink pot down for her to sign it with.
‘Our family land was never supposed to be yours. It should have always been protected, given you could not provide suitable heirs to ensure its safety.’ His voice was rough and full of impatience.
Willa thought of Phillip Moreland and what he would think of her. She thought of those moments with him that had been like Heaven. She thought of his hurt and of the ways this would hurt him further. She thought of how she would be cut from London Society forever if even just a whiff of all this got out.
‘If I sign this I would need proof that this would be the end of your blackmail. Lionel’s falling was an accident only. He was an abusive man, so when Elliott MacDonald offered some kindness to me after my husband’s death I took it.’
She said nothing of Phillip Moreland. That was all she could do to protect him. She knew ruin was like dropping a pebble in the middle of a still pond and that the rings of wreckage would get bigger and bigger. She could not drag the Earl of Elmsworth into the melee of the disaster that she had created. But she could not trust Simon St Claire either as she needed time to get her affairs into order.
‘I need a month to vacate my rented town house and leave. Come back to me after that time and I will sign the transfer of Belton Park into your hands and leave London for good. But I will only do that if you keep these accusations to yourself and I am left alone. I do not wish for further threats of exposure and if you do not agree to such terms then you risk years of this matter dragging through the legal channels, and believe me I will fight the charges.’
He looked so angry Willa thought he might hit her, but she stood her ground and said nothing else and finally he nodded, collected his papers and left.
The horror of everything began to hit her. If she could not disprove these claims, could she be hung for the murder of her husband? Or be banished to prison for years?
She had to keep the allegations out of the public domain in any way she could and Simon St Claire’s greed was the only route that was possible.
One month. One month to leave her old life and to try to shield Phillip from the awfulness of her past.
Phillip came to her later that evening, as he had meetings in the city with his lawyers.
She was in the little blue salon just off the front entrance when she heard his voice and, standing up, she waited for him to reach for her, all his safety and strength gathering her in.
Protection.
It was a feeling she had never known before and she closed her eyes and leant against him, relief rising from the worry.
‘You are back.’ She tipped her head to accept his kiss. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Just for you.’
It felt so good to laugh even amidst all the danger of what would come. Untying her nightgown, she let it fall to the floor. Underneath she wore nothing but her skin.
This time she made the first move, running her hand across his cheek and then pulling at the tails of his neck cloth. He went to help her but she stopped him.
‘It’s my turn.’
When the tie was gone she undid the buttons of his shirt, one by one.
‘Can I take it off?’
He looked almost uncertain before he nodded, and she pushed the sleeves across his arms and it fell to the floor. Three strips of scarred flesh wrapped across the top of his arm and then curled down his back. This was what he had tried to hide on all the other nights, though she had felt the ridges in the darkness.
‘They are knife wounds.’
‘Why?’
