The new countess seemed to think Evangeline in possession of a dangerous secret. Just as obvious was the substance of that secret. But how could Evangeline prove it?
If Francine followed through on her threat to provide false witness against Gavin—and Evangeline had no doubt she would do so—Francine’s prediction as to which one of them would be believed would no doubt come true.
There had to be some way to prove Francine’s presence in Lord Heatherbrook’s bedchamber. If not, Evangeline should at least be able to determine a motive so heinous the others would be forced to believe her. Was the simple fact of inheriting strong enough?
Francine was leaving in the next few minutes. Whatever Evangeline was going to do, she needed to act quickly. She needed clues. She needed information. Who would be the most likely to know other secrets Francine Rutherford might be keeping?
Susan.
Evangeline raced up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, dashed down the corridor to the guest wing, and vaulted into Susan’s bedchamber.
“Bloody hell, Evangeline. Could you wait until my maid finishes lacing up my gown?”
“No.” Evangeline grabbed Susan’s gloved hands in hers. “Francine Rutherford killed Lord Heatherbrook.”
Both Susan and her maid stared at her, mouths agape.
Susan found her voice first. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Francine killed him. I need your help proving it. Fast.”
“How can I help? I had no idea.”
“But you know other things, don’t you? She slapped you for spreading lies, but—were they?”
Susan stepped backward and smoothed the lace of her bodice. “No. I stupidly spread the truth.”
“Just so. You know her better than me. Why would she do it?”
“How the hell would I know?” Susan began to pace around her bedchamber. “I thought she was still in love with him.”
“Still in love with—” Evangeline gaped at her. “But isn’t she married to his brother?”
“Biggest mistake of her life. Well, unless you count killing Heatherbrook.”
“Francine Rutherford was in love with Lord Heatherbrook,” Evangeline said slowly, trying to replay the moments she’d seen them interact.
“Madly,” Susan confirmed. “Emphasis onmad. She made a cake of herself over him for years. Gave him some sort of ultimatum. Should’ve known better, with a bounder like Heatherbrook. He responded by turning his attentions to another woman. Rumor has it Francine accepted Benedict’s proposal in an attempt to make Heatherbrook jealous, but as he made no attempt to win her back, she was forced to go through with the wedding.”
Evangeline frowned. “This all sounds like ancient history, though.”
Susan nodded. “It is. I was a child at the time.”
“Then why did she slap you that day at the opera house if her unrequited love and ill-advised marriage were both common knowledge?”
“Because the details of her extramarital affairs were not.” Susan’s cheeks colored. “Oraffair,rather. With Heatherbrook, of course. Her husband’s brother. I happened to glimpse him with his hand down her bodice deep inside the Dark Walk one night at Vauxhall. He got rid of her gown faster than any lady’s maidI’veseen.”
“You spied on them lovemaking?” Evangeline asked incredulously.
“Of course not. There wasn’t time. I ducked behind a bush. Not long after, I heard footsteps approaching, so I had to sneak out of there. But before I did, I heard her tell him if she were lucky, he could provide her with the one thing her husband could not.”
“How did she knowyouspread the rumors?”
“The footsteps turned out to be her husband’s. He was calling for her, afraid she’d been set upon by footpads. Heatherbrook went one way, she another. Unfortunately for me, the direction she chose coincided with the bush I was hiding behind.”
“Criminy, Susan.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have stumbled across them if they hadn’t been up to mischief.”
