“He kept coming after you,” Jocelyn said quietly. “Why was he coming after you in the first place? Because he had caught you stealing?”
“Oh, that nonsense,” she said contemptuously. “He was going to ravish me.”
“AtCandleford?” His voice was sharp. “At his father’s home? His father’s ward?”
“They were gone,” she told him, “the earl and countess. They had left for a few days.”
“Leaving you alone with Jardine?”
“And with an elderly relative as chaperone.” She laughed. “She likes her port, does Cousin Emily. And she likes Sidney too—likedSidney, that is.” There was an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. “He got her drunk and sent her off early to bed. There were only a few of his friends there that evening and his own servants.”
“The friends did not defend you?” he asked. “And were not to be depended upon to tell the truth in an investigation into the death of Jardine?”
“They were all inebriated,” she said. “They were urging him on.”
“Was he not afraid,” Jocelyn asked, “of the consequences of ravishing you after his father had returned?”
“I suppose,” she said, “he counted upon my being too ashamed to say anything. He counted upon my meekly agreeing to marry him. And it would have been the earl’s solution even if I had told. It is what they both wanted and had urged upon me ceaselessly until I almostwasready to go at them both with an ax.”
“A reluctant bride,” he said. “Yes, that would appeal to Jardine. Especially when she is as lovely as a golden goddess. I am not well acquainted with Durbury, though I did not find myself warming to him this morning. Why did you steal and run away and go into hiding under an alias and make yourself look as guilty as sin? It seems uncharacteristic of Jane Ingleby. But then she does not exist, does she?”
“I took fifteen pounds,” she said. “In the year and a half since my father’s death, the earl had given me no allowance. There was nothing on which to spend money at Candleford, he told me. I believe he owed me far more than fifteen pounds. The bracelet was my father’s wedding gift to my mother. Mama gave it to me on her deathbed, but I asked Papa to keep it in the safe with all the other family jewelry. The earl had always refused to give it to me or to acknowledge it as mine. I knew the combination of the safe.”
“Foolish of him,” Jocelyn said, “not to have thought of that.”
“I was not running away,” she said. “I had had enough of them all. I came to London to stay with Lady Webb, my mama’s dearest friend and my godmother. Lord Webb was to have been my guardian jointly with my father’s cousin, the new earl, but he died and I suppose Papa did not think of having someone else appointed. Lady Webb was not at home and not expected back soon. That was when I panicked. I started to realize that Sidney might have been badly hurt, that he might even have died. I realized how the taking of the money and the bracelet would be construed. I realized that none of the witnesses was likely to tell the truth. I realized I might be in deep trouble.”
“All the deeper,” he said, “for your decision to become a fugitive.”
“Yes.”
“Was there no one at Candleford or in its neighborhood to stand your friend?” he asked.
“My father’s cousin is the earl,” she explained. “Sidney is—was—his heir. There was no one powerful enough to shield me, and my dearest friend was from home in Somersetshire on an extended visit with his sister.”
“He?”The question was asked with soft emphasis.
“Charles,” she said. “Sir Charles Fortescue.”
“Your friend?” he said. “And beau?”
She looked up at him for the first time in several minutes. Shock was beginning to recede. He had no business interrogating her. She was under no obligation to answer him. She was merely his ex-mistress. And she had no intention of accepting any pay for the past week and a half or of taking with her any of the clothes he had bought her.
“And beau,” she replied steadily. “We were to marry, but not for a long time. I am not permitted to marry without the earl’s consent until I am five and twenty. We would have married on my twenty-fifth birthday.”
“But will not now do so?” He had his glass to his eye again, but Jane would not be cowed by it. She continued to look steadily at him. “He will not fancy marrying a murderess, Lady Sara? How unsporting of him. And he will not marry a fallen woman? How unchivalrous.”
“Iwill not marry him,” she said firmly.
“Quite right too,” he said briskly. “The laws of our land prohibit bigamy, Lady Sara.”
Shewishedhe would not keep calling her that.
“Bigamy?” Had Charles met and married someone else? she thought foolishly without even stopping to wonder how she expected the Duke of Tresham to know that fact even if it were true.
“Sir Charles Fortescue,” he said coldly, “would not be permitted by law to marry my wife. One hopes, I suppose, that his heart will not be broken, though I have not noticed him rushing about London, moving heaven and earth to find you and clasp you to his bosom. One hopes, perhaps, thatyourheart will not be broken, though frankly I cannot say that I much care.”
Jane was on her feet.
