Heavens!
For a moment, Sibyl almost gave in, until footsteps above reminded her that they were still in Kerrington House, that she was now a widowed countess, and that he was a duke whose motives did not add up.
Reluctantly, she stepped back and turned her head away. Without another word, she walked deeper into the house, trying to put the Duke out of her mind.
“Lady Kerrington, Lord Ferdinand has arrived.”
Sibyl looked up from the paperwork she had found in Edmund’s study. Most of it was correspondence she didn’t understand, but she tried to find clues in it as to why he would have gone to the Finchwood, or even taken laudanum, or done the thingshe had done.
Alas, she had come up empty, and it had already been a full night and a strange breakfast since she had seen her husband’s dead body.
“Lord Ferdinand?” she echoed, dread pooling in her stomach.
Banwick nodded, his face grim. “He is very insistent on seeing you in the drawing room.”
Sibyl nodded slowly, rising from the couch in the parlor, and went to the drawing room, where Edmund’s auburn-haired brother was pacing agitatedly.
As soon as she entered, he rounded on her, pointing an accusatory finger.
“You,” he hissed. “You ruined my brother’s life ever since the day he married you! We were warned about the Wicklebys and their cursed scandals, but did Edmund ever listen to me? No! He thought himself above my advice, for I am the youngest, but now he—now my brother is dead because ofyou.”
“Ferdinand.”
“LordFerdinand.”
“We are family,” she said smoothly, sounding much more confident than she felt. “Ferdinand, I do not appreciate you coming into this grieving space, spewing accusations?—”
“Grieving space.” Ferdinand’s face twisted. “Do not pretend that you are grieving, Sibyl. You ruined my brother with your coldness. He would not have had to take mistresses had you just done your wifely duties.”
“How dare?—”
“And then he got himself into debt! No doubt chasing every escape he could from the unhappy marriage you forced him into. And now he is dead.”
His cheeks were flushed, and he could not stay still, endlessly pacing back and forth, only pausing to point at Sibyl while she desperately tried to keep her composure.
I did not ask for this. I did not ask for any of this.
And yet the blame had fallen on her.
She did not know what to do.
“None of this has been my fault,” she argued, exhaustion and distress making her words as sharp as a whip. She balled her hands into fists, staring down her brother-in-law, who regarded her with so much disdain. “You will not even listen?—”
“Of course I will not!” he shouted. “I do not need to hear your excuses. A lady should be enough for her husband, but you were not, Lady Kerrington. He should never have married you. I do not know why he did. Whether it was pity, or delusion, or?—”
“I did not ask.”
“And yet you agreed!” Ferdinand roared.
Sibyl’s vision swam. She thought of the argument she had had with her mother the day Edmund had proposed, how she had almost begged her mother not to force her to agree. But Edmund had been kind enough, dependable, and a safe option.
“Well, Lord Kerrington is no duke, unlike your sisters’ husbands, but his proposal has come with far less scandal, so I can overlook it,”her mother had said.
Ferdinand exhaled and adjusted his cufflinks, and Sibyl pushed away the memory of finding Edmund’s dead body in that room last night. Her breath sawed in and out of her, painful and labored.
“Now that I am the Earl of Kerrington,” Ferdinand said slowly, and her eyes snapped back to him, “you are not to receive a single penny from my family or me. Heavens knows you must have drained Edmund’s coffers, so I am only glad I come with my own. Coffers you will see nothing of. Not you or your wretch.”
“My…” Sibyl saw red. “Howdare?—”
