“He may have done so,” Roland allowed, not bothering to pretend for a moment that he believed it likely. “However, if the criminal in question did indeed begin with Mr. Shaw’s study, that begs several questions. Not just why, but also whether or not he will return. And what shall happen then? Will the brigand stop at merely pushing you to the floor? What of your innocent daughter? Do you dare take her life into your hands in such callous fashion?”
Perhaps it was wrong of him to tug at Pippa’s heartstrings. To use her own daughter against her. He had no evidence to suggest tonight’s intruder had been after something from George Shaw save his own suspicion. But he had even less proof the fellow would try it again, having been caught once.
The breath left her. A long sigh.
“I do not know what to do.”
“Yes,” he countered, “you do. That is why you are here, Mrs. Shaw.”
And damn it, but that lastMrs. Shawstuck on his tongue as if it were a barb.
“I will leave in the morning,” she said.
He nodded. “As you like, my dear.”
“And I must speak to your housekeeper directly. You shall not be an intermediary.” Her eyes narrowed. “I must have your promise that our chambers will be on a different floor, nowhere in proximity to yours.”
A small, bitter smile curved his lips. This was where they were after those stolen kisses at Haddon House. Still strangers. Still enemies.
A momentary ceasefire. That was all this pax between them was.
Fair enough.
He offered her a slight bow. “Whatever you desire, Mrs. Shaw, shall be yours.”
Pity it would never be him.
Chapter 6
Pippa had scarcely slept.
Dawn was slipping through the curtains. Ordinarily, she found the morning light golden and promising. Today, it hardly seemed so. She was in a strange room. Her life as she had known it had been torn asunder. George had been lying to her for perhaps the entirety of their union. The Duke of Northwich, once her sworn enemy, had become her temporary haven.
Nothing made sense.
She rose from the bed where she had spent the night in fitful tossing and turning. Not because the mattress was not plush and comfortable. Not because the bed linens were not fresh and of the finest quality, smooth and cool against her bare calves beneath the hem of her night rail, which had been delivered to her by her lady’s maid after Northwich sent his carriage back to her abandoned townhome.
Quite the opposite, in fact. But of course, everything related to the Duke of Northwich would only be thebest. It would seem he had profited off his endeavors.
Charlotte was sleeping soundly in a cot beside her bed. Pippa’s bare feet shuffled along the sumptuous Axminster, with its navy background and pink roses. She did not require the light to know the pattern, for she had taken note last night. The carpets were new and lush, the wool thick and lustrous. She was not certain why the pattern on the Duke of Northwich’s carpet should be so emblazoned upon her mind, and yet, it was.
Perhaps it was because the carpet, like the chamber, like the bed in which she had fitfully slept, like the townhome, belonged to him. To the Duke of Northwich.
How strange it felt, being here. In her frenzy of fear the night before, after seeing the darkened windows of Haddon House, she had somehow decided upon the duke. Why, she still could not say. Not entirely.
After what he had done to her own brother and to George, how could she truly trust Northwich, despite Tilly’s claims about him? George may have kept the source of his income from her, and that income may have been achieved by nefarious—even criminal—means, but he had never swindled anyone.
Had he?
What if hehad?
And what if everything George and Worthington had told her about Northwich had been a lie? But that made little sense. What cause would her brother have had to deceive her?
Pippa frowned as she hovered over their daughter, who slept so peacefully, unaware of the tumult surrounding her. Char-char had rather enjoyed the novelty of sleeping in a new chamber and sharing it with her mother. Her chestnut curls were a wild halo about her head, and small lips parted as she emitted a tiny snore.
Surely Pippa would have discovered George’s treachery before now if he had indeed been involved in anything like the Duke of Northwich. Selling fraudulent railroad stocks to George, threatening to take Wardley Abbey from her brother Worthington if he did not repay the loan Northwich had granted him…these were the actions of a ruthless man. And all because Northwich had wanted to marry Pippa and gain Wardley Abbey for himself since it was not part of the entail. He had attempted to destroy George and Worthington financially. Thankfully, George had been able to aid Worthington himself, and he had not invested all his money in the duke’s fraudulent schemes.
Oh, what had she been thinking in coming here? Northwich was no better than George had been, deceiving and manipulating, making everyone around him into a pawn to gain what he wanted. He was ruthless and cunning and…
