“His Grace is a strong man,” she admitted grudgingly.
And her mind could not help but to recall just how strong.Traitorous mind.Thoughts of him at his exercises, without a shirt, his bare chest on display, rose.
“He is a considerate man as well, if you do not mind my saying so, madam,” Primrose opined, removing a light-blue morning gown from the wardrobe and laying it out with care.
Pippa watched her lady’s maid’s movements, feeling bereft. “I do not mind.”
But she did. Did she not?
This was the Duke of Northwich they spoke of. The man she had almost married.
The man she was thinking of marrying once more, in her desperation.
Nothing made sense.
“He never would have brought such menace down upon you, I know it,” Primrose added, returning to Pippa’s side.
“You are suggesting Mr. Shaw did?” she asked sharply.
Primrose paled. “Forgive me, madam. I misspoke.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly, for vehemence caused nothing but more pain in her current state. She had already learned her lesson. “I want you to tell me, Primrose. Why did you say the Duke of Northwich would not bring menace down upon me just now?”
Pippa had most certainly not shared the existence of the letters she had discovered with the household. No one knew of George’s sins except for Northwich, Tilly, Mr. Hastings, and Chief Inspector Stone, along with Scotland Yard. To the best of Pippa’s knowledge, the domestics had all been told that the intruders had been ordinary thieves.
“I…” Primrose’s face went paler still as she fumbled for words. “It was not my intention to suggest anything, madam.”
“No, Primrose,” Pippa said. “I do not accept this. You must explain yourself, and please know that I wish for your honesty. There is nothing you can say that will induce my displeasure toward you. Your position is safe. All I want is your candor. After everything that has happened in the last fortnight, I hope you will grant me it.”
Her lady’s maid’s lips thinned. “Of course, madam. I will be honest, as you ask of me. Belowstairs, everyone is talking about the intruders having something to do with Mr. Shaw. He had a reputation, of course.”
A reputation?
This was the first she had heard of it.
“What reputation?” she asked, almost not wishing to hear the explanation.
Her stomach swam with a sick sense of anticipation as Primrose appeared to gather her thoughts.
“Mr. Shaw was not an honorable man, madam. It was no secret to anyone here except…” Primrose averted her gaze in the direction of the looking glass and dressing table. “Shall I brush your hair this morning? I do not suppose you would wish for me to do so given the blow you took to the head.”
But Pippa would not accept such a blatant change of subject. Not when her lady’s maid had been about to say that everyone in the household had known George was a scoundrel except forher.
“Except me,” Pippa guessed. “That is what you were going to say, is it not? That everyone here knew Mr. Shaw was not honorable except for me.”
Primrose swallowed. Blinked. Took her time in forming a response. When it finally arrived, it was simple.
Devastating.
“Yes,” she said. “I do expect Mr. Shaw showed you a different face than he revealed to others.”
“Why?” Pippa asked, needing to know. “Tell me, Primrose. Please. I must understand. It is very important.”
More important than she could say.
“You did not know, madam?” Primrose asked, frowning ferociously.
And the sick sense in Pippa’s stomach only intensified and grew, in the fashion of a poisonous bloom.
