“You may go,” he said, raising his voice. “Thank you.”
Potter gave another bow and slowly retreated, leaving Zachary alone with the letters he had surrendered. With a sickening sense of dread, he untied the ribbon holding the letters together and unfolded the missive on top.
By the time he had completed reading the pile, it was apparent to him that his brother’s widow had been having an affair with none other than Mr. Robert Ridgely, Barlowe Park’s former steward. Beatrice had been involved in a secret romance with the steward for years. But that was not all the letters revealed.
Suddenly, the gunshot that had wounded Izzy held alarming new meaning.
He had to find her.
* * *
Although she had beentired from traveling back to Barlowe Park and had intended to take a nap, Izzy had been plagued by an aching head that had rendered sleep impossible. Hoping some fresh air would prove restorative, she had decided to take a walk down the path Zachary had shown her the day he had taken her to the little falls. The air held a distinct chill, but she did not mind.
Her fur dolman kept the cold at bay as she walked the path with care, descending to the charmed place where they had made love for the first time. Strange to think how much had changed between then and now, she thought as she admired the gurgling falls.
Their honeymoon had left her happier than she had ever dared dream possible. And although they had come back to an estate desperately in need of care, they returned as a husband and wife who loved each other, and she did not doubt they could conquer any of the challenges ahead.
It was almost too good to be true, this turn her life had taken.
“Stop.”
The angry, bitter feminine voice, rising about the rushing of the water, sent shock through her. On a gasp, she spun around to find the widowed Countess of Anglesey, holding a pistol pointed directly at Izzy’s heart.
“My lady, what are you doing here?” she asked, fear arcing through her.
Zachary had sent her away, had he not? She had hoped to never see the other woman again. And now, impossibly, frighteningly, here she stood, on the path to the little falls where no one else could see them, holding a deadly weapon.
“Is it not apparent?” the other woman asked coldly. “I came here to kill you.”
Her mouth went dry, heart pounding.Dear God, what could she do? She had to escape somehow. To find help. To save herself.
“You must be mad,” she said, mind spinning with possibilities.
She could try to push past Lady Anglesey, but there was the possibility the other woman would make good on her threat and shoot her. She could scream, but that might also incite the other woman to shoot.
“I am not mad at all.” Lady Anglesey’s smile was frigid, her eyes barren. “It is only fair after what has happened. We were finally going to be happy.”
“You and Zachary?” Izzy struggled to understand the other woman’s wild ramblings. “Surely you know he never could have legally married you.”
It was against the law for a man to marry his deceased brother’s wife.
“Not him,” the widowed countess sneered. “I never wanted to marry him, not truly. I was only using him to get what I wanted. I am speaking of my Robert.”
“Robert?” Izzy was more confused than ever, which was just as well, because she knew that the longer she encouraged Lady Anglesey to speak, the more opportunity she would have for distraction and perhaps to save herself. “Who is Robert?”
“The man I love,” Lady Anglesey said. “The man I have always loved. The one my father denied me from marrying, and the man your husband has imprisoned.”
Understanding dawned. Could it be the countess was speaking of the steward who had been stealing funds from Barlowe Park?
“The steward,” she said, taking a tentative step in retreat on the path, hoping she might edge away from the woman. Perhaps take her chances and run into the thick woods to escape.
“You know of him.” The countess’s hand trembled, her eyes narrowing. “Do not move, or I will shoot you now, right here where you stand.”
Shoot her now or later, what was the difference? Izzy held still, her mind frantically working, trying to find another means of saving herself.
“I know he was stealing from Barlowe Park,” she said, hoping to continue distracting the countess. “That is why he has been imprisoned.”
“He was merely taking what was owed to him,” the countess countered. “Anglesey paid him a pittance all these years. Scarcely enough to live. We were going to go to America together, you know. We almost had enough funds. And then your husband suddenly decided he wanted to get married and take up residence at Barlowe Park.”
