Virtue retrieved the calling card, recognizing the flowery script of the visitor in question immediately.
Countess of Carr.
Something inside her froze, her instinctive reaction to deny her ladyship. It would not be the first time in her tenure as duchess where she had pleadednot at home. However, doing so, refusing a call from the woman after the valiant defense Trevor had given on Virtue’s behalf at the Torrington Ball, seemed akin to admitting fear.
And she had nothing to fear from Lady Carr. Trevor loved Virtue. She loved him. They were married. The countess was a bitter remnant of his former life, and Virtue had not been a part of that.
Clutching the card, she raised her chin, forcing a smile to her lips. “You may see her in, Ames.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” With another bow, the butler took his leave.
She had a few moments to rise and prepare herself for the unwanted arrival of her caller, taking care to hide the book beneath a pillow, lest Lady Carr spy the title and spread idle gossip.
Lady Carr appeared, looking elegant and lovely as she had the evening before, if a trifle pale. She was still wearing her pelisse, which was a rare shade of not quite blue, yet not truly green, that matched her eyes. A reticule hung from her gloved wrist, catching Virtue’s attention for a moment as the other woman swirled into the drawing room.
“Your Grace,” the countess greeted, dipping into a mocking curtsy. “You have my gratitude for seeing me this morning.”
It was a most unusual hour for calling, but Virtue did not remark upon it.
She remained unsmiling. “My lady, I decided to give you the dignity of an audience, however I cannot think we have anything to say to each other after last evening.”
“Indeed?” A small, odd smile pulled up the corners of Lady Carr’s lips. “I can think of a great many things.”
With that pronouncement, she slowly and methodically pulled at the drawstring of her reticule, reaching inside. When her gloved hand extracted a small pistol, Virtue could not suppress her gasp. Her first reaction was to flee, but Lady Carr was prepared.
She raised her pistol, training the barrel upon Virtue with eerie calm. “Do not move, whore.”
The drawing room door was yet open, but Hunt House was frightfully vast. Virtue’s heart pounded as she wondered if anyone would hear her scream. Would Lady Carr shoot? Where were the bodyguards who had been stationed about? But then, she supposed none of them would have anticipated a countess, the widow of a peer of the realm, paying a call to also be carrying a weapon.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, taking care to remain still as she sought to make a plan for her escape.
Surely someone would come looking for her, perhaps even a maid passing in the hall, and alert others? Oh, if only Trevor had not left for an early-morning appointment with his old friends Mr. Tierney and Mr. Sutton. He would know what to do in a time of crisis such as this, she felt certain.
“I want you to pay for marrying him,” Lady Carr snarled. “What did you do to force his hand? Tell me now, or I’ll shoot.”
The countess’s hand trembled, the only outward show of emotion, save rage.
Virtue swallowed hard. “I did nothing to force his hand, nor to take him away from you. Ridgely parted with you before I arrived in London.”
“You have bewitched him,” the countess accused, seeming not to have heard Virtue’s denial. “That is the only explanation. He would never leave me for you. Look at you, a plain, ugly crow when he could have a swan instead. Yes, you are evil, and you deserve to be punished.”
“Punished how?” Virtue cast a longing glance toward the door, knowing that extending the conversation between herself and the mad countess was her only chance to survive.
“Killed.” Lady Carr sneered. “I’ll kill you first, and then I’ll kill him, too. Where is he? He’s mine and no one else can have him. I warned him when he left me that if I couldn’t have him, no one could. He would have been dead before he married you if that fool hadn’t broken his own neck.”
Good God, the woman was a Bedlamite. She had been behind the attempts on Trevor’s life.
“H-he is not at home,” Virtue managed, grateful that Trevor’s life could be spared, even if hers could not.
“Don’t lie,” Lady Carr snapped, the pistol wavering in her grip. “I know he is here. Where else should he go at this hour of the morning?”
The timing of Lady Carr’s call made sense now as well. She had planned this. Had planned to kill them both.
“He isn’t here,” she repeated, trying to keep her voice calm, soothing. “Please, Lady Carr. Calm yourself. I understand that you are overset—”
“Overset,” the other woman screeched, interrupting her attempt. “I am furious, you stupid slut. Enough talking. Take me to him. If you say a word to any of the servants, I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?”
Fear held her immobile, before she nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
