Lord Westford’s left-handed wife was unremarkable, Kendra thought, but revised that opinion when the lady smiled. There was something winsome in the curve of her lips that invited shared laughter, a light in her eyes that indicated kindness.
Or maybe her smile stood out because it was in stark contrast to Lord Westford’s hostile glower.
“Good morning. Lord Sutcliffe, isn’t it?” Mrs. O’Leary had a lovely, musical voice. She dipped into a pretty little curtsy, her sparkling hazel eyes cutting over to include Kendra as she rose. “And Lady Sutcliffe. Forgive me for being so bold as to force an introduction; I am Mrs. O’Leary.”
The woman thread her arm through Lord Westford’s.A united front.
“Heather,” Lord Westford muttered, half embarrassed.
Mrs. O’Leary ignored him. Keeping the smile pinned to her face, she gestured toward the two pale yellow Chippendale sofas facing each other. “Let’s sit, shall we? I hear congratulations are in order.” They did so, and her pale fingers plucked at her skirt, carefully arranging the material around her. “Westford tells me that you were recently wed.”
Alec nodded. “Yes, a few days ago.”
“He also told me about this terrible business with Lady Westford.” She pressed a hand to her chest as she glanced first at Alec, then at Kendra. “Westford would never harm his wife. I cannot bear anyone thinking him such a fiend.”
“Heather—”
She patted his hand. “No, Westford. We must discuss this. I sent the children to the schoolroom, so we shan’t be disturbed. When we heard the news, Westford thought . . . well, we both thought Lady Westford had done something dreadful.”
Kendra eyed the woman curiously, then looked to Westford. “Why? Did your wife say anything to make you think that she was depressed? Suicidal?”
“No.” He frowned a bit uncertainly. “At least, I don’t think so. Grace was, as I already told you, preoccupied.”
“You never saw her weeping?”
“No.”
“She never indicated to you that she was afraid?”
“Afraid?” Now he looked baffled. “Afraid of what?”
“Maybe of you,” Kendra said bluntly, studying him closely.
The earl sucked in a shocked breath. “Balderdash! I—”
“Was overheard threatening to kill your wife after you learned about her involvement with Mr. Goldsten,” Kendra interjected. “Why don’t you tell us about that?”
“I . . . well, for God’s sakes, I didn’t mean itliterally. Grace and I had a cordial relationship. If you must know, I was quite fond of her.” He licked his lips nervously. “I would never kill her! What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Mrs. O’Leary laid a comforting hand on the earl’s arm, locking her steady gaze on Kendra. “Lady Westford has had several liaisons over the years once the line was secured, and Westford voiced no objections.”
“Until Lady Westford’s affair with Mr. Goldsten.”
“Well, of course!” Westford exploded. “He’s aJew! Who would not be upset? Especially when I was being made sport of!”
Mrs. O’Leary patted his arm again, but kept her gaze on Kendra’s face. “Lord Crawford approached Westford about it one evening while he was at White’s,” she explained. “He taunted Westford in the most insulting way. Odious man! ’Tis little wonder Westford was distraught about the situation. He spoke unthinkingly.”
“Did you ever talk to your wife about her relationship with Mr. Goldsten?” Kendra asked.
“Of course!” Westford’s chest swelled in his indignation. “I told Grace that she needed to end it quickly. Not only for the Westford name, mind you, but also because she had a duty to the Queen as her lady-in-waiting. I can’t imagine Her Royal Highness being tolerant of the relationship either.”
Alec’s green eyes were cool as he regarded the earl. “I wouldn’t be too certain of that, Westford. Our Queen is an intelligent woman, and well aware that it was Nathan Mayer von Rothschild who funded Wellington’s campaign against the French. We ought to thank God that he was on our side, not Napoleon’s.”
Westford’s face reddened, but he waved his hand dismissively. “I think we would’ve won the war regardless, my lord.”
“Doubtful,” Alec countered drily. “Every war needs to be financed, its troops funded. Soldiers are always full of patriotism, love of God and country when wars begin, but without food in their bellies, fresh horses and ammunition, armies fall, campaigns fail.”
Westford scowled, his chin lifting at a mutinous angle, but he didn’t reply.
