“It is as the duke says. We had tea and he asked me to…” she groped for the right term, as ’spy’ didn’t seem like a good choice.
“Yes?”
“Be an intermediary between you two. At that time, I thought it was a good idea.”
With eyes as hard as steel, Philip said, “You are in league with him. Like I suspected from the very first.”
Arabella wanted to deny it, but a streak of guilt flashed through her. “It’s not like you think. It really isn’t.”
A muscle jumped in Philip’s cheek. “You met with him behind my back even though you knew how I’d felt about him. You were going to help him kidnap my children.”
“No!” Arabella couldn’t believe he just uttered these words. “How can you even think that!” Least of all say it out loud, in front of her brother, Lucy and his grandfather.
“I knew there was something off from the first time we met. The way you talk, the way you carry yourself. I swallowed the bag of moonshine that you’d dished me up. Of course, you’d be on his side. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”
“Mind your words, Threthewick, you are talking to my sister.” Ashmore’s ice-cold voice cut into their conversation.
Arabella felt a sword slash through her heart. “You’re wrong. I am sorry I deceived you, but I really thought at the time my identity didn’t matter. I only wanted the best for you and the children.” Her voice thickened with tears.
Philip stemmed his hands against his hips, looked at the ceiling with a bitter smile and shook his head.
“That’s what everyone says. That’s what he says.” He jerked his chin in the direction of Morley, who was listening raptly. “Because it’s in my best interest, he thought it was right to take me away from my mother. He killed her.”
Lucy gasped.
“Watch yourself. You are under my roof and I will not have my guests accused of murder,” Ashmore’s voice slashed.
Philip ignored him. “I am going to fetch my children.” He strode towards the door. “Miss Weston.” He did not meet her eyes. “You are dismissed as governess.”
He stalked out of the room.
This was the third time he’d dismissed her. It would be the last time.
Arabella wanted to run after him but caught herself in time. He thought her complicit in a ploy to kidnap his children. How could he? Howdarehe?
“You must forgive him. He has the Morley temper,” the old man said as he helped himself to a pinch of snuff from a small silver box. He offered it to Ashmore, who shook his head impatiently. “But he is right on one account.” He closed the box with a flick and sighed. “I did kill his mother.”
A clock ticked in the shocked silence.
“No doubt you will tell us the story in your own time, Duke,” Ashmore drawled, after the moment dragged out.
“Wait. Let me order some more tea.” Lucy scrambled up and rang the bell. “For fortification.” The footman brought in a tea tray. Lucy poured tea and handed a cup to the old duke.
His hand shook as he lifted the cup. He took a sip and sighed. “Ah, there is nothing like a good cup of strong tea to lift one’s spirits.”
“Something tells me they are about to get depressed again,” Lucy whispered to Arabella.
Ashmore steepled his fingers. “Morley?”
The old man cleared his throat. “My son, Edward, married a laundry maid. A gutter rat. I was livid. He did it only to spite me.”
“They might’ve fallen in love?” Lucy propped her elbows on her knees, leaning forward.
“Love! Pshaw.”
“It does happen.” She looked fondly at Ashmore, who softened and smiled, transforming his entire being.
“No. He did it because he knew it was the only way to get back at me.”
