“What’s to tell?” Wiltshire squirmed, his body gently swaying. “Please, my shoulders ache so.”
This milksop knew nothing of pain. Charles wanted him to feel some of what he’d given to Cassie. Even just a fraction of her pain would cripple this man.
But it wouldn’t ease Cassie’s hurt. Pain wasn’t transferable. If Wiltshire shouldered some of the burden it wouldn’t relieve Cassie’s own. Once Wiltshire spilled his secrets, and he would, inflicting further hurt on him would serve no good purpose.
A part of Charles still wanted to inflict it.
“Get that first weight, will you?” He pointed, and Walter picked it up and handed it over.
Charles knelt and tied it about Wiltshire’s swinging ankles.
The man yelped.
“The pain will only increase.” His father would have an apoplexy if he could see to what purpose Charles had put the scale where they weighed their grain.
“I hardly knew the girl,” Wiltshire shouted. A bit of spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “We flirted. I tupped her. That was it.”
“But that wasn’t it, was it?” Hereford pushed off of the beam and prowled their way. “You left her with a babe in her belly. And with your political ambitions, you couldn’t allow your indiscretions to be known.”
“I would have denied it.” Wiltshire jerked his body. “No one would have believed her.”
Charles considered. The people who knew the earl would have believed it. Would it have ended the power he held in the House? Perhaps not.
Wiltshire smiled at Hereford. “You know how it is. Women are so eager to be with a title they basically jump into your bed. How’s a man to refuse?”
“But this woman didn’t care about your title. She wanted your heart.” Charles hadn’t known Lydia. He kept seeing Cassie’s face when he thought of her. Imagined Cassie waiting at the fountain, feeling the betrayal and panic when her lover’s hands choked her instead of caressed. “She thought she had it.”
Wiltshire spat. “Yes, she was pretty, but so stupid. She actually thought I’d marry her.” He laughed, his look inviting Hereford to join in.
When Hereford didn’t, the light faded from Wiltshire’s gaze. “I didn’t know she was with child. I just thought she was becoming overly attached.”
“Would it have made a difference had you known?” Charles growled.
Wiltshire didn’t answer.
“I keep thinking about the mark on the girl’s neck. The one made by a man’s signet ring.” Hereford picked up an abandoned crate and began carving. His knife gouged a rough arc into the wood. “It looked like a crescent moon.” He examined it before tossing the crate at Wiltshire.
It bounced off the man’s chest, making him whimper.
“But now that I think on it,” Hereford continued, “I think it’s the wing of a bird. Of a falcon.”
“What’s the significance of that?” Cyrus asked.
“It’s the Wiltshire crest. A falcon with a snake in its mouth.” Hereford flicked his knife closed and slid it back inside his boot. “I’ve received post from that house with that very same crest stamped into the wax.”
Charles inhaled sharply. He looked at the man’s hand, but it was bare of rings. “After Miss Moore, Miss Cassandra Moore, started asking questions, you tried to stop her. You skulked out of the coffeehouse while she spoke to your friends and then followed her to the alley and attacked her.”
His body quivered with rage. Charles better understood how Cassie had felt, wanting to inflict her own personal version of revenge on this man. Charles wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“I swear, I didn’t do that.” Wiltshire stared at them wildly. “I’m not the only one with that ring. My brother also—”
Cyrus loosed a bark of laughter. “Now he’s implicating his family, too.”
“I swear.” Wiltshire implored Charles. “I’ve never hurt a woman. And I’ve never even worn that ring. My father gave it to all his sons, but it’s ugly and garish. I gave it away the moment I became earl.”
Charles tilted his head. The man’s desperation carried with it a ring of truth. The earl had hurt plenty of women, but Charles just couldn’t imagine this fop laying hands on one of them. “Who?” he demanded. “Who did you give your ring to?”
“I give so many things away,” the earl babbled. “Little tokens to make people feel indebted, you understand.”
