“Why do we have to leave?” she burst out. “I need to be at the estate—to help Wick. Why won’t Ambrose give me a chance to explain things?”
“Do not blame your brother,” Marianne said sharply. “He’s trying to minimize the scandal you’ve caused. The whole party is abuzz with how Carlisle has ruined you, and the longer the two of you are under the same roof, the bigger this disaster is going to get. Even with Emma and Thea staying to control the damage, there’s no telling if you’ll have any reputation left after this.”
“Right now, my reputation is the least of my worries—”
“If you don’t think of yourself, think of Ambrose.” Her sister-in-law expelled a breath. “Do not test your brother, Violet. If you force his hand, hewillcall Carlisle out.”
Horror and shame collided in Vi. By Golly, she’d made a hash of things. The truth was that, even if Ambrose was willing to listen, she didn’t knowhowshe could explain her scandalous behavior.
Although she’d always been a creature ruled by impulses, her sudden arousal had taken her entirely by surprise, a storm without any warning. One moment she’d been angry at Richard’s unfounded accusations… and the next they were kissing… and more.
Even now, a bewildering hum of lust lingered in her—which made no sense given the enormity of the disaster that had befallen those she loved. Her throat cinched. Wick had been dragged away in chains, his future hanging precariously in the balance. Richard had been left alone to deal with the mess, and, if her present exile was any indication, Ambrose might try to separate her and Richard for good.
“It’s not Richard’s fault,” she said desperately. “I was a full participant.”
“To what are you referring to, precisely? The concealing of evidence,”—Marianne’s brows arched— “or your public ruination?”
“Um, both?” Vi said in a small voice. “He took responsibility because he’s a man of honor, but I wanted to protect Wick as much as he did—”
“And so you lied to your brother. Through your actions, you not only betrayed Ambrose’s trust, but you put his professional integrity and reputation at risk.” Her sister-in-law’s face tautened with disapproval. “If word ever got out that a member of his own family sabotaged a murder enquiry, how do you think that would make him look?”
There goes the idiot sister again, making a mull of things…Only it wasn’t some prank this time, some silly scrape. She’d caused a true and utter catastrophe.
Hanging her head, Violet whispered, “I’m sorry. I was only trying to do the right thing. I never intended to deceive Ambrose for as long as I did. At first, I just wanted to find out the truth from Wick before going to Ambrose with the ring… but then Magistrate Jones entered the picture, and I knew he wouldn’t be the type to listen to Wick’s explanations, not when the evidence seemed so damning. And I knew if I told Ambrose about Wick’s ring, he’d feel duty-bound to tell Jones—and I didn’t want to put him in a bad position. So, in a way, I was trying to protect Ambrose too,” she finished miserably.
“Oh, Violet, your brother is perfectly capable of making the right decisions.” Some of the chill left Marianne’s voice. “Now you must trust him to do the right thing.”
“Wick didn’t kill Monique. Iknowhe didn’t—not only because he’s my friend but because he wasn’t even at the house. He was out drinking and passed out in the woodcutter’s cottage. Why, he didn’t even know Monique had died until Richard and I told him the next evening. Please,” Vi pleaded, “you’ve got to convince Ambrose to keep looking for the true murderer. Or an innocent man is going to hang.”
A notch formed between Marianne’s brows. “Ambrose is the best investigator in all of London. You must trust his judgement.”
“I do. I know now that I made a grievous mistake in not trusting him from the start,” Vi said earnestly. “But I can’t change what I did, and once Ambrose calms down, considers all the evidence and clues, he’ll know that Wick isn’t the criminal. And he’d hate himself if he played any part in the wrong man being convicted—”
“Say no more.” Sighing, Marianne said, “We’ll be staying overnight at the nearest inn, and I’ll write him a note then.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“Thank me by not causing any more trouble this trip, all right?”
~~~
With his head in his hands, Richard sat on his bed, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts.
What should I do next? How can I help Wick? Win Violet back?
The sounds of chatter and bustling came from the hallway. Gossip was running rampant with news of Violet’s ruination and Wick’s arrest for murder. With the case closed, many of the guests were making preparations for departure the next morning. Apparently, they’d had enough of the house party from hell.
Fear churned in Richard’s gut, and he dug his fingers into his scalp, wanting the bite of pain to clear his mind. For once in his life, he had no way to fix the situation—no way to help his own kin. The only one who might be able to clear Wick’s name was Kent. But that bridge had been burned to ashes.
A knock made Richard raise his head. He didn’t know who would be paying a visit. At the moment, he was persona non grata: despoiler of an innocent and brother of a murder suspect.
“Come in,” he said.
It was the Blackwoods. Richard rose as they entered, closing the door behind them.
“How are you faring, old boy?” Blackwood said.
Richard didn’t realize how much he’d needed to see a friendly face until that moment.
