“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What good would it do for you to know the depth of his depravity? Having gone through your mama’s money, your stepfather killed her to gain control over the one thing she refused to relinquish: your dowry. Yet you were dependent upon him—you had no means of escape. The knowledge would have haunted you, the way it has haunted me, and I wanted to protect you…the way I failed to protect Beatrix.”
Evie felt herself unraveling. Harkness’s revelation tore at the fabric of who she was. She had finally convinced herself she was made of strong and worthy stuff—but now she was reduced to a pile of shapeless string.
“Wilmington killed Mama because of me.” She rose, staring down at her trusted companion. “She died protecting my future. And you kept this from me?”
Harkness came stiffly to her feet. “Pet, Beatrix’s death was not your fault. I knew you would blame yourself, and that is why I didn’t?—”
Another thought assailed Evie.
“Did you kill him?” she whispered. “Did you switch the bottles of valerian and belladonna?”
“No.”
Harkness’s vehemence seemed like the truth—but Evie was no judge of that, was she?
“I hated that monster,” Harkness said fervently. “When he died, I shed tears of joy because you were free of him at last. But I lacked the strength to do nature’s work.”
The relief felt like a speck in the swirling void of Evie’s reality.
Mama died because of me. Died trying to protect me. I am a curse.
The knock on the door jolted her. Disoriented, she saw Gigi hurry in.
“Heavens, Evie,” Gigi said breathlessly. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“You have?” Evie’s head was spinning. “Why?”
The apprehension in Gigi’s gaze filled Evie with foreboding.
“You must come quickly. I’ll explain on the way.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Ryerson is behind this slander.”
Despite the pounding in his chest, cold fury focused James. He was in Ethan’s study, along with the rest of the family, as well as Friend and Dunsmuir, who had delivered the catastrophic news. On the desk was the most recent copy of The Morning Post, and he stared with burning eyes at the story blazed across the front page:
A Lady’s Past Shadows Her Husband’s Ambition
* * *
Rumors of an unsettling nature now circulate regarding the wife of a rising parliamentary hopeful. According to a source within her late stepfather’s household, certain indiscretions in the lady’s youth have been misrepresented to avoid scandal. While details are still unfolding, the implications cast a troubling shadow over the candidacy of her husband, a nobleman of distinguished lineage, whose papa was known for his valor fighting Boney.
While the article named no names, it might as well have. Everyone would know that the story was about James and Evie. Over scandal broth, the wags would be speculating upon the nature of Evie’s “indiscretions.”
Enraged, James bit out, “The dirty bastard knew he was losing and started these rumors to ruin my campaign. At the ball, he intimated that he would use scandal to smear me?—”
“His strategy was effective,” Dunsmuir said soberly. “Being a mudslinger pays off, I’m afraid. Ryerson has brought down many an opponent in this manner.”
James tried to calm himself—to not let anxiety muddle his logic. Before his death, had Merrow sold this piece of filth to Ryerson? Had he calculated that his blackmail scheme would soon run dry and found another way to turn a quick profit? How much had Merrow told Ryerson? The article, while sensational, damned through insinuation rather than fact. Details were vague, which led James to believe that Ryerson did not know about Wilmington’s poisoning. If Ryerson did know, he would have undoubtedly accused Evie of murder—and James of being an accomplice who covered up her supposed crime.
No, Ryerson doesn’t know. Maybe Merrow was selling him information in pieces. Yet now Merrow is dead—and perhaps Evie’s secret will die with him.
The coil in James’s gut told him that the danger was far from over. Scandal was rising like a tide, and he had to protect Evie from its lethal undertow. He had to keep an eye on Owen, who hadn’t slept for days and seemed to be falling to pieces. He had to win his campaign—to make good on his promise to bring justice, health, and honor to all.
By God. How will I accomplish all of that and still stay afloat?
