“He gets exercise. Anytime anyone enters that pasture, he gallops around in a threatening manner.”
Dominic chuckled. “Does he?”
“And he’s been prancing a lot, showing off for the new mare.”
“What new mare?”
“Lady Whitworth’s.”
She actually brought a horse with her? Shedidplan to stay. She’d come here with no idea what she would find, yet she came prepared to stay and marry no matter what—or long enough to kill him.
He’d thought that, at least the first day when she’d offered to help him. It was illogical for her to do that when he’d tried to kill her brother. Illogical for her to accept marriage graciously to her brother’s mortal enemy no matter that they had no choice. She should be as furious as he was at the Regent’s interference, not offering smiles and ridiculous truces. Yet she’d been playing the angel of mercy when she didn’t have to. For some other reason?
On the surface she didn’t appear to be as vicious as her brother, but Dominic wouldn’t put it past Robert to force his sister to play a more subtle game. The Whitworths’ guilt would be too obvious if she killed him right away. Perhaps Robert had counseled his sister to cultivate the appearance of a caring fiancée so that no one would suspect her of poisoning him once they were married.
He didn’t doubt that the only honest thing she’d told him so far was that she was more accustomed to hiding her feelings than revealing them. So she might well be a liar, too. In either case, he’d be a fool to trust a single thing she said or did until he could figure out what she was really up to on her brother’s behalf.
Robert Whitworth was a decadent scoundrel without conscience or morals, and his sister had been raised with him. That ridiculous tale she’d spun about why she didn’t like her own brother, they’d probably concocted it togetheranddevised a lethal plan to get her out of this forced marriage and back totheirplans for her. And those plans would have aspired high. She would have been introduced to society this year. Her family would have had much higher expectations for her than a viscount from Yorkshire.
His eyes drifted back to her in time to see her put the book down and enter the maze not far from the willow tree. He glanced back at the pendulum clock on the wall of his sitting room to time how long it would take her to give up going too far in, or to get hopelessly stuck as had happened to Ella the first time she tried to find her way through the maze. A wooden bench was at the center. Ella had later carvedI win!on the seat and challenged him to a race to the center of the maze so she could show him.
He and his sister had spent a pleasant hour just talking that day and sharing a few secrets. He’d told her he was worried about his friend Benton, who had gotten too fond of gambling after they left school the year before. She’d confessed she’d decided several years prior that she would marry Benton one day, but now she wouldn’t! They’d laughed.
He was surprised he could remember that without getting furious. Had enough time passed for fond memories of Ella not to end with thoughts of the man who’d ruined her life? Thoughts of the man’s sister came instead this time, and he glanced back at the clock again. Fifteen minutes had passed. He was about to tell Gabe to go rescue the Whitworth chit when she walked out of the maze, returned to the bench, and began reading again.
He was annoyed and realized it was because she’d gotten in and out of the maze much faster than he had his first time in. He snorted at himself. As he gazed down at her, he doubted she was even reading, was more likely plotting. He couldn’t deny he’d thought that potion she’d offered him her first night here had been poison.
Poison was a woman’s weapon and so hard to detect if administered correctly, but he had to concede now that his suspicion had been wrong. Nonetheless, as he looked out on her reading in the park, appearing so beautiful and innocent, he would have to remind himself frequently that appearances could be deceiving. And he should have made her drink that potion just to see if she would.
Disgruntled by hindsight, Dominic forgot to favor his wound when he walked back toward his bed. When he realized it barely hurt, even that annoyed him, because she’d obviously succeeded in hurrying the healing along, and he’d be damned if he would thank her for it.
He yelled in the direction of the dressing room, “Are you not done yet, Andrew!”
The valet quickly appeared around the corner of the room with a shirt, a cravat, and stockings draped over his arm as he held up a pair of Dominic’s butchered trousers for his inspection. “The hem still needs hemming, sir.” Indeed, one leg of the trousers had been cut off.
“Never mind the hem. I’m not going to town in them, just get me dressed.”
Gabriel raised a brow. “And why are you suddenly making yourself presentable... well, partially presentable? You aren’t thinking of hobbling downstairs, are you? Opening your stitches again will only delay—”
“You’re going to make a good mother one day, Gabe, but do stop practicing on me. I am expecting a visit from Priscilla Highley today. Show her to me when she gets here.”
“What the deuce isshecoming here for? And how do you know she’s coming? I brought no missives up from—”
“I had Carl send for her.”
“Why?!”
Dominic waved Andrew away with the rest of the clothes; a shirt and pants were enough. He got back in bed and only draped the sheet over his bandaged leg this time. Presentable and covered enough for Priscilla. He didn’t want her thinking she’d been invited for prurient reasons.
But Gabriel was still waiting for an answer, so Dominic said, “Why not? Lady Whitworth needs to know what she can expect from a marriage to me.”
“That you won’t be faithful? Or that you’ll flaunt your mistresses in front of her?”
“Ex-mistress, though Lady Whitworth doesn’t need to know that.”
Dominic and the widow Highley had ended their affair last year when she’d made it clear she wanted to marry again. He didn’t, at least not to her. She’d merely been convenient, living in York, not so far away. However, she’d been unfaithful to him twice during their brief dalliance, not that he’d demanded faithfulness from her when she cost him nothing, being independently wealthy herself, but marriage wouldn’t change her roving eye.
“You’ll just be spiting yourself if you open this can of worms,” Gabriel warned. “Jealous women are not pleasant to be around.”
