His aunt made a cynical noise.“I’ll wager she wouldn’t,” she muttered under her breath, then caught his eye.“Oh, go on then, I promise I won’t tell a soul.What was her excuse this time?”
“She didn’t make an excuse.But it’s damnably vague.All she remembers is that she’d refused Hewitt a number of times, but somehow she ended up married anyway.I believe it was some sort of trickery by her brother.”
“Trickery?What sort of trickery?”
“I’m not sure, and I don’t wish to speculate further until I discover the truth.”He vowed that Edgar would never be in a position to abuse her ever again.“I believe he’s planning to force her to marry a third time—to another wealthy old man‚ but I’ll be damned if I let him.I’m going to put a stop to Edgar Blaxland.”
Aunt Maude sat up straight and stabbed her lorgnette in his direction.“You arenotto call him out, Marcus.I forbid it!”
“Call him out?Don’t be ridiculous, Aunt Maude.Dueling is illegal, and besides, I’m a magistrate.”And he wouldn’t sully a blade or even a bullet on a dishonorable swine like Blaxland.
She subsided slightly.“Then what do you plan to do?”
“I have some thoughts,” Marcus admitted.“But though I offered—for her own safety—to bring her here this evening, she refused.She is determined to resist her brother’s pressures.But I have my doubts of her ability to do so.”
“I see.”She poured more tea into her cup, took a sip, grimaced and set it aside.She looked at Marcus.“I can see that she’s told you a very affecting tale and has awakened all your dratted protective instincts—you always were drawn to wounded creatures.I suppose she learned that about you when she was a child—no, don’t interrupt me.Since you seem to have already become entangled in her toils, I’ll accept this young woman as a house guest and judge her for myself.I’mnot a gullible young man to be deceived by a pretty face and a sad story.”
“Young?I’m one-and-thirty, remember?”
She snorted.“But an innocent in the ways of cunning and conniving females.”
He rose, saying, “How could I be, when I’ve known you and Great-aunt Gert all my life?”
She snorted again, with laughter this time.“Get away with your nonsense—and show some respect for your elders.”
Marcus bowed over her hand.“Always,” he said softly.“Thank you, Aunt Maude.I’m sure it will be just a matter of time until I can prevail on Lady Hewitt to accept my invitation.You’ll like her, I’m sure.”
She sniffed.“We’ll see about that.”
#
THE SUN WAS LOW INthe sky when Tessa heard Edgar leave the house, slamming the door behind him.Good.He wasn’t staying for dinner.He rarely did, and in any case, he was very fussy about his food and with nobody to cook or serve it, he’d probably decided to dine with friends or at whatever gambling hell he was visiting tonight.
She hoped he’d remembered to take the front door key with him, for there would be nobody to answer the door for him, and she’d be asleep if he came home in the wee small hours, as was his habit.
Feeling hungry herself, she went downstairs to the kitchen.Not much had been left behind, but there were a few eggs and half a stale loaf of bread.And a couple of meaty bones, which would make Billy happy.
She was no cook, but she’d learned young to make herself a scratch meal, and the fire in the stove was not quite out.She fed it with wood chips until it was burning merrily, then she made herself a meal of toast and scrambled eggs.
In the pantry she found a small bowl of leftover strawberry fool from the day before—her favorite—so she dug in a spoon.It tasted a bit peculiar—sharp—as if someone had mistakenly sprinkled some salt in it, so after a few mouthfuls, she set it aside.
Then she waited, until she realized she was waiting for Edgar to return, praying he wouldn’t.Waiting to hear from Lord Alverleigh saying his aunt knew an old lady who needed a companion.
She hated waiting.And she hated feeling so helpless, depending on others, relying on their actions in order for her life to...what?Begin?What nonsense!
A huge yawn broke her train of thought.She was tired, sleepy and her thoughts were becoming muzzy.It would be easier to work out what to do once she’d had a good night’s sleep.With another great yawn, she took herself to bed.
#
THE DOWNSTAIRS BELLjangled noisily.Marcus sat up in bed and eyed the clock on the mantel—not quite seven.Such an early caller at the front door could only be about one thing—Tessa!
He threw on a pair of breeches, grabbed a shirt and dragged it on as he hurried downstairs.There he found his butler arguing with one of Radcliffe’s men.
“I tell you,” his butler was insisting, “neither his lordship nor her ladyship accept callers at this hour.And if you’re a tradesman you ought to go around to—”
“It’s all right, Peverill,” Marcus said.“What is it, Jackson?”
“Trouble afoot, your lordship.I come straight away.”
