Minerva drew another long breath. Her whole manner stressed how difficult the subject was for her. “William was acompletegentleman.”
“Aye, he was.”
“Except he hadunusualtastes.” Minerva looked at Matt as if gauging whether he understood what she was saying. “He would never marry. He was not of that persuasion to take a wife even though he was the mostmasculineof men.”
Matt understoodexactlywhat she meant.
Thetonwere a licentious lot. Depending on the tolerance of one’s spouse, adultery was given a passing wink. There were great ladies who didn’t know the true father of all their children. As long as they delivered a decent heir, their husbands were usually too busy with their own adulterous pursuits to care. Gambling wasn’t considered a sin, even when a fortune was lost and children went hungry. Excessive drinking to the point of being incapacitated was more the rule than the exception.
But there was one vice for which a man could be successfully blackmailed—the “unnatural” crime. Any man could be imprisoned for it. Certainly, he would have been ruined whether he was a yeoman or a duke.
“Did my uncle tell you this himself?”
“No, but a mother knows. For a long time, I didn’t believe Henry knew or suspected about William. However, after Hardesty started his terrible threats, and once Henry confided in me... then we understood that we both had known. I loved my son. I admired him. He was a worthy man ineveryaspect,” she added, as if insisting on the fact.
Matt could have pointed out that she’d hadtwosons. William was the golden child while Matt’s father, Stephen, had committed an unpardonable sin in the family—he’d married beneath himself. Or was it that he had ignored his father’s dictates?
“How did the blackmail start?” he asked his grandmother.
With her secret out, Minerva had regained some of her composure. “Henry received a letter with reports of William’s activities and a threat to go to the authorities. You know that if they received a complaint, they would have had to act. The scandal—well, it quite boggled the mind. We wished to protect William. Mayfield actually was beginning to have financial difficulties. The fields weren’t producing. Money had been spent unwisely. Your grandfather had a desire to breed a great racehorse and had spent a fortune over the years in pursuit of that dream. Of course, it never happened. Breeding is tricky. It was all such a challenge, and then the horrid letters started coming. Henry paid to shut the man up. In the beginning, the amounts Hardesty wanted were small. Eventually, he always wanted more. And he kept sending his terrible reports.”
“Did William know about the blackmail?”
She looked stricken. “He found out.”
“How?”
Minerva bowed her head. She’d started pulling on one of the gloves she held. She stopped before confessing, “I told him.” She lifted her gaze. Remorse filled her eyes. “I began to believe that HardestycontrolledHenry. Your grandfather was obsessed with preventing anyone from hearing the truth. It wasn’t right. I lost my temper. I decided William should know. He would put an end to it. Iknewhe would.”
“What did my uncle do when he learned of all this?”
“He was furious. He considered it an affront to his honor.”
“Did he deny what Hardesty had accused him of doing?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “How I wish I had never said anything. Hardesty could have had all of Mayfield, but at the time—” Her voice broke off. Tears began to roll down over her cheeks. “I unleashed a horror upon us.”
“Finish it, Grandmother. What happened?”
“I believe Hardesty murdered William.”
Shocked, Matt stood. He took a step away and then came back. “Murdered? He broke his neck in a riding accident.”
“There wasn’t a horse in the world William couldn’t ride. He’d never come off. However, shortly before he died, he told us he believed he’d discovered who Hardesty truly was and he was going to confront him. William’s body was found close to one of the places Henry had left money for Hardesty.”
“Did William go after the blackmailer alone?” That seemed particularly foolhardy.
“Apparently. He was alone when he was found.”
“Was the magistrate notified of your suspicions?”
“It appeared anaccident,” she stressed. “We would have looked silly lodging a complaint of murder. And we wouldn’t have told him anything about William’s... life. And wewon’t.” A touch of the autocratic dowager colored her last words. “I’ll not let anyone sully my son’s reputation.”
Matt raked a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of something that seemed almost fantastical. “The blackmail stopped?”
“Yes, after William died. We wouldn’t have paid another shilling... if we’d had it.”
Matt paced the length of the room, trying to process all that he’d heard.
