The air had remained crisp and cold, and snow still covered the ground. She gave herself a shake, peering around frantically while he wrapped the woolen cloak around her shoulders, tying it securely at her chin. When his hands, pressed against the cloak, lingered at her neck longer than needed, she said nothing.
A man could get lost in this woman’s deep blue eyes, he mused. If he thought to see fear, he saw only confusion. His throat tightened at the sight. “You must know you need to explain yourself,” he said hoarsely.
Her gaze sharpened, and she straightened before pulling her eyes from his. “You demanded this conversation. Explain what exactly?”
“Why did you poison the cocoa? You didn’t mean to harm your cousin.”
She glared at him sharply. “Certainly not! I love Sophie. And it wasn’t poison.”
“But you don’t deny you tainted the drink?”
Her cheeks, already pink with exasperation and cold, turned a deeper red. She dropped her gaze to her feet. Her voice trembled. “No.” On a sharp indrawn breath, her head bobbed back up. “I don’t make a habit of it, you know!”
He barked an unwilling laugh. “I should think not.”
Again, she seemed to find her slippers fascinating.
He lifted her chin with one knuckle. “If you are trying to tell me you had nothing to do with the fiasco two years ago, I already know that.”
Stunned surprise made those glorious blue eyes widen. “How do you know?”
“Your cousin Cecil bragged about it.”
“Of course, he did, the devil-spawn scum! I was certain he did it. How could he resist boasting?” She turned away, her jaw clenched and her shoulders tight. “You’ve known all along? Why call me a menace. You were part of the prank!”
“No!” He swallowed hard. “I heard about it late that night. Cecil described it in painful detail. Please believe me. I broke with Cecil’s circle of degenerates the next morning."
That seemed to surprise her. “You disappeared soon after. Cecil did too. He left me in peace last Season—he never even came to London. Neither did you. I think the Marquis of Aldridge had something to do with Cecil’s departure. I heard him shouting at Uncle Hartwell. The next thing I knew, Cecil was dispatched to Uncle’s cottage near Aberdeen. Did he?—"
“Banish me? No. My grandfather called me home and there was mourning and—” He waved a hand. “Never mind that. Just answer one thing. You put emetics in that chocolate. You meant it for me, didn’t you?” He thought she would look away then, but she did not.
She held his gaze directly. “Yes.”
“Why me?”
“If it went up in Cecil’s tea that morning, he’d have blamed it on the previous night’s excess. It needed to be public just as the other was public.”
“Why now? It has been two years.”
“Cecil told me you were the one to call me The Westcott Menace.”
John grimaced. “I’d deny that if I could. I was so drunk that night I hardly remember anything I said. He may be right, and I sincerely, deeply apologize. The whole distasteful episode shames me. I have never, ever, used that despicable name in public.”
“Well, it humiliated me. It still does. He plans to make that public during the next Season. While you are society’s darling, the most eligible man in the land, he’ll make certain every gossip, every dragon of the Ton, every ambitious mother knows that the Earl of Ridgemont, pearl among pearls, named me a menace.”
John felt his blood freeze in his veins one moment only to boil the next as rage consumed him. His curses would have shocked an army sergeant. They seemed to amuse Belinda Westcott.
“I take it that is news to you,” she said.
“Of course, it is. I would have nothing to do with a scheme to humiliate you.”
She stepped away. “Thank you for that, at least. I need to go back in now. Dinner won’t prepare itself.
“I’m glad no permanent harm came to Lady Sophie. I wish I had never handed her that mug. She’s lucky to have you; you took excellent care of her.”
She whispered thanks and walked away.
Excellent care…John suspected everyone at Hartwell Hall benefitted from Belinda Westcott’s care. As he watched her graceful, determined stride, attraction heated him. He thought of her cooking and smiled. Belinda Westcott was the one woman at this benighted house party interesting enough to pursue, or at least worth further acquaintance. First, however, he needed to confront Cecil Hartwell. The worm.
