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“Four years!” Maggie said. “He stopped sending money four years ago?”

“As if you didn’t know. ’Twas when you ran off and left him. He told us everything.”

“No, Mama! None of that is true! I wrote letters every week for five years. I swear, you must have—”

“Liar! We got no letters. ’Twas your treachery that killed your papa.”

“What?” Maggie froze. “Papa is dead?”

“Two years since,” Oliver said.

“Two years of almost nothing to eat,” Teddy said.

“No!” Maggie shook her head in disbelief. Of all the lies Tobias had told her, this one was the worst. “It’s not true. None of it! Tobias turned me out not long ago. I never left…I thought I was helping you…he said he was sending you money…”

“Look at you,” Mama said bitterly. “Wi’ your fancy carriage an’ pretty dress, while your own family starves. ’Tis a good thing Lettie took your place.”

“What do you mean? Did you sell Lettie to Tobias?”

“Sell her?” Mama laughed. “I couldn’t keep her here even if I tied her to the gate. She went willingly with him. Said it weren’t fair how Maggie were living the life of a lady while she sat here an’ rotted.”

“I don’t believe you. When did she go?”

“The day afore yesterday,” Teddy said. “The gentleman came an’ gave Mama a lot o’ banknotes. We ate like lords that night, but Mama took the rest o’ the notes to buy drink.”

“Be quiet, boy, or I’ll box your ears.” Mama stepped forward and raised her fist at Teddy.

Maggie wanted to throw her arms around the child to protect him from their mother, but she no longer felt that she had the right. Her siblings looked upon her as a stranger or worse, someone who’d abandoned them for greener pastures. Instead, she addressed her mother. “What has happened to you, Mama? You were never so harsh before.”

Her mother let out a bitter laugh. “Hardship, my dear. Hardship. Six children lost an’ now a husband too. Barely any money to feed the ones I have left. An’ a daughter who betrayed me,” she spat the last words, but Maggie was still focused on what she’d said before.

“Six children lost, Mama?” There had been four dead when she’d left home.

“Davie died last year an’ Annie just two months ago,” Teddy said.

Mama immediately smacked his ear, which turned bright red. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Tears sprang to Teddy’s eyes as he covered his sore ear with his hand. Once again, Maggie wished she could wrap her arms around the boy. Instead, she turned to her mother and said, “I’m sorry about Davie and Annie. I didn’t know. But I am here now, and I can help. I’m a countess, Mama. Married to an earl. You shan’t need to worry—”

“Where be this earl of yours then?” Mama said. “And where be all them riches you have?”

“I…it’s complicated,” Maggie said. “I have a little money for you. If you just tell me where Lord Tidworth took Lettie then—”

“You leave Lettie be!” Mama said. “You threw good fortune away, an’ you won’t spoil it for her, you hear. Be gone! An’ take your lies wi’ you. I’ll hear no more.” She turned to her children and ordered them into the cottage. Then she followed them inside and shut the door, leaving Maggie out in the cold.

She stood gazing at the little brown cottage with its thatched roof and square windows, and her heart shattered. But she did not have time for sorrow. She had to find Lettie and rescue her from Tobias’s clutches. For all she knew, they could be on their way to London already.

It had been three days since Maggie had climbed into his bed and then left him. She’d claimed to be visiting her family in Dorset, but Jude suspected something else. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had said her father had sold her to Tidworth for a bag of coins, so why would she return home? And why do so the day after spending such a passionate night together?

Someone had sent her a note, his butler had said. A note that revealed the truth about her husband, Jude suspected. A note telling her what he was. A murderer. A monster. A man she needed to escape. Would she ever return? She hadn’t taken her personal carriage, which suggested she was leaving him for good. His footman had said she’d been in a great hurry to leave and refused to let his valet wake him from his sleep, which sounded to him as though she was running away. Then again, she’d taken her lady’s maid, so that gave him hope that she might return. After all, servants were loyal to those who paid them. He just needed to be patient. But the uncertainty was killing him.

He should have confessed and told her everything. He’d rather she heard it from him than Tidworth. But he’d been a coward. And now she would fear and despise him. Or perhaps he was overreacting. Perhaps she really had just gone to her family. Was her father even alive? Did she have siblings? Could there be someone else in Dorset? An aunt? A friend? A previous lover? His own wife, and he knew nothing about her. But that was his fault. He wouldn’t keep her at arm’s length when she returned.

The footman who’d accepted the note could tell him very little save that a woman had brought it to their door. She was middle-aged, plump, humbly dressed, and appeared somewhat frazzled. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to know exactly who had sent the note. Jude was convinced that someone in Tidworth’s household had sent it on the orders of Tidworth himself, no doubt. So he’d set his valet the task of finding out. Servants in Mayfair knew each other, and they often gossiped. But his valet had been unsuccessful. Either the servants in Tidworth’s household were too afraid to speak, or Tidworth had not arranged for the note to be sent over.

“My lord.” Jude’s valet, Joseph, entered his study.

“What is it?” Jude said, glancing up from the documents he’d been trying but failing to read.