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‘This is Meg’s house. She belongs here. The only reason you were ever allowed to stay for so long was because of her kindness.’
He pulled out a chair and Meg took it. Her poise was admirable, and he wondered whether it played a part in fanning the flames of Isabella’s anger.
If looks could have killed, she would have been as guilty as Sir Henry. ‘This is appalling. I thought perhaps you might have found some decency when you went back to your own kind, but clearly I was wrong.’
Ignoring the barb, Meg shot Jacob a meaningful look. It was an ideal opening for him to put the assurances he’d given her into practice, and as he took the seat beside her he knew there might never be a better time to strike.
‘For the hundredth time, Isabella, what happened to Anthony had nothing to do with Meg. I know that for a fact.’
His sister-in-law’s lip curled. She’d thrown aside her fork and was holding the sleeping Celia with both hands, as if afraid someone might try to take her, pressing the baby defensively to her chest. ‘Don’t be so gullible. Who else could have done it? Who else had so much to gain from his death?’
‘I can tell you the answer to that. I know now who really sabotaged the gig.’
Jacob would have liked to have somehow bottled the expression that skimmed over Isabella’s pinched face. For the span of one blink, her certainty wavered, but then her sneer returned. ‘You’re lying,’ she snapped. ‘You’re making things up to avert the blame from her.’
‘It’s the truth.’ He fixed her with a level gaze. ‘Anthony may not have been a good man while he was alive, but I wouldn’t do him the discourtesy of telling falsehoods about his death.’
Slowly, deliberately, he sat forward, bringing both arms up to rest on the tabletop. ‘So…do you want to know?’
Isabella glowered back at him in uncharacteristic silence. It was obvious she was at war with herself. Blazing curiosity must have been fighting against showing interest in what he had to say, and of course she would never want to admit he had the upper hand. She would have much preferred to pretend she didn’t care to hear his information to spite him; but, fortunately for Jacob, her inquisitiveness won the day.
‘Go on, then. Amaze me.’
It was all the encouragement he needed.
‘It was Sir Henry Bambrough.’
The effect was instant. Isabella’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? Don’t be absurd!’
Her grip on Celia increased. She suddenly looked worried she was sharing a room with a madman, her grasp on her still-sleeping child that of a woman preparing to run at a moment’s notice. ‘I don’t believe you. He’s been here to dine with us. What conceivable reason would he have had to do what you accuse him of?’
Jacob looked down at his hands. There was no easy way to tell a wife her husband had been unfaithful, even if there had been no love between them. ‘It seems my brother paid a little too much attention to Lady Bambrough. Sir Henry is a jealous man who wouldn’t entertain the notion of a rival.’
‘No. That isn’t true.’
‘I’m afraid it is. The man Sir Henry ordered to saw through the axle of Anthony’s gig confessed to us what his master had made him do…and why.’
He watched his sister-in-law as his words hit home. At first she didn’t react, but then he saw the disbelieving indignation begin to drain from her. In her heart of hearts, she must already have known Anthony was no good, but all the same seeing her confront the fact was unexpectedly difficult, stirring sympathy in him he wasn’t sure she deserved.
‘I’m sorry, Isabella. I know we’ve had our differences, but I wouldn’t have wished this on you. My brother was never fit to be anyone’s husband and I hope you will, in time, find someone far better than he could ever be.’
His commiserations, sincere as they were, didn’t appear to register. Isabella merely sat, carefully cradling Celia against her bodice, and something in the way she peered down at her daughter’s tiny face stripped away all the hauteur she’d always worked so hard to project. In that moment she was simply a young woman realising she’d been betrayed, and despite the damage she had caused with her accusations he couldn’t quite turn his heart to stone.
Turning his head as little as possible, he tried to catch Meg’s eye. She was watching Isabella as closely as he had been and new tenderness swelled within him at the compassion in her face. She had every reason to despise Isabella, yet Meg’s first reaction was to show grace and understanding, and he had no choice but to seek her hand under the table and twine her slender fingers with his own.
Eventually Isabella spoke. ‘The shame of it.’ Her voice was laden with disgust so strong it could have soured milk. ‘To think my husband could behave in such a way… Did he care nothing for my dignity, or for Celia’s, if his conduct had become known?’
Jacob spread his hands ruefully. ‘I think not. All he ever cared for was himself and his own reputation. I think any embarrassment you would have suffered wouldn’t have moved him one straw.’
A lightning-fast flash of alarm passed through her eyes. ‘I can’t allow this to be spread about. I could overcome my own humiliation, but for it to be known my poor daughter was fathered by such a rake… She’s too pure to be tainted by his base failings.’
She glanced quickly from Jacob to Meg. The fleeting hint of fear had shaken her usual self-assurance and she pressed Celia ever closer, as if hiding her daughter under her own skin would keep her safe from the wagging of cruel tongues. It was pitiable to see her in such a state, but for Jacob there was a crucial opportunity hidden amid her weakness.
‘I see no reason for anyone else to know what happened. One small assurance from you would be enough to silence Meg and myself on the subject for ever.’
Isabella’s already pointed gaze narrowed further. ‘What would that be?’
Beneath the table, he felt Meg’s fingers tighten. The plan he had outlined to her at dawn as they’d lain wrapped around each other in bed was about to be tested, and he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t harbouring some apprehension of his own.
