Authors: Hannah Howell
“I know. I but hope that that rage wil cause him to make a serious error.”
“Is your plan to catch him trying to kil you? He has not been caught yet and he does not try to do it by his own hand, either.”
Julian shrugged. “Nothing else we have done has been enough to catch him and charge him with any crime. That leaves us nowhere to go but to
push his back to the wal .”
“Al -out war?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I just worry about how far he wil carry it. We have a lot of men to protect everyone, but Arthur is very good at turning men to his
side. Yet, what other choice is there? This must be ended.”
“Indeed it must.” Edgar handed him the flask again. “So, has the fair Chloe said she wil marry you yet?”
Julian cursed and took another drink. “No. And after what she had to endure today, she may never do so.”
“Distasteful as the business was, she is smart enough to know it was necessary. Chloe would never have agreed to it if she had thought
otherwise. You are going to have to dig up whatever charm you used to possess and woo the woman, Julian.”
“It was wooing her that got us into this betrothal.”
“No, it was lust. A shared lusting, I am sure, for you would never have been able to compromise her unless she wanted you to. That might be
enough for many women, especial y when an earl is the prize, but not for Chloe.”
“I am not going to offer her words of love that I do not feel,” Julian snapped, even though he knew Edgar was right, that he was going to have to do
some wooing.
“No one asked you to. But you like her, do you not? And you trust her.”
“Yes, and I am not scared of her gift or that our children wil have one. That is not what a woman looks for when a man woos her, however.”
“It wil do for Chloe if you make it clear and make her believe it. I have known her for years, and I believe she is not some foolish romantic. She has
been thoroughly compromised and knows marriage is the result of that. What she does not want is to marry a man whose only interest in her is to get her
into bed. I am sure Leo has told you of how badly so many of the marriages end in their family. Chloe knows it, too, and she needs more than lust or she
wil do her damnedest to get out of this betrothal. Since you can tel no one about it, as you are stil tied to Beatrice, that gives Chloe plenty of opportunity to find her way out of it, too.”
Julian nodded, handed Edgar back his flask, and idly brushed down his silver brocade coat. “Then I shal go a-wooing. I can convince her that I like
her and trust her for I do. I also have one ace up my sleeve.”
“And what is that?”
“If she marries me, she does not have to lose Anthony.”
“You would use your son to pul her into marriage?”
“In a heartbeat,” Julian replied and had to wonder at his own determination to get a wife when he had so adamantly claimed he did not want one.
Lady Evelyn watched her son walk away from Arthur and Beatrice and join his friend Edgar. She then looked at the pair who was trying to kil her
son and shivered. Knowing them as wel as she did, she could see their hatred beneath their polite masks. It was evident that Julian had done as he had
threatened and told them to get out of Colinsmoor.
“I think, until now, I had not real y accepted that my husband’s brother and my son’s wife truly want my son dead,” she murmured.
“It is hard to believe,” agreed Chloe. “When one considers their reasons for it, one can easily think of many who share the same feelings, yet those
people do not indulge in murder. And it is important that we end their reign because of the attempt to kil Julian, for that is the only way to keep the other crimes Arthur is guilty of becoming public knowledge.”
“I know. I would hate for that stain to touch the Kenwood name, yet I do not like Julian being presented like some sacrificial lamb to protect us al
from that.”
Chloe patted the hand that Lady Evelyn had clenched by her side. “It is more than that, is it not? He protects the name and the honor of al those
who have gone before. And treason,” she whispered, “is a crime that wil mark the Kenwoods for generations.”
“Here comes Lady Marston. Oh, bugger.” Lady Evelyn smiled. “Is that not what you said? It has a nice feel to it.”
“It does. I thought as much when I heard it in the stables once. However, it is a wretchedly coarse curse.”
“I know. I made a point of finding out what it meant. Ah, wel met, Lady Marston,” Lady Evelyn greeted the rotund older woman who stopped before
them. “Al ow me to introduce my companion, Miss Chloe Wherlocke.”
“Came in with your son,” the woman said, raising her lorgnette to look Chloe over. “A Wherlocke, eh? You look like Helena Cummings. Knew the
gel years ago.”
“She is my mother. She married Sir George Wherlocke, who died seven years ago,” replied Chloe.
“Ah, heard that. Horse tossed him.”
“That it did.” And Chloe had tried to warn him, but he had refused to listen. She stil wondered at times if he had ignored her because he simply did
not care if he lived or died, and for that she blamed her mother. “He was a good man.”
“He was. Married the wrong woman, though. No disrespect, but Helena was a whiny brat who was spoiled beyond al good sense and never gave
a thought to anyone but herself.”
Chloe simply nodded. Such a statement real y could not be answered. She did wonder how the woman could say no disrespect and then rip a
person’s character to shreds. If she had loved her mother, Chloe suspected she could have thought of some way to defend her. She was saddened by the
knowledge that she could not bring herself to do so.
“Why did you arrive with Lord Kenwood?”
“Mirabel e,” Lady Evelyn murmured in protest, but the woman ignored her and kept her smal dark eyes fixed upon Chloe.
“I came in with my cousin and guardian, Lord Sir Leopold Wherlocke, as wel , m’lady.”
“Sauce.” She looked at Lady Evelyn. “Glad to have the boy up and walking about, eh?”
“Immeasurably,” replied Lady Evelyn. “I also hope to keep him that way.”
“Best get someone to shoot that uncle of his as wel as that whore the fool boy married, then.”
Chloe joined Lady Evelyn in gaping at Lady Marston, who left as abruptly as she had arrived. “Wel , at least we know that some people already
suspect Arthur and Beatrice,” she said after a moment. “Do you think Lady Marston has shared her opinion with anyone else?”
“With great regularity,” replied Lady Evelyn. “I just hope the people she shares it with actual y believe her. I also wonder how she knows.”
“She might not know; she might just feel certain. Does not matter. Even one very opinionated woman stating the fact wil only help our cause.”
When Phil ipa returned from her dance with an obviously besotted young viscount, Chloe excused herself to go to the lady’s retiring room. She
prayed it was not too crowded, for she was growing very weary of crowds. The bal had satisfied her on one matter. At the moment the gossip was almost
al against Beatrice and Arthur. She was surprised that the two had lingered as long as they had, for the murmurs about them were growing too loud for
anyone to ignore.
Chloe was just thinking that she ought to try to edge closer to the pair so that she could get a good look at the infamous Beatrice when she
entered the lady’s retiring room and came face-to-face with the woman. She immediately wished she had remained ignorant of exactly how beautiful
Beatrice was. Tal er than her and far more voluptuous, Lady Beatrice had al most men claimed they craved in a woman. Hazel eyes containing a strong
hint of green, a ful bow-shaped mouth, and thick golden curls. Seeing the white expanse of the woman’s impressive bosom, Chloe fought the urge to look
down at her own smal er one modestly covered with a fichu.
“You are the woman who came in with my husband.”
Startled by the abrupt confrontation, Chloe glanced around and grimaced. The room was not crowded but it was not deserted, either. Three
women were in it adjusting their hair or their gowns. This was not the place to get into an argument with Beatrice. If nothing else, Chloe was afraid she
would say too much if the woman made her angry.
“I arrived with Lord Wherlocke, my cousin and guardian. Your husband”—the words tasted foul on her tongue—“was simply accompanying us.”
“You came in on his arm.”
“He was the one standing the closest to the carriage when I began my descent.”
It was clear from the look on the woman’s face that she had made up her mind about Chloe’s place in her husband’s life and nothing would change
it. After al her infidelities, Chloe thought it the height of hypocrisy for Lady Beatrice to look so outraged by the fact that her husband had escorted another woman into a bal room. She supposed it was part of the show the woman liked to put on—that of a wife deserted and continuously humiliated by her
husband’s infidelities. A quick glance at the avidly listening women told her that Beatrice was a fool if she thought anyone believed her pose.
“I know it was you and your cousin who hid him from me,” snapped Beatrice. “How dare you keep a husband from his loving wife?”
“Loving wife? Ah, wel , I suppose you could be cal ed that, as you are rumored to be very loving, just not always with your own husband.”
Beatrice slapped her, the loud crack of her hand against Chloe’s cheek silencing their giggling audience. It took al of Chloe’s wil power not to curl
up her fist and slam it into Beatrice’s pretty little nose. She stared at the woman and suddenly felt a familiar chil down her spine. Instead of Beatrice’s pretty face, flushed with fury, she saw a skul . The skul stil wore the luxurious hairstyle that Beatrice did and even had Beatrice’s body, but it was stil a skul . There was a thick rope around the woman’s neck.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” demanded Beatrice, her voice growing a little shril . “Are you simple?”
Chloe started to free herself of the vision even as Beatrice raised her hand to strike her again. Then a hand in a lacy black glove grabbed
Beatrice’s wrist. Chloe looked to see Lady Marston standing next to Beatrice and scowling down at the woman.
“You three”—she tilted her head toward the other women making her elaborate hairstyle wobble on her head—“get out.” The three women scurried
out of the room and Lady Marston looked at Chloe. “Hit you, did she?”
“I have every right to strike her, as she is trying to steal my husband away from me,” said Beatrice as she unsuccessful y tried to free her wrist from
Lady Marston’s grasp.
Lady Marston snorted in a very manly way. “Gadzooks, gel, you cannot believe you are fooling anyone, can you? Are you real y that witless?” She
pushed Beatrice toward the door. “Get out. There might even be a man or two out there you have not yet spread your legs for.”
Although Beatrice made a soft growling sound of pure fury, she left. Chloe moved to the bowl of rose-scented water left on a marble table and
gently bathed her cheek. One look in the ornate mirror hung over the table told her it would bruise, and she sighed.
“She clipped you good. Why did you let her?”
“I did not see it coming.”
“Did not seem inclined to retaliate, either, eh?”
“I would have broken her little pert nose if I had, and that would have shifted the scandalous tale onto me. I believe I wil let her keep the weight of
it.” She glanced at Lady Marston and said, “I wil be out of here in a moment if you require privacy.”
“Did not come in here for that. Knew the bitch was in here, so fol owed you in.”
“Oh. Wel , thank you kindly for interceding on my behalf.”
“No bother. What did you see?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Come, gel, I know about you Wherlockes and Vaughns. You got gifts. I also recognized that look on your face as you stood there doing nothing to
stop that bitch from hitting you a second time. What were you seeing?”
“Lady Marston, do you have some, wel , anger toward Beatrice, a personal grievance or the like?”
“Other than I cannot stand a whore who pretends to be some fine lady, no. Do you mean did she bed my husband?” Lady Marston laughed, a
hearty, deep laugh. “No, gel, my Harold loves horses more than women. He had interest enough to give me seven fine children, and so it was enough for
me. Now, tel me what you were seeing.”
Chloe sighed. “So that you might have some tale to tel at some future gathering?”
“No,” she said almost gently. “I do know when to keep silent. As I said, I know about you, even friends with a few. Father was, too. Very useful in the
military.”
Knowing the woman would not give up until Chloe told her what she had seen, she looked the woman right in the eye and said, “I saw a skul with
Lady Beatrice’s hair and body attached. Lady Beatrice is going to die soon. She also had a thick rope around her neck, so it may be that she wil die that
way.”
“Ah, that is why you were so pale. Not a pretty sight. Gratifying, but not pretty.”
“Are you certain you have no personal grievance against the woman?”
“Just that the Kenwoods are good people aside from that Arthur. They do not deserve what the man and that whore are trying to do.” Lady Marston
smiled. “And my dear friend Mildred Kenwood needs to be free of the burden of the both of them.”
Yet again Chloe found herself gaping after the woman as Lady Marston strode out of the retiring room. Shaking herself free of the shock, she
glanced at herself in the mirror again. The print of Lady Beatrice’s hand was very clear to see on her face, but Chloe smiled faintly. It would make a very good reason for someone to take her home.
“Beatrice should never have touched you.”
Chloe eyed Julian, who sat far too close to her in the carriage, his glare fixed upon her reddened cheek. Much to her relief, he and Leo had