Cherlynn exchanged pleasantries with Miss Langley and Mrs. Monroe as questions simmered in her mind. Frederick’s increasing hostility toward Fay might warn the girl that her betrothal was in danger, giving her a new reason to harm Emily. Would Fay confront her in the drawing room or lure her away from company?
Cherlynn tried to keep one eye on Fay, but she soon lost sight of the girl. The crowd was larger than she had expected. Sixty people were attending this neighborhood betrothal dinner. Not until Cherlynn was laughing with Drew, Frederick, and Anne did she again spot Fay. Their eyes clashed, sending a shiver of fear down her back. The girl was furious. And even more so when Drew escorted Cherlynn across the room to meet a distant cousin, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Did Fay realize, as she did, that he was paving the way for a change of fiancées?
* * * *
Fay planted another poisonous seed in the fertile ground of Lady Travis’s mind, determined to destroy every last vestige of Lady Emily’s reputation. The girl was a whore who should not be inflicted on respectable people. Drew was a high stickler whose infatuation would never survive rumors of Emily’s infidelity.
“I saw them with my own eyes,” she continued. “Writhing, without a stitch of clothing between them.”
“With her groom?” demanded Lady Travis.
Fay nodded, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Let the slut try to get out of that one!
But her good humor vanished moments later. Drew was sticking so close to Emily’s side that no one could cut her without also cutting him. And his frown when she had earlier tried to claim his attention boded ill.
Her irritation rose when she discovered the seating arrangements at dinner. Lady Emily was placed at Drew’s right, while she, the future Marchioness of Broadbanks, languished halfway down the table between the vicar and Lord Clifford. Mr. Rumfrey was such a dithery man that he rarely understood what anyone was saying, usually responding with placating absurdities that urged forgiveness for any sin. She doubted he understood even her most blatant hints. And Lord Clifford would never accept calumnies against his sister. He even ignored truths.
Irritation changed to fury during the betrothal announcement.
Drew rose to present the happy couple. “I propose a toast. To my sister Anne and Mr. Frederick Raeburn, who will wed in December, God willing. Unfortunately, the health of both Lord Broadbanks and Lord Raeburn is too frail for them to join us on this joyful occasion. But my father has expressed delight with Lady Anne’s choice.”
“Where will you be living?” asked Lord Lindleigh once the company had drunk to the couple’s future.
Frederick smiled. “At Lord Thurston’s suggestion, Broadbanks will include Raeburn House in Lady Anne’s dowry.”
Several more toasts were offered, but Fay refused to participate. How dared Broadbanks give away her estate? Everything was going wrong. She had demanded that Drew put Raeburn House in her name, threatening to tell his father about Randolph’s death if he did not. Instead of complying, he had smiled and told her to go ahead.
Lady Emily had bewitched him until he no longer cared what others thought. What if he no longer cared whether Broadbanks lived or died? It was a frightening thought, for if true, he might jilt her.
Her mind twisted frantically. How could she prevent it? The steps she had taken to destroy Emily’s reputation wouldn’t suffice. If he was besotted enough, he wouldn’t believe them. He might even cite them as just cause to end their betrothal, and if he could disprove even one of her charges, these arrogant cats would tear her to shreds. Emily would become the toast of the neighborhood.
Such an insult couldn’t be borne. It was too late to look for alternatives to Drew. She had played fair from the start.
He
was the one who had thrown over the arrangement their fathers had made all those years ago.
He
was the one who had tried to discard her like an old coat he no longer wished to wear. And he would do it again. No matter how dishonorable the action, he was going to leave her standing at the altar. This insulting position at the table confirmed it.
Servants cleared her untouched plate, offering her a choice of sweets. She chose a tart, methodically tearing it to shreds. By the time the pastry had been reduced to crumbs, she knew what she must do.
Kill Lady Emily.
Only by destroying the girl could she control Drew. Once his inamorata was gone, he wouldn’t care whom he wed. Duty demanded a wife, so he would accept the one already poised to assume that role. She had already tried once, but that had been a sudden whim triggered by the intimate look they had exchanged. This time she would take no chances.
Decision made, Fay watched Emily circulate in the drawing room after dinner, laughing with Drew, joking with Frederick – she would have to do something about him as well, or Raeburn House would be lost – and charming several ladies who had earlier lapped up all Fay’s spite. Emily must die. And it must be soon.
* * * *
“How dare you show your face in respectable society,” hissed Lady Travis as Cherlynn joined her and Miss Langley after dinner. The gentlemen remained ensconced over port, so she was on her own.
Cherlynn raised her brows. “Would you care to enlighten me on my supposed transgression?” Who had spilled the beans about Drew’s kiss in the folly? Fay? Or had the servants overheard Lady Clifford’s ranting?
“You were seen, my fine lady, disporting yourself with your groom!”
Fay must be spreading spite. “How odd! I have no groom, nor have I had dealings with anyone else’s.”
“Your sins will never be forgiven,” said Lady Travis firmly, beginning to turn away in a deliberate cut.
“Will you condemn me without a hearing?” Cherlynn demanded, glaring at the gossip. “When did this indiscretion take place? Where? With whom?”
“Tuesday last at eleven in the morning,” snapped Lady Travis.
“As I thought. It could not have been me,” she said. “I was taking tea with Miss Langley at that time.”
“Quite right, my dear,” confirmed Miss Langley, realization blossoming in her eyes. “We had such a comfortable coze.”
Lady Travis’s glare changed to speculation.
“Someone mistook the identities of the participants,” said Cherlynn firmly, thanking fate that Fay had made the mistake of including specifics so the tale would sound more authentic. The first rule of successful lying was to avoid details that could be checked. “Or is someone deliberately piling calumny onto my name?”
“No lady would do such a thing,” exclaimed a shocked Miss Langley.
“Was this tale mentioned by a lady?” Cherlynn asked slyly.
“She considers herself so,” stated Lady Travis, “though I’ve had my doubts. And this proves them.”
“Miss Raeburn fears your friendship with Lord Thurston,” said Miss Langley, abandoning circumspection in light of this condemnation.
“It is true that his lordship treats me with kindness, but he is my brother’s friend,” protested Cherlynn. “I am merely Charles’s little sister.”
The ladies accepted her statement. And Fay’s attempt to smear an innocent young girl breached a dam, allowing all manner of memories to spill out. Cherlynn learned more in ten minutes than she had in all her previous probing. The witchcraft rumors had arisen because Fay dabbled in potions, not all of which were beneficial. A tenant who had gone to her for help with spots had found herself with a painful rash that left her face permanently pitted. She had angered Fay some days earlier by attracting the attention of a young man with whom Fay had been flirting.
Which led to tales of Fay’s affect on gentlemen. Like her mother, she was a beautiful woman with a fey charm that attracted men in droves. And she welcomed their interest. No one knew details, but all suspected that she was no longer chaste. Yet no one would dare mention the possibility to her face. Fay Raeburn was not a person to cross.
Cherlynn sighed. None of the tales were first-hand accounts, and none of Fay’s paramours were named, so she
still
lacked proof.
She moved through the rest of the evening deep in calculation. Their departure had been delayed one more day, thanks to Drew. One of Charles’s horses had mysteriously gone lame, but she had twenty-four hours at most. Identifying any of Fay’s liaisons would take too long. Rumors of witchcraft wouldn’t suffice even in this superstitious age. Her best chance was to lure Fay into attacking her. The assault itself would be enough, but if she could also get the girl to admit any of her transgressions, it would assure her future silence.
But how could she guarantee the attack would fail? Emily would be irritated if she sacrificed her life in order to free Drew. And Drew wouldn’t be pleased, either. Would he go along with the idea if he was there to guard her safety? That would also ensure that any confession called down instant penalties.
Yet she needed more than just Drew’s guard. Fay harbored the seeds of insanity. Watching her dreams crumble might push her into harming them both.
Who else could she involve in this plot? Not Charles, she decided instantly. He would never condone her plan. But Frederick might. As soon as she worked out the details, she would meet with the men to make arrangements. They would have to lure Fay into the trap tomorrow. A second accident would raise Charles’s suspicions.
* * * *
Fay crouched behind a hedge, peering nervously at the cottage. Damn Frederick for assigning his groom to watch her whenever she left the house. He was treating her like a child. A second look in all directions verified that she had escaped his scrutiny.
Why was everyone so determined to oppose her? She had been trained to be Marchioness of Broadbanks. Drew had grown up knowing that their future was together. And though he had bowed to the inevitable, he still looked to others for companionship. Frederick was no better. Not only was he watching her every move, but he had stepped in to steal
her
estate. Even worse, his diatribe last night had not only denounced her efforts to drive Lady Emily away – somehow he had discovered her lie about Emily and the groom – but had hinted that he might cancel her betrothal.
Never!
she vowed, making a final scan of the area to make sure that no one was in sight. She would see Frederick in hell before she’d forego her destiny. It was a fitting place for the interfering American.
Jaime’s summons claimed that he had new information for her, but she would have come today in any case. One day soon, she would take care of the arrogant farmer, but not yet. He was too useful. It was Jaime who had noticed that Lady Emily spent most afternoons alone in the Grecian folly. But now she had a more serious job for him. Or perhaps two. The blackmailer was about to be blackmailed. He would take care of her problems – all of them – after which she would take care of him. Once she was Marchioness of Broadbanks, she would arrange an accident for her nemesis. In the meantime, he was useful. And he did such deliciously wicked things to her body. Her eyes closed on a wave of heat.
* * * *
“What did you learn?” Fay asked an hour later, her voice throaty from the lingering dregs of passion. One hand skimmed lightly over his sweaty chest. The first time, he had been reluctant – but only because of her exalted station. Now he couldn’t get enough of her. His shaft was already lengthening under her palm. Lusty. The way she liked all her men. Even the controlled, disdainful Drew would go mad with desire once she got her hands on him. She smiled at the image, teasing Jaime into wild need, then holding him off while she questioned him.
“What has Lady Emily been up to?”
“Social calls,” he panted, lunging for her.
She danced lightly away. “I know that. I saw her last night. I’m paying you to watch her meetings with Thurston.” She ran her fingers lightly over her bare breasts, smiling coyly at the lust that exploded in his eyes. His manhood swelled, raising an answering heat in her belly. Lifting one heavy breast, she licked the nipple, then again sprang out of reach. “What have they been doing, Jaime?” she managed to gasp through her own need.
“Talking. Just talking. Every night in the library.”
Fury paralyzed her so that his next lunge pinned her to the bed. Flipping her onto her stomach, he pounded into her from behind. But his attention was not wholly focused on her body. “He lives for those meetings,” he taunted as his hands painfully squeezed her breasts. “But he treats her with the respect a gentleman accords a
lady.
And she
is
a lady, my wanton slut. You won’t find her rutting with the grooms or throwing herself at the tenants. And that’s the real reason you hate her, isn’t it? You may incite lust in males and fear in females, but you’ll never command respect.”
Fury exploded, quashing all trace of her passion. “Get off me, you lout!” she grunted, trying to twist free. But he effortlessly held her beneath him, dominating her, riding her until he’d had his fill. Then he cast her scornfully aside.
She flew across the room to jerk on her clothes. “I won’t be coming again,” she spat.
“Reckon not,” he said comfortably. “But I ’spect Thurston will be right grateful to see me.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed. “You’d lose your farm if he found out you’d raped his fiancée.”
He frowned, but she didn’t care. The man was getting above himself after a fortnight of rubbing shoulders – and other body parts – with the quality. It was time to remind him who was in charge. She reached into her reticule.
“Lady Emily has outstayed her welcome,” she said coldly. “I no longer need you to follow her. But I do have one last job for you. The fee is a thousand pounds.”
His eyes narrowed. “I doubt I can do any work that pays so much.”
“You’ll do it or live out your days in Botany Bay for blackmail and rape. I want Lady Emily dead.” She pulled out a pistol. “This can’t be traced to you, so you’re safe enough.”
“No.”
The implacable voice raised her temper another notch. “You don’t have a choice, Potts. Either you kill Lady Emily or I will swear out a complaint with the magistrate.”
“You’ll swear out nothing, my little slut,” he drawled. “I will claim that you are retaliating because I refused to service you. I can name enough of your partners to guarantee that folks will believe me, not you. I’m not the only one you had to pay to climb into bed with you.”