Page 77 of In Compromise with the Earl
While stunned—and dismayed—by her faith in him, Oswald kept his expression neutral. “I assure you, Sweetling, you have nothing to fear. Go back to bed. I have much more to finish, but as soon as I feel tired, I will be right by your side.”
She slipped off the desk and after swallowing the rest of the drink, kissed him and he tasted the woodsy, spiced taste. “Good night, Sweetling,” he murmured.
As she left the room, Oswald waited until her footsteps faded before he set his glass aside and caged his face with both hands. After a moment, he gathered his wits and truly set about doing his work.
* * *
Three days later, Oswald was at dinner with his mother, Aphrodite and Leo and the air in the room was light and happy. He was not privy to what went on between his mother and his wife, but he was just happy they were getting along.
Laugher was in the air after his mother shared a story of him faking illness to avoid Christmastide church service only to truly fall ill after playing in the snow for hours.
“Go ahead,” Oswald grumbled into his wine. “Make fun of me all you want.”
“Well, I could tell you a tale of how I nearly burned down my boarding school dormitory,” Aphrodite teased while reaching for her glass. “But I think that is best for another day.”
“Woe is me,” he rolled his eyes playfully.
“I’m undoubtedly pleased that there is happiness here,” Leo smiled. “This is how it should have been from the first.”
A footman knocked on the door. “Pardon me, My Lord and company. A missive had been received for you and its marked important.”
With a heavy sigh, Oswald thanked the man, stood and made his apologies. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He made short work of getting to the study and found the letter resting on a silver plate on his desk. It looked more of a card than a letter, so he picked it up and opened it. There was no mark of whose house the card had come from, no greeting, nor was there a signature; it held nothing, but six words written in neat, black ink. A single line, that at one glance, made his blood run cold.
I know your dirty little secret.
After staring at it, Oswald nearly crushed the note in his fist. There was nothing more, no other taunt, no demands for blackmail, nothing. He stared at it long enough that his eyes began to burn before he placed into a drawer and went back to dinner.
As he sat, Aphrodite’s brows crinkled. “Are you all right?”
“Just a message from my steward about the capital and all that,” his lips ticked down. “I’ll be in London with him for a few days with him. Hopefully we can sort it out quickly.”
“That’s good then,” she smiled.
His smiled was fleeting. “So, now, what other mortifying details of my past are we discussing?”
Later that evening when they parted, his mother and Aphrodite went to their chambers, Leo back to the church and Oswald to his study, he picked up the note again and studied it.
His dirty little secret—that had to be courtesans he had been with as he did not have another secret. But who knew? The words Duke Strathmore had said that night of the play sounded like a gong inside his head.
Does that bastard know? How the deuce had he found out?
“Oswald?” Leo’s voice startled him. He managed to place the note face down as calmly as he could then looked up.
“Leo?” his brows knotted. “I thought you’d left.”
“I had,” the priest said. “But I remembered something I need to ask. When Uncle passed, he said he left some shares for me in his will?”
Nodding, Oswald replied, “Yes, and I’ve been wondering when you wanted to cash them out.”
“Now is the time,” Leo said. “I want to purchase a better apartment in Mayfair. Since you are going to be in London, perhaps we can arrange to go to the bank?”
“Yes,” Oswald pushed down the upset in his stomach. “I’ll send you word when we can go.”
Coming to his desk, Leo’s face drew concerned. “To repeat Lady Aphrodite’s concern, are you truly all right?”
Shaking his head, Oswald said, “It’s the situation with my steward. His note did not tell me what is wrong, so I keep trying to figure out what it is.”
