Page 57 of Temptress in Disguise
Lydia looked like she might vomit. “Aramis Chance married you?”
Aramis stepped into the room, his impenetrable eyes fixed on Lydia. “I’m curious about something, Miss Fontaine. Did you know of my history with Melissa when you told my wife I’d be the ideal person to help with your plight? Surely you based your assumption on more than a man’s reputation.”
Beneath the weight of his stare, Lydia stood with regal bearing. She brushed her skirts and patted her hair while her gaze caressed the man she’d confessed to desiring. “Tell me my sister is delirious, sir. Tell me there has been a mistake. It’s said you swore an oath never to marry.”
“There’s no mistake. How could I not be captivated by your sister’s innate beauty?” Like a dutiful husband, he stood beside Naomi and slid his arm around her waist. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Lydia’s lips parted as she gawped at Aramis’ impressive physique. “I’ve never believed the adage opposites attract. There must be some commonality for a relationship to work. Oh, but forgive me. Doubtless you married my sister so you could claim her share of the inheritance.”
Aramis stiffened. “As you seem to know a lot about me, you know I don’t need my wife’s money. Now answer the damn question. Did you know of my history with your stepmother?”
Lydia’s coy shrug was a silent admission. “Melissa may have mentioned you when she spoke about her first husband. A brute of a man who met his end in a dark alley.”
Naomi froze. Time slowed, though her thoughts raced. “Why did you not tell me? You let me believe you’d singled Aramis out because of his courage and formidable strength.”
“I’m sure I did tell you,” came Lydia’s flippant reply.
“Mr Daventry told me. He can attest to my surprise.” The last thing she wanted was for Aramis to think she’d lied.
“What did Melissa say?” His tone was as sharp as an Arctic wind.
Naomi held her breath, praying it wasn’t something unkind. Other thoughts entered her mind. Why did he care about Melissa’s opinion? Had he been lying to himself for ten years, convincing himself he felt nothing? Was this marriage doomed long before they’d exchanged vows?
“Melissa said you were too weak to fight for her. Too weak to defend yourself against her husband. That you were a fool who?—”
“Stop!” Naomi cried. She faced Aramis, who stood like a stone monument to hatred. “Do not give that Jezebel’s opinion a second thought. You’re not the man she describes.”
He met her gaze, every tight facial muscle relaxing. “I know. I merely wondered if she’d shown any remorse. I could have killed Jacob Adams. In doing so, I would have become Melissa’s puppet. Part of me felt I received the punishment I deserved.”
Uninterested in their conversation, Lydia quickly turned to the matter of the forged will. “So, what do you mean to do about her? How can you help us regain what is ours by rights?”
“Do you not think proving your sister is innocent of Budworth’s murder should be the priority?” Aramis said.
He was right. Sergeant Maitland was waiting for an excuse to arrest her. One piece of damning evidence would see her confined to a cell in Newgate.
“Of course. No one in their right mind would believe she’s guilty.” Lydia’s voice turned catlike. “I would love to help save my dearest darling, but Mr Chivers wishes to avoid any scandal lest his mother learn of our cosy arrangement.”
A sudden emptiness filled Naomi’s chest. Had Aramis asked his brothers for assistance, they would have raced to the armoury, ready to stand beside him, pistols and pikes at the ready.
She had no one to depend upon but Aramis.
“Maybe there’s something I can do while remaining incognito.” Though Lydia tried to sound helpful, her tone lacked conviction.
Instinct said Lydia would cause trouble for her and Aramis. Jealousy was not a coat her sister wore well. Somehow, she would seek to gain the upper hand.
“You can begin by answering a few questions.” Naomi forced herself to remember Lydia had once saved her life. Surely that counted for something. “In his journal, Mr Budworth referred to one of your admirers as the man with many faces. Is he referring to one of the actors?” It certainly sounded like a metaphor for a theatrical performer.
Lydia frowned and tapped her finger to her lips. “Are you certain he mentioned me? I know he wrote a lot of old nonsense in his pathetic little book, but you’ve born witness to all the men who wished to court me.”
Courtingwas not the word Naomi would use to describe the men’s ambitions. “Not always. You refused to let me visit the modiste with you. You’ve taken many a drive about town without mentioning your companions.”
“Had I known I would be under such heavy scrutiny, I would have kept a list.”
“Do you recall the name of Mr Farquhar’s clerk?” Aramis said.
“Mr Farquhar?”
Naomi groaned. Was Lydia remotely interested in reclaiming their family home? “The solicitor who presented a fake will to Doctors’ Commons. The office is closed. Both men have vanished.”
