Page 76 of Temptress in Disguise
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Hartford Hall
Northwood, Middlesex
The house looked just as Naomi remembered. The rose bushes were blooming. The wisteria was in its second blush, the sweet scent from the purple pendants carried on a gentle breeze. The rays of the midday sun bathed the grounds in a golden glow. She could picture her parents strolling arm in arm through the verdant walkways, talking and smiling, a vision of heavenly bliss.
It was a mirage.
A heartbreaking illusion.
Hartford Hall was the devil’s den. A shelter for criminals. Villains out to soil her sacred memories. Despite her father’s hopes, Melissa was not the ointment to heal grief’s wounds. Spiteful by nature, she’d rubbed salt into every lesion. Now Edwin Budworth professed to be the bandage Lydia needed. The mistake would be her sister’s downfall, too.
“Remember what I said.” Aramis addressed his brother. It was the first time he’d spoken since leaving Aaron’s hired carriage and marching past the gatehouse. “You’ll hold your tongue and permit us to deal with this matter.”
Aaron made no objection. “You’ve waited ten years for retribution. I’m merely here to witness the end of your nightmare.”
Naomi glanced at Aaron, wondering if he knew the guilt Aramis lugged around like a sack of broken bricks. “If Aramis had to pick anyone to stand beside him, he would always choose you.”
Aaron swallowed hard but said nothing.
She stepped forward. “Allow me to announce our arrival. Wilson will be less inclined to turn us away.” Nausea roiled in her stomach as she tugged the bell. The ringing echoed through the hall like a death knell.
Wilson opened the door. Their eyes met, his brightening as he inhaled like a prisoner in need of clean air. “Miss Grant! Bless my soul! Why did you not let yourself in?”
She smiled. It was so good to see a familiar face. “Hartford Hall is no longer my home. I wouldn’t dare be so presumptuous.”
Wilson observed the men flanking her like soldiers of the King’s Guard. As agreed, she didn’t introduce Aramis as her husband.
“I’m here with friends to see Melissa and Uncle Jeremiah.”
The butler leaned closer. “Tell me you mean to overthrow them. If you do, you’ll have an army of servants at your disposal.”
She patted the man’s upper arm as her mother did whenever he found her misplaced books. “That’s good to know. But I mean to rely on the might of the law, not the power of our fists.”
Wilson gave a knowing grin, unaware of the chaos about to erupt. “If you’d care to follow me, Miss Grant, I shall announce you at once.”
“Don’t announce my friends. I insist on a private audience first.”
They entered the house that was no longer her home.
Stale pipe smoke clung to the air. Her mother always kept a vase of hothouse flowers on the console table. Now it was a stuffed stoat.
Naomi’s gaze moved to the grand staircase. Six months had passed since Lydia gripped her hand and pulled her down the dark steps, urging her to hurry. Lydia was every woman’s hero. A lady’s saviour in a time of trouble. Yet it was an act she had failed to repeat.
Wilson knocked on the drawing room door.
With her usual lazy drawl, Melissa called, “Enter!”
Aaron gripped Aramis’ shoulder in a firm gesture of brotherly affection. The men shared glances that said no matter the outcome, they would always have each other.
“You have a visitor, ma’am.”
“A visitor? Here? Well, don’t stand there gawping. Who is it?”
“Miss Grant requests an audience.”
Melissa snorted like a pig. She always snorted when unsettled. “Lydia is here? That girl has the devil’s cheek. Nary a word sent these last six months, and she thinks she can just appear like a phantom in the night. I have a mind to throw her out and bar the door.”
