Page 25 of Mine This Winter
Was Gwen the only one ignorant of the facts?
“I know it’s wrong to go snooping, miss, but we’ll all be for the gallows if evidence comes to light.”
“My brother is not spying for the French.” Gwen tried to sound convincing, but a sliver of doubt crept into her mind.
“I pray you’re right, miss.” Myrtle showed Gwen a letter she had hidden behind her back. “I think it’s written in French. Happen you could read it and put all our minds at rest.”
Gwen should have argued against reading a person’s private missive, but lives were at risk, and she had to discover the truth.
She took the letter, the heavy floral scent assaulting her nostrils. “It is written in French.” Despite neglecting her studies, she deciphered the message. “It’s a love letter.” A lewd letter. “There’s nothing here to support these ludicrous claims.”
Myrtle’s shoulders sagged. “Thank heavens.”
“If you have any further concerns, you’ll bring them to me.”
The maid curtsied. “On my word, I’ll not go snooping again.”
Gwen opened the chamber door. “I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Yes, miss.”
Myrtle scuttled away, leaving Gwen to place the note back in the drawer. She glanced about the room before making a quick retreat. Thankfully, she’d reached the stairs when Oliver came striding up, mounting the steps two at a time.
“I need a private word with you.” His clipped voice revealed his displeasure. With his bruised eye, he looked like the devil on a mission to slay souls. “We’ll remove to my chamber.”
“I have other matters to attend to at present.”
“Now, Gwendolyn!” Oliver ushered her back along the corridor and into his room. He slammed the door shut and whirled around to face her. “Have you lost your mind? A respectable woman needs a respectable husband. Garrick is a rogue. Had Mother been here to see the state of you last night, she would have died of apoplexy.”
The mere mention of their mother left her choked with emotion. “If Mother were here, the last five years wouldn’t have been so unbearable. Indeed, she would have seen through your facade. Doubtless she’s turning in her grave, horrified by your duplicity.”
The insult barely roused a grunt. “Garrick is using you to hurt me. He’s out for revenge. You’ll be left here, ruined and alone. I’m of a mind to throw the devil out.”
Did Oliver have something to hide?
Was he clambering for an excuse to get rid of Simon?
“I’ll wager he’s made the whole thing up,” Oliver ranted. “There is no spy. He’s come to Westmore to drive a wedge between us.”
Gwen fought to remain calm. “You drove a wedge between us when you lied to Mr Garrick. When you spent five years lying to me.”
“It was for your own good!” In his anger, he knocked his cufflink box off the chest of drawers. “That bastard has been here for five minutes and already has you in the palm of his hand.”
“That’s not true.”
“He stole your virginity. Don’t dare deny it.”
“He didn’t steal it. I gave it to him.”
Gwen didn’t wait for Oliver’s reply. She darted from his chamber and hurried along the corridors back to her own room. Once there, she changed into sturdy boots, grabbed her ermine-trimmed pelisse and matching muff.
A walk to the harbour would calm her spirit. Moreover, she needed to question Mr Pope about his late-night antics. She wrote Simon a note, gave it to Flanders, then left the house.
She kept to the lanes rather than taking the shorter route across the fields. Snowflakes fell like soft feathers from the heavens. Was it not a sign one should have hope? A belief their problems would be resolved soon?
Her thoughts drifted to the many times Oliver had lied, and how she would be oblivious to his treachery had Simon not returned to catch a spy. Indeed, she had reached the market hall when the thud of footsteps woke her from her reverie.
Simon appeared, panting with exertion, every breath leaving a puff of white mist in the chill air. “I thought we agreed to visit Pope this afternoon?”
