Page 28 of Mine This Winter
The lord seemed lost in a moment of confusion.
Simon sought to offer clarity. “I’m inclined to believe you’re a traitor to your country. I’ll wager I’ll find a list of British spies hidden in the house.” He decided to bend the truth. “Mrs Astley said your mistress means to use you to exact revenge for the death of her brother.”
The viscount cursed. “I’m a peer of the realm. Loyal to the King. Why the hell would I risk the noose for a casual encounter?”
“Why would I write to a wife I don’t have?” Recognition dawned. Was Myrtle planting letters, not finding them? “Might this be an attempt by the real traitor to stir up a hornet’s nest?”
The lord frowned in disbelief. “But I might have shot you.”
“I wouldn’t have shot you. Gwendolyn means too much to me.” She might never forgive him for killing her brother. He’d rather die than have her lose faith in him again. “Whereas you’re seeking a way to justify your actions.”
The viscount had the decency to look ashamed. “As her brother, I have a right to shoot the man who left her damaged.”
“Then, shoot yourself. You broke her bloody heart.” A sudden pang in his chest stole his breath. If the real traitor wanted them to kill each other, did that mean Gwendolyn was in danger? “If you’ve finished acting the hero, we should return to the house. It’s like we’re puppets and someone is pulling our strings. If we mean to discover who, we must work together.”
They hurried back to Westmore. Despite searching the main rooms, Gwendolyn was nowhere to be found.
The guests were enjoying hot punch and playing piquet in the games room.
Simon spotted Miss Netherwell sitting alone in the corner. “Have you seen Miss Caldwell? She wished to speak to you about playing the pianoforte before dinner tonight.”
After her shock at being addressed directly, Miss Netherwell nodded. “She asked to speak to me privately, but her flustered maid interrupted us.”
Her maid?
Suspicion flared.
“What was so important?”
Miss Netherwell shrugged. “I heard mention of a meeting at Whitney Grange.” A blush rose to her pale cheeks. “I wondered if you had arranged an assignation. Miss Caldwell seemed eager to leave but insisted the maid accompany her.”
Fear snaked up Simon’s spine. When they parted, Gwendolyn knew he was to question Lord Bancroft. They’d arranged to meet later in the orangery and share a kiss along with their findings.
The viscount gave a mocking snort. “Perhaps she wants to inspect her future home before she accepts your proposal,” he whispered for Simon’s ears only. “The place isn’t fit for a dog.”
“She would have spoken to me first.”
“Like the rest of us, perhaps Miss Caldwell is bored,” Mrs Astley said with a deep sigh. “The lack of entertainment is shocking.”
“You’re welcome to leave,” the viscount snapped. “While on the subject of entertainment, perhaps you might explain why you’re spreading lies about me to all and sundry. Who told you I had a French mistress and meant to get rid of my sister?”
While the other guests paled, Mrs Astley’s mouth curled into a sly grin. “Reliable information always comes from those with nothing to gain. A lowly maid has no cause to lie.”
Simon’s heart constricted. The pieces of the puzzle were slotting into place. “The same maid who encouraged Miss Caldwell to leave for Whitney Grange?”
Mrs Astley turned to her sister. “What is that girl’s name?”
“Myrtle,” Miss Netherwell said. “The maid who’s always lurking in the shadows.”
CHAPTER 10
Gwen was so scared she could barely put one foot before the other. Her worst fears had been realised. Oliver had summoned Simon to Whitney Grange and meant to make him pay for stealing her virtue. She pushed through the snow-covered fields, desperate to reach the Grange before Oliver did something stupid.
Please don’t shoot him!
“Keep up, Myrtle. The cold won’t kill you.”
With the snow inches deep, the maid lagged behind. Perhaps it was unwise to force her to come, but Oliver would not embarrass himself in front of his staff. And if Oliver was the spy, was it not better to have a witness to his crimes?
