Page 22 of One Wicked Secret
Clara’s bottom lip quivered. “Miss Woodall must be busy thinking about her trousseau.”
“Or mixing a poison so she might escape this ill-fated marriage, too,” he said, the bitterness in his tone stirring memories of how narrowly Elsa had avoided marrying Lord Denby. “As to you, Miss Dalton, have you come from a woodland masquerade?”
Keen to change the subject, Daniel cleared his throat, butClara stepped forward and raised her feathered eye patch. “No, I merely wish to avoid gawpers.”
Lord Rutland stared at Clara’s scar and milky eye, his face turning as pale as a corpse in the moonlight. His Adam’s apple bobbed tirelessly. “What in God’s name happened?” He shot Daniel a questioning look, one filled with horror and disbelief. “It appears you’ve kept many things from your closest friends.”
“I had an accident while riding,” Clara revealed.
“When?” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
Clara covered her eye with the patch. “Two years ago.”
“Two years? Forgive me. I didn’t know.”
Daniel knocked back the drink he had poured himself. “Clara made me promise not to mention it, and I honoured her request.”
“You mustn’t pity me, my lord. I must deal with the hand life dealt me. There are much worse hardships.”
No one spoke.
The air in the room thickened.
Daniel broke the silence, mentioning the reason for their visit. “I’m here because I desperately need your help. I need you to come with us to Chippenham. I’ve sent word to Rothley and am confident he’ll meet us there.”
“Chippenham? Tonight?” Lord Rutland glanced at the study door and groaned. “Could you not have given me prior warning?”
“I would have but my wife caught me unawares.”
“Have you summoned Gentry?”
“No, the man deserves some peace after his recent ordeal, and he leaves for the Cotswolds in the morning. I’ll explain everything when he returns.”
“Am I to pack for a day, a week, a fortnight?”
“A week should suffice. We’ll stay here for a few hours and head to Chippenham together just before dawn. The journey will take most of the day, and I would prefer to arrive at Thorncroft under cover of darkness.”
The viscount’s gaze flicked to Clara. “All of us?”
“Yes.”
Lord Rutland nodded. “Make yourselves comfortable while I cancel my previous engagement. I’ll have Hockton light the fire and fetch refreshments.” A knowing look passed between the men. “Should you hear a commotion, I insist you keep the study door closed.”
The viscount left and the butler entered, along with a sleepy-eyed footman. While the latter lit the fire, Hockton went to fetch tea.
They heard raised voices, a woman’s angry demand and the crack of shattering glass. The quarrel spilled into the hall, the conversation as clear as the peel of a church bell at night.
“Will you push me aside when you’re married?”
The viscount groaned. “We agreed this was a casual arrangement. As I’ve said many times, I intend to be faithful to my wife.”
His mistress scoffed. “We’ll be discreet. God knows you’ll be desperate for affection if you marry Miss Woodall.”
“I am marrying Miss Woodall.”
“Then you’ll need someone to warm your bed.”
“That task will fall to my wife.”
