Page 106 of The Art of Sinning
“Oh, dear, what’s wrong?” Yvette asked. “I do so want us to be friends, and I feel as if somehow I’ve insulted you. I assure you it was unintentional. Sometimes my tongue just runs away with me, and—”
“It’s not you, my la—Yvette. And please, do call me Amanda.” She hesitated, then drew Yvette down the hall to where it was a bit more private. “I don’t mean to be rude, but how much did my brother tell you about his marriage to Hannah Miller?”
Yvette suddenly found it hard to breathe. “I believe he told me everything. That his wife died in childbirth after they’d been married only six months.”
“Yes, but did he tell you how it devastated him? Especially given my father’s part in causing her death—”
“What do you mean?” A chill froze her spine. “If she died in childbirth, it was no one’s fault.”
“It was a bit more complicated than that. And Jeremy has never gotten over it.” Amanda searched Yvette’s face. “That’s the only thing that worries me about his sudden decision to marry you after you’ve only known each other, what, a month or two?”
“A little less than that.” The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “But I believe that he’s sincere in his wish to marry.”
“I’m sure he is. But—” The woman cast Yvette a pitying look. “Well, the thing is, you’re the very image of his late wife. She too was tall, dark-haired, green-eyed, and sweet-faced. I fear that—forgive me for being blunt—he’s marrying you simply because he can’t get past what happened. He’s trying to re-create his first marriage so he can do it right this time.”
Good Lord. Could that really be? Yvette couldn’t bear to believe it. “While I know that his wife’s death was difficult for him, I—”
“It’s why he won’t return home, why he hasn’t remarried. Why I have to fight to get him even to talk about the future of the mills. He hates them, you know. He blames them and their hold on Papa for Hannah’s death. I thought once Papa died he would get past it at last, but I don’t know if he can, givenhowshe died.”
Yvette couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d been ignoring his secretiveness regarding his past. But now she realized it was even worse than she’d feared. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I like you, and I hate to see you head blindly into a marriage with a man who has been shattered—may always be shattered—by the past.” When Yvette made some inarticulate sound, remorse flooded Amanda’s face. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was wrong of me to interfere. If the two of you are in love—”
“To use your words, it’s a bit more... complicated than that,” Yvette choked out.
Amanda looked alarmed, then guilty. Taking Yvette by the arm, she led her into the dining room nearby. “Here, sit down. I’ll go fetch you some wine.”
Before the woman could leave, Yvette caught her sleeve. “No, I’m fine.” Or she would be. In a couple of decades, perhaps. She fought for calm, fought to steady herself. “Please. I’ve asked your brother a number of times to tell me the source of his conflict with your parents, but he won’t answer. Will you tell me?”
Miss Keane turned ashen. “I’ve really gone and done it, haven’t I? He’ll never forgive me for saying anything in the first place.”
“I’m glad you did.” Though her heart was fracturing into little pieces, Yvette forced some steel into her spine and patted the chair beside her. “I have to know what I’m getting myself into, and he won’t tell me. So please, I beg you, willyou?”
The woman stared at her bleakly a long moment.
Then at last she gave a terse nod and dropped into the chair. “What exactly is it you wish to know?”
Twenty-Six
Jeremy was surprised that the earl didn’t ask for Samuel’s letter the moment they set off, but apparently Bonnaud’s presence kept him in check. Meanwhile, Bonnaud spent the ride congratulating Jeremy on his impending marriage, while Jeremy spent it trying not to think about what his mother and sister might be saying to Yvette.
One thing he could count on. Though he wasn’t so sure about Amanda, Mother would never tell Yvette the details of Hannah’s death. She’d always resisted discussing Father’s actions. Someday he’d have to tell Yvette everything himself, but not yet. He still couldn’t bear the idea of her knowing how his selfishness had cost Hannah her life.
As soon as they arrived, Bonnaud introduced Blakeborough to Miss Moreton. From the moment she brought her son forward, everything changed. Even Jeremy could see that the lad resembled the earl to an astonishing degree. Indeed, Blakeborough was visibly shaken, then let out a long-suffering sigh, as if already realizing he was doomed to take on another dependent.
But what really settled the matter was when Jeremy gave Miss Moreton the letter. She opened it warily. After reading it, however, she looked a bit dazed as she sat turning the pages over in her hand.
“I should like to see what my brother wrote,” Blakeborough said, more a command than a request.
A sudden anxious look crossed her face. “My lord, I want you to know that I had no idea of what he was planning, and no involvement whatsoever in—”
“The letter, Miss Moreton.”
Swallowing hard, she handed it to Blakeborough, who read it aloud so Jeremy and Bonnaud could hear it, too:
Dearest Peg,
If you’re reading this, then my sister succeeded in posting it. I’m sure you’ve heard of my trial and sentence of transportation. It was only after I was in Newgate that I learned you had left the stage. One of my boxing associates saw you at Mrs. Beard’s some months ago. He made inquiries and learned of our son.
