Page 45 of Mentor to the Marquess
“I’m giving you exactly what you deserve.”
Mr. Dawson’s ominous comment echoed in Olivia’s mind. Even though she had never met him, he knew that before the earl’s death, she had been gathering evidence to petition for divorce under the Matrimonial Causes Act, something she had kept a closely guarded secret. The only person who had known was the earl… and anyone he had told.
That was proof enough for her that Mr. Dawson was in league with the late Earl of Allen’s mistress.
The only thing left to find out was the identity of said lady. They could not threaten Mr. Dawson without risking Constance, but perhaps the woman could be reasoned with, or persuaded in some other way.
Unfortunately, she had few clues, beyond the woman being blonde, married, and a member of the gentry. Mrs. Zephyr was unlikely to remember their conversation in the morning, much less be willing to elaborate.
There had to be someone else who had seen her husband’s mistress enter her home. A carriage driver. A street sweeper. Perhaps if she brought sketches of different women to Boris, it would jog his memory.
Thel shook her shoulders, scrambling her thoughts. She was no longer standing in the ballroom but sitting in an armchair in a candlelit office with Thel gazing at her face.
“Tell me what to do,” he said.
She should have confessed everything: that she had arranged for Constance to sneak away with Mr. Dawson and test him, that her plan had failed, and now Constance was betrothed. Worse, Olivia had no idea what Mr. Dawson was planning. He couldn’t intend to keep Constance unaware of his lies for three more years.
Thel cupped her cheek in his hand. “You can trust me.”
She leaned into his touch and forced her stiff muscles to relax even as fear of what he might do if she angered him caused her words to curdle in her throat.
“That’s better,” Thel said. “I thought you might faint, and I wasn’t keen on carrying your unconscious body back to the carriage.”
She imagined him being caught by a laundry maid while prowling through the hallways with her limp form draped across his shoulder like a barbarian and giggled.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Laughter suits you.”
She indulged him for a long moment before pulling away. As Mr. Dawson had passed Constance’s test—although she doubted he had meant anything he had told the young girl—so had Thel passed hers. She owed him the truth.
“Mr. Dawson is here because of me,” she said before filling him in on what she had instructed Constance to do. “I took a chance. If it had worked, we might have been free of him.” She clenched her back teeth together. “Now she is more confident in him than ever.”
He knelt in front of her and put his hand on her thigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She turned her head away. “I didn’t think you would approve.”
He shoved to his feet. “Of course I don’t approve!”
She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg for his forgiveness, but that would do nothing to resolve the problem they faced.
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “There’s more.” She told him about her brief conversation with Mrs. Zephyr and her subsequent suspicions.
“A blonde, married woman.” Thel exhaled harshly through his nostrils. “It could be one of a hundred different ladies. How do we narrow it down?”
“I will consultDebrett’s Peerage,” she said. “That is, at least, a place to start.” Even if it meant many long nights at her desk trying to summon a mental image of each name in the book.
“I could speak to Mrs. Zephyr,” he said.
She shook her head. “She would not tell you anything that sensitive without first securing an invitation to your bed.” The woman was too conniving, and she’d already made her interest in Thel clear.
He shuddered. “In that case, I’ll leave her to you.”
“That still leaves Mr. Dawson,” she said. He was the more immediate threat, having sauntered into her trap without triggering the snare. That meant he would likely see through any obvious attempt she made at manipulation.
The connection between her former husband’s jealous mistress and Mr. Dawson still eluded her. She had searched the earl’s paperwork, but there was no mention of him. She didn’t know if he was the puppet master or a pawn in another woman’s game. His actions had not endeared her to him, but she had to consider the possibility that she had only focused on him because her past colored any man like the earl as a monster.
Then she remembered the bruises on Lady Mason’s arm and realized the only thing that mattered was removing Constance from Mr. Dawson’s reach. The longer she remainedattached to him, the more likely she would wind up dead or chained to a man who treated her as a possession.
She forced her thoughts back on track. “He has power over us as long as he continues commissioning the articles and has his hooks in Constance.”
