Page 53 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
“He did.”
“And he ruled the death due to illness.”
“Yes. However, the circumstances of the new will?—”
“The purported new will,” she interrupted.
“Yes. The purported new will, as well as the dispute over this property, and the alleged disappearance of the, er, copy of the purported new will carried by Sir Morris Pierpont, as well as his untimely death…” He took in a deep breath. “Let me begin again. I’ve been urged to review all the events anew.”
Graeme watched as the color drained from Blythe’s face. Whether she was drawing a mask of calm over herself or about to swoon he couldn’t determine. He moved closer and felt her stiffen. Whatever bit of trust he’d coaxed from her had just vanished.
“Urged by whom?” she asked in a voice as tight as her clenched hands. She turned her gaze on Graeme, a haunted look in her eyes. “You’ve discussed this with Mr. Jarrow.”
He nodded. “Diddenton.”
“Actually, not just the marquess,” Jarrow said, “though he has certainly been hounding me. Will you sit, my lady. I am not here to pass on the hounding to you but to help find the truth.”
“I did not kill my husband,” she said. “I did not wish him dead. I had no influence over his associations with men like Sir Morris or Lord Vernon, or with the women he… he… Many wives do not. Perhaps most. I did not kill wretched Sir Morris either.”
She was well and truly rattled, as she’d been the night before. Graeme put his arm around her shoulders.
Jarrow stepped closer. “Won’t you be seated, my lady? I can see these are painful memories.”
Her back stiffened. “Ask quickly,” she said. “You are interrupting Lord Chilcombe’s introduction to Bluebelle Lodge.” She pressed her lips together and looked up at Graeme. “Or, I’ll take Mr. Jarrow into the study, and you may take tea and cakes with the children. I won’t have them exposed to…” she flapped a hand toward Jarrow, “to this ugliness.”
To his credit, Jarrow’s face reflected curiosity rather than offense as he waited in silence.
“Jarrow is the magistrate, Blythe. He saw the damage done yesterday. Given this new threat, would it not be good for him to meet them?”
Panic flared in her eyes, and he hastened to speak again before she could protest.
“Blythe is raising two children at Bluebelle Lodge. Perhaps your mother has spoken of them. They are her wards, and under my protection now as well.”
“I have heard, my lady,” Jarrow said gently.
“Yes,” Graeme said, “and though I cannot stop them from being shunned by gossips, they will not be barred from the village shops or from the church.”
“Of course not. I shall look forward to seeing all of you there on Sunday and lending my support.”
Graeme exchanged a look with Blythe.
“You mentioned a new threat,” Jarrow said.
Perceptive fellow. And hadn’t he said something they’d passed over? That it wasn’t just Diddenton urging an inquiry?
The sound of laughter and clumping steps reached them.
“Nicholas has been threatened,” Blythe said in a rush. “You must not say anything, Mr. Jarrow. We’ve just learned of this and we haven’t spoken to him yet. You may stay for tea. I’ll just go and assist them.”
She hurried to the door and stepped out of the room. Graeme hoped she was not running away.
He nodded at Jarrow. “Who else is urging this inquiry?”
“Our old commander,” Jarrow said, “and current Lord Lieutenant.”
“What possible interest?—”
“Is there not something peculiar about this property dispute arising just before Chilcombe’s death and the manner of disposition? Perhaps it’s that. Or, perhaps it has to do with diplomatic issues. Better to forestall a war with China than to wage one, do you think? Of course I am only speculating.”
