Page 46 of Evidence of Evil
“Something Frances seems to have been investigating,” Solomon replied. They had agreed not to worry Elizabeth with this until they were sure of the facts. “I expect it’s unimportant, but I should make sure.”
“We shall miss you,” Elizabeth said with a warm smile that seemed to surprise Solomon. It caused a strange, unspecific pain in Constance that he regarded his value to others only according to his usefulness. He probably had more friends than he was ever aware of.
At the railway station, he climbed down, bade them a casual good morning, and, with a tip of his hat, sauntered off to buy his ticket.
“What a veryobligingman,” Elizabeth remarked as the horses set off again. “Are you sure you are only friends?”
“Yes,” Constance said. She wondered if she sounded disappointed. “My profession would always stand in the way of anything else. Supposing either of us were interested.”
“But it doesn’t stand in the way of friendship,” Elizabeth pointed out.
Constance met her gaze. “You didn’t tell Sir Humphrey about all your past, did you?”
Elizabeth’s eyes fell. She shook her head. “I told him about the baby, and how you took me in. I…omitted the bit in the middle. As you say, some truths would always come between us.”
Considering what Frances had told Humphrey, and the marital tensions that now existed, they had already comebetween them. But at least she could put Elizabeth’s mind to rest on one subject.
“Frances lied. About being pregnant, at the very least.”
Elizabeth caught her breath. “There was no baby?”
“No. And I’m equally sure there was no affair. Where on earth would he have found the time, apart from anything else? He loves you, Elizabeth. And I believe he is an honorable man.”
Tears sprang to Elizabeth’s eyes. “He deserves better than me.”
“No,” Constance said fiercely. “You’ve never changed who you are. You were always a good woman, and you still are.”
Elizabeth grasped her hand and squeezed. “So are you, Constance. If only people knew…”
“Oh, I rather like being outrageous,” Constance said lightly. “Though it amuses me to play the respectable lady. I’m becoming quite adept at it, don’t you think?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Very adept.”
“So tell me about the Darbys. Mr. Darby in particular…”
Chapter Ten
Leighton Darby wasa man who had everything. Unlike most privileged people, he was well aware of his good fortune and excessively pleased by it. Born into a family of ancient lineage and considerable wealth, he had increased his personal riches considerably by his judicious marriage to the heiress, Annabelle Niall.
Annabelle was one of those glacial, very English beauties, though she doted on Darby. He rather suspected they both regarded the other as some kind of trophy to flaunt in public. Which suited him quite well, for it meant he could do more or less as he liked in private.
He was the proud possessor of several houses, though this one, Shelton Hall, had become his favorite. Handsome and gracious, it stood in a delightful park, surrounded by excellent woodland for hunting and shooting. He held excellent parties there, where his wife was the perfect hostess and he generally had the pick of his friends’ wives. And daughters.
Oh yes, Darby was a happy man.
He was even happier when he was informed that Lady Maule and her friend had called on his wife, who had requested his company in the drawing room. Darby, happy to oblige—for Lady Maule was a taking little thing with a positive bear of a husband—hurried to obey his lady’s summons.
No doubt there would be some lovely gossip, too, for his wife’s cousin Frances Niall—distantcousin, as he assured hismany friends—had been fished dead out of Maule’s lake. Foul play was suspected. People remembered only too well that Maule had once been expected to marry poor Frances.
Even now, the memory of her made him smile.
He was still smiling when he walked into the drawing room. His gaze went straight to the delightful Lady Maule, but it was the other visitor who deprived him of breath.
She was so stunning, he didn’t catch her name at first, merely prowled toward her before he managed to recall his manners and bow over her ladyship’s hand. “Lady Maule, always a pleasure.”
She withdrew her hand with modest decorum. “My good friend Mrs. Grey, who is staying with us at The Willows for a little.”
Mrs. Grey’s smile was dazzling, and her mouth… Desire tore through him. He had to have her.
