To Bed a Beaty

The Marquess of Claybourne frowned. “You told me about the shooting last week, old chap, but you never mentioned your latest little adventure. I missed out on all the fun.”

Drew threw down his napkin and rose to his feet. “I want to see the cellar, Pointon.”

Eleanor gave an exasperated sigh. “Will someone please explain to me why a thief would be lurking in the wine cellar?”

Drew answered tersely. “Most likely he was hiding until after the household was asleep so he could search without being caught.”

Roslyn added more patiently, “We believe he is looking for a particular brooch belonging to Lady Freemantle.”

All eyes went to Winifred, who was fingering the enamel brooch pinned to her gown while staring down at her dinner plate. Her normally florid complexion was waxen, her lips pinched and bloodless.

Roslyn was concerned for her friend. No doubt it was terribly distressing to Winifred to have a villain break into her home for the second time after being held up in a highway robbery. She would feel extremely vulnerable, being at the mercy of the elusive villain.

Drew spoke to reassure Winifred. “I’ll discover his identity, my lady, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He started to leave the dining room when Winifred finally found her voice.

“I think I know who the culprit is,” she murmured in a barely audible rasp.

Drew halted and glanced down the length of the table at her. “Who is it then?”

Her expression pained, she lifted her gaze to Drew but hesitated to answer. “Perhaps we could discuss this in private, your grace, so as not to spoil everyone else’s dinner?”

“Would you like us to leave?” Jane asked quietly.

“No, please,” Roslyn interjected. “You needn’t leave.” Pushing her chair back, she stood. “Winifred, dearest, let us repair to the green parlor for a moment.”

“Yes, that would be best.”

Clearly disconsolate, Winifred sent an apologetic glance around the dining room, then rose slowly and preceded Roslyn and Drew to the parlor.

When the door closed behind them, Winifred murmured in a hoarse voice, “Thank you, your grace. It is ill- bred to speak of such things in polite company.”

At her apparent distress, Roslyn grew even more concerned. “Speak of what things, Winifred? Please tell us what is wrong.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, Drew rephrased his question. “You said you know the thief’s identity, my lady?”

“Yes,” she replied, her expression one of misery. “I believe I do. He is my late husband’s by-blow. Rupert’s natural son by his mistress.”

Chapter Fourteen

I have come to realize my strategy is flawed. Seduction and passion may not lead to love after all. Deeper emotions must be involved for the heart to become engaged.

– Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn felt her breath catch at the startling admission. “Sir Rupert’s son, Winifred?”

Wincing, Winifred nodded. “I hoped it wasn’t true, but there seems to be no other explanation. I didn’t wish to speak of it in front of the others, though. It distresses me to have the world know about my late husband’s shameful affair.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Winifred?”

“Yes, perhaps I should.”

When she sank heavily onto a sofa, Roslyn sat beside her and took her hand. “Now tell us why you think the thief is Sir Rupert’s son,” she urged gently.

“I recognized the resemblance when he ran past me the other day. He’s the spitting image of Rupert-both his features and his hair. Rupert’s hair was that ginger color before it started turning gray.”

“But the thief could be related to him in some other fashion.”

“Mayhap, but I don’t believe so,” Winifred replied, her tone taking on a stubborn edge.

Drew broke in. “I’m curious, my lady. Why did you wait to mention your suspicions until tonight?”

Winifred looked down at her hands. “To be honest, I was ashamed. And the news of your betrothal was so exciting, the thief went entirely out of my mind.” She glanced back up at Roslyn. “I didn’t want to spoil your happiness, dear, by making you dwell on my troubles.”

“But this is not only your trouble, Winifred. His grace and I are deeply involved.”

“And I regret that, truly.”

“Why don’t you let us be the judge? Tell us what you know.”

“I will have to explain about my marriage to Rupert so you will understand.” Haltingly then, Winifred began to tell the tale. “When Rupert met me, he was nearly penniless, while my father was one of the richest merchants in England. Our union was strictly a business arrangement. Papa…bought a baronet for me, so his only daughter could become a lady and move up in the world and have the advantages he was never able to have. Rupert was willing enough, however. He contracted with Papa for my hand, exchanging his title for the security of having a rich wife. But he didn’t receive my fortune outright, just an enormous settlement.”

“That is unusual, isn’t it?” Roslyn asked.

“Yes, but that was the only way Papa would agree to the union. He tied up my inheritance in trust to protect me and any eventual children I might have. Yet Rupert was able to live quite comfortably on the income. And our marriage was amiable enough, even though he never came to love me the way I did him.” Winifred’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “I was hardly his ideal bride. I was rather plump and plain, and a bit coarse in my manner, too. Rupert preferred a more genteel sort of lady, as I discovered later.”

“Later?”

“After we were wed, I learned he had taken a mistress. One hears things…gossip. Some people are needlessly cruel; the real ladies are the worst. They took glee in telling me of the rumors. Pitying me, laughing at me behind their fans. That was how I learned his paramour was genteel. I never knew her name but she was the love of his life before he was compelled to marry me. It wasn’t until Rupert was lost to her as a husband that she gave up her respectability to become his mistress. And then…I heard she bore him a child.” Pausing, Winifred drew a shuddering breath.

“Are you all right?” Roslyn asked, concerned.

“Yes…it’s just painful to remember.”

“Here, drink this,” Drew said, urging a snifter into Winifred’s hand. He had poured her a measure of brandy from the side table, Roslyn realized.

The elder lady sipped absently, her thoughts seeming far away.

“Go on,” Roslyn said gently after a long moment.

Winifred nodded. “Despite my dismay, I turned a blind eye to Rupert’s infidelities. Never acknowledged or let on that I knew. At first I didn’t want to face the truth that he was unfaithful. I had my pride, after all. And well…I thought he deserved happiness. I wanted him to be happy. Rupert never loved me as I loved him, but he was always a very kind and considerate husband, and he shielded me as much possible from the vicious harpies who spurned me for my low origins.”

Her jaw locked for a moment before she determinedly drained the rest of the brandy in one long swallow. Then she coughed a little before continuing. “And the thing is…I didn’t want him to be punished for my failings. You see, even after a number of years of marriage, I was never able to give him children or a legitimate heir to his title. When I realized I was likely barren, I was actually glad he had a child by another woman. Gentlemen want sons, you know.” Her voice dropped. “His son would be about sixteen years of age now…although the thief looked a bit older than that when I glimpsed him.”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I thought I could be indifferent, but it hurts to have blatant proof of his adultery.”