He was only a dalliance.
He had to be.
Haddon shot her another frosty look.
She lowered her eyes. Marissa told herself he was only annoyed at being dismissed, his ego bruised at having been asked to leave a woman’s bed. She doubted it had ever happened to him before.
Marissa didn’t look up again until she heard the door close.
Brendan stared at the door for a moment before turning to face her. She expected a barrage of questions or even an angry rant from her son, but his pained expression immediately put her on guard.
“What is it?” A slow spill of dread crawled up her spine.
“You’ve got to pack and leave for Somerton immediately, Mother. I’ve ruined Petra.”
Marissa wasn’t shocked by her son’s confession. Brendan and Petra belonged together. Anyone could see it. You’d have to be blind not to. “I assumed as much, but—”
“Mother, I’ve found Reggie.”
“Reggie?” Marissa’s knees buckled at the unexpected news. Her Reggie? Brendan’s father, the previous Earl of Morwick had disappeared so long ago, leaving no trace, she’d finally come to terms with the possibility that he would never be found. There were even rumors, horrible ones, that Reggie had run off with another woman, but Marissa had never believed such a thing. He’d loved her. Reggie had left one day to hike and collect the fossils he loved and never returned. “But, how?”
“His remains were found in a cave, less than an hour’s walk from Brushbriar.”
“That isn’t possible.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t headed toward Brushbriar that day, but up toward the tree line. And John led dozens of men to look for him.” Indeed, the entire countryside had searched for days as John, the current Viscount Pendleton’s father, had become increasingly distraught looking for his friend. Lydia had sat with Marissa for hours waiting for news of Reggie. But he’d never been found. Things had soured with her neighbors soon after. Pendleton had found a large vein of Blue John on his property and Lydia, absorbed with her newfound wealth, had had little time or inclination to tend to Marissa in her grief. The house party was the first time Marissa had been to Brushbriar in years.
“There’s more, Mother.” Brendan gently took her fingers, guiding her to sit on the bed. A stricken look had come over his features as if he couldn’t bear to impart anything further.
“It’s all right, Brendan. I won’t fall to pieces. I’m only surprised.” The news had taken her unawares, but just knowing that finally her beloved Reggie had been found would give Marissa some closure to that chapter of her life. She’d worried for years he hadn’t had a proper burial, his soul trapped forever in limbo. “Did you find him?” Her voice caught. “At the bottom of a ravine? Lodged in a crevice? I was always afraid he’d fall and break his neck. He did so love to roam about and—”
“He was murdered, Mother.” Brendan’s voice shook. “Father was shot.”
“But—” Murdered? Reggie had no enemies. None. He’d been kind. Loving. Absentminded. It was why she’d always thought he’d simply tripped into one of the holes in the limestone while out walking. Flashes and bits of her life with Reggie flew before her eyes in such a fury, she became dizzy.
I loved him so much.
“Are you sure?” she asked, even knowing as she voiced the question that Brendan wasn’t the sort to speculate. He had to be sure, or he wouldn’t have told her. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“For Blue John, Mother. An entire mine full of it.”
“What? No!” She shook her head. “It can’t be true.” Ice seeped up her arms in a cold embrace, the shock threatening to overwhelm her. John and Lydia had become very wealthy after the discovery of the Blue John. Her fingers clutched at Brendan’s arm as she struggled for breath.
It can’t be true.
“The mine isn’t on Pendleton’s land, but mine.” Brendan tenderly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. “I found the proof, Mother. It was Simon’s father, John, who shot him.” Brendan’s voice caught, deceptively soft. “And Lydia helped. Simon has known the truth of it for years.”
As Brendan finished speaking, he pressed a kiss to Marissa’s temple before pushing her face against his chest in time to stifle the anguished scream erupting from her lips.
2
“My vision of a widower is an older gentleman with gout. He doesn’t exactly fit the bill, does he? I’d no idea,” a pause, “that he was moldering away in the country.”
“I doubt very much he lacks for companionship, despite being so far from London. I wonder if he’s looking for a wife. He has been gone from society for some time. Hopefully he hasn’t brought those dreadful daughters along with him.”
“I’m sure he has.”
“I suppose a new wife could send them all off to boarding school.” A twitter. “He’s quite skilled in the bedroom, according to the gossips. Perhaps I shall take him as a lover.”
The smile on Marissa’s lips faltered at hearing the conversation behind her. The newspapers had been full of the handsome widower’s return to society after so many years. Although, if he was looking for a new wife, Marissa wondered that he had to come all the way to London to find one. Haddon could surely have found someone closer to home. Although, she supposed London held a variety of amusements for an attractive, charming gentleman.
“Haddon has many admirers.” The woman behind Marissa lowered her voice to a discreet murmur. “He’ll have no trouble finding a wife among them.”
A small speck of pain, unexpected and unwelcome, tightened across her chest. Marissa was sure she’d left anything akin to tender emotion behind in the Peak District. Purposefully.
“Marissa? What is it?”
Adelia, Lady Waterstone, Marissa’s closest friend and confidant, peered at her, pretty face alit with concern. “I daresay you’ve become quite pale. Shall I pinch your cheeks?”
Adelia’s tower of auburn hair tilted in Marissa’s direction. Styled in an elegant display of curls
