Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Tina wondered how she was meant to sleep with all this going on, but she didn’t have the heart to argue, and lay down, abandoning herself to the soft feather mattress, and let Maria draw the covers over her and tuck her in. The fragrance of roses drifted in from the open windows—the storm had blown itself out, and the air was still and calm once again.

To her surprise she did sleep, but it was a restless slumber, with snatches of nightmares interrupting memories of the folly and Richard’s arms. When the face of the man in the library suddenly jumped into a dream about swimming with Richard in the river, Tina sat up with wide-open eyes.

The room was in darkness apart from a flickering lamp, and someone was knocking on her bedroom door. Maria, who also looked to have been dozing, hurried over to answer it.

“Who is it?” she demanded.

“Lady Isabelle. May I come in and speak with Miss Smythe for a moment?”

Tina nodded to Maria and, climbing out of bed, draped a robe about herself to cover her underclothing. Lady Isabelle came into the room as Maria hastened to turn up the lamp to brighten the gloom.

“My dear Miss Smythe, is there anything I can do?”

Tina, allowing her hands to be taken in her hostess’s warm grip, looked into her compassionate eyes and felt like weeping.

“Sir Henry has told me the whole story. I find it difficult to believe that such dreadful things have been happening here, in my home.”

“Lord Horace,” Tina whispered, a lump still in her throat.

“Horace, yes?”

“He would never . . . Lady Isabelle, believe me, Horace may be unpleasant sometimes and . . . and arrogant, but he would never do the things they are saying he has done.”

Lady Isabelle squeezed her hands. “My dear, I, too, find it difficult to believe Lord Horace guilty, but my husband assures me he will get to the bottom of this situation. If your Horace is innocent, then he will be found to be so. My husband is an honest man, and I’d trust him with my life.”

Tina tried to take comfort from what she was saying.

Lady Isabelle led her to the window seat, and they sat down facing each other with the darkening garden and river behind them.

“I am more worried about you, Miss Smythe. This person you saw in the library, the man who frightened you so, I hope he may be far away by now, but if not . . . well, we must put our faith in Mr. Eversham and Mr. Jackson. My husband tells me they are both extremely capable men and will keep you safe from harm.”

“Yes. I just hope it will not be for very long,” Tina said in a little voice. “I want to go home. There are reasons I cannot . . . my mother needs me.”

“Well, I’m sure she will understand why you are prevented from returning just now.”

Tina wished she was as confident, but she thought it more likely Lady Carol had taken to her bed again and, in her darker moments, imagined she was being moved, bed and all, to the family’s new location—probably a nasty little hovel by the docks.

Lady Isabelle glanced over at Maria, but the maid was busy at the hearth, stoking the coals into a warm blaze. Lady Isabelle lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Mr. Eversham cares for you, Tina. I don’t know whether that is of interest to you, but I think it is. There are rumors that you have already given your heart to Lord Horace, and if so . . . But I wanted to say this to you, in case you are in a quandary. Women marry for many reasons: security and duty and familiarity. And love. I think if I had been able to, I would have married for love. Not that I don’t admire my husband and have a great affection for him, for I do. But there has always been something lacking in my life, and my search for it has made Sir Henry, and I, miserable at times.”

She sighed, and Tina was aware Lady Isabelle was generously sharing something that was important to her in the hope it would help Tina.

“I did think I was in love with Mr. Eversham,” Tina admitted at last, “but now . . . I don’t know. He isn’t the man I thought him. How could I have been so wrong, believing I understood him so well, and yet he was a different man altogether? That frightens me, Lady Isabelle, and makes me wonder what else I might have got wrong about him.”

“My dear, I think you will find you do know him.”

Tina shook her head wildly. “No, I don’t. And now, with Horace . . . I can’t abandon him, can I? Even if I don’t love him in the same way as . . . well, we have been friends forever.”

“Hush, Tina, calm yourself. You are too overwrought at the moment to make a decision about anything. Give yourself time to reflect. That has always been my mistake, rushing into a thing in the heat of passion and repenting at leisure.”

Tina had never been one to rush into anything in the heat of passion. She was the practical one, the sensible one. And yet lately she seemed to have lost her no-nonsense air completely. “I will try, my lady.”

“Well then. I hope you will avoid the same mistakes as I. We are both passionate women, Tina, and I think that is why we must marry for love.”

She leaned forward to kiss Tina’s cheek and rose to her feet, turning to the maid. “Maria, Mr. Eversham asked me to tell you that he is ready to leave now. I will send some servants up to collect Miss Smythe’s luggage.” And then she was gone, the fragrance of her perfume lingering a moment after the door closed.

Maria began to hurry about, helping Tina into her traveling dress and cloak, gathering together her own belongings. Shortly afterward the servants came for the luggage, and Tina and Maria followed them down the stairs.

The coach rattled down the long carriageway, leaving the brightly lit Arlington Hall in its wake. Richard and Will sat opposite Tina and Maria, but Archie was outside, ru