Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

She could hear Maria hovering, but eventually her maid drifted off, folding clothing and putting it away, turning down the lamp, and setting the fire screen about the fireplace. Tina was beginning to float into her longed-for sleep when she heard the faint click of the door closing as Maria left the room.

Tina sighed. At last she was alone. Now she could cry all she wanted to. But strangely enough she no longer wanted to. She was sick and tired of the Evershams, and she had more pride than to allow them to make her cry. From now on, she would maintain a dignified disinterest.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed into the soft mattress, and in another moment she was asleep.

Sutton stood a moment, listening to the world around him, but there was nothing that shouldn’t be there. He’d seen the outriders leaving earlier but didn’t find anything suspicious in it. Doubtless Eversham believed himself safe here and was not expecting Sutton to have followed him from Arlington Hall. There were servants watching the entrances to the house, but they were easy meat to a man like him.

With a cruel twist of his lips, Sutton approached Eversham Manor.

Tina woke in an instant. There was no confusion, no in-between moment when she imagined she was dreaming. She was awake, lying frozen in her bed, a hand hard across her mouth.

She screamed, except she barely made a sound, and then she flung herself about, arms trying to strike out, legs kicking.

He lay on top of her, his heavy weight bearing her down into the soft mattress until it seemed to be swallowing her up like quicksand.

“Tina, in God’s name . . . it’s me . . . it’s Richard . . .”

She stopped, uncertain, peering at him through the gloom.

“Sshh, don’t wake Evelyn, please. She’s still up, creeping around, watching us. That’s why I had to wait so long to come to you. Tina? Can I remove my hand? Will you be quiet now?”

She waited until he took his hand away, and then she wriggled out from under him, as far as possible to the side of the mattress. She was breathing quickly, and her heart was thudding heavily, but that was anger rather than fear.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered furiously. “I thought it was him. Sutton.”

“I’m sorry,” he said regretfully. “I just need to talk to you, Tina, and Evelyn hasn’t left us alone together for a moment since we arrived.”

She was tempted, very tempted, to order him from the room. How dare he frighten her like this? But common sense prevailed. She knew they needed

to talk, that he probably had official things to say to her, and Evelyn had been very evident.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she said at last, with a trace of huffiness, to let him know she still wasn’t completely appeased.

Richard turned onto his side, facing her, and she found herself doing the same, although there was still a safe distance between them. Just as well, because Tina had no intention of doing anything other than talk.

“I don’t know what Evelyn’s told you—”

“Your sister-in-law and I have no secrets,” she assured him.

Richard gave a groan. “I was afraid of that.”

She watched him, trying to read his expression in the darkness, preparing herself for more lies. She wouldn’t believe him this time, no matter how plausible he was, she’d not be hurt by him again. And yet, as he began to speak, Tina found herself listening despite herself, caught up in his spell.

“I grew up here at Eversham Manor. My brother, Anthony, was three years older than I, and we were the best of friends. We didn’t realize at the time of course, but our life was idyllic until our mother died. She was a great believer in freedom; we played outside—had no lessons until I was six—no formal lessons. In fact our mother was teaching us constantly—we went for long walks on the weald, and she taught us the names of the plants and birds—she was the daughter of a bishop and a very well educated woman. She would read to us every night.”

“Your life does sound idyllic,” Tina said, and found herself smiling before she remembered they were no longer friends and stopped.

“Father would join in at times, but even then he was a rather distant figure. We didn’t realize that it was our mother who made us a family until she died. It was sudden, she didn’t suffer, a failure of her heart the doctor thought. We missed her terribly, but it was worse than that. With her gone everything changed.”

Despite herself Tina found her heart aching for the little boy he’d been then.

“We needed our father, but he just became more distant. Mother was the most important person in our lives, but to him she was his whole life. As time went on and the grief lifted, Anthony and I learned to look to the servants and each other for comfort. We became closer than ever and, being the elder, he took it upon himself to look after me.

“It was the same at school. He protected me from the bullies, made sure I wasn’t too homesick. I relied on him . . . too much. When we came home again, nothing had changed, our father was probably more distant than ever, and spent most of his time reading in his study or walking the countryside. He didn’t need us, barely acknowledged us.

“Anthony stayed down here, running the estate, quite happy with country life. When our father died, I was off in London, enjoying myself. I had a substantial allowance and saw no need to spend it wisely, and I found plenty of people who were only too willing to help me spend it. I was a fool, but I was a happy fool, or so I thought.

“Then I met Evelyn.”