Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“When I think of her I think of a childhood monster. An ogress with long teeth and sharp claws. She isn’t human. She isn’t real.” She shuddered, then glanced at Maeve as she continued to weep. “What about…?”

Sebastian went to open the door. “Polly!” he shouted. In a moment Pretty Polly was there, smiling expectantly. “Take Maeve somewhere safe and watch her. If she escapes it’ll be on your head.”

Polly hauled Maeve to her feet, not ungently, and led her away.

“She said arsenic,” Francesca whispered, when they were alone again.

“Yes.”

“She poisoned my mother, and yet she was sitting here with me and saying how much she loved her. How kind my mother had been to her.” Francesca was appalled by such duplicity.

“Some people can justify anything. I’ve been in the shadows for so long that there isn’t much that shocks me. I’m more surprised when I find something good. Perhaps that’s why I want you, Francesca. I think if I bury myself in you, then some of your goodness will rub off on me.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said gently.

She looked at it for a moment, and then she deliberately folded her arms tightly and walked past him with her head held high.

With a sigh, Sebastian followed after her.

Chapter 22

“You lied to me.” It was the first thing she said as they sat in the dark and musty interior of the cab, bowling through the never sleeping streets of London. “You told me to trust you, and all the time you were lying.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but I had no choice. I was specifically asked not to tell you what I was doing in Yorkshire, and I had to abide by that person’s wishes.”

“By ‘that person’ you mean my mother. She hired you, didn’t she?” Francesca’s voice was accusatory.

“Yes, she did.”

Francesca fell silent. A sudden shower of rain swept across the street in front of them, driving many of the pedestrians into shelter.

“Let me explain,” he said, when it was clear she wasn’t going to ask him to. “Your mother wanted to find Mrs. Slater and her associates. She wanted you and your sisters to be safe; she was also tired of being afraid. I think she even knew that she was being watched. She was certainly aware that she was in danger. When she hired me, she accepted that the danger to her would increase, but she was willing to take that risk, Francesca. She wanted justice. She is a courageous woman.”

“I see.” Francesca cleared her throat. “So when you were in Yorkshire it was because you were looking for Mrs. Slater?”

“Yes. I met Hal, and he told me he knew someone who was a friend of hers. I believed him. But it was a trap, and I nearly died. If it hadn’t been for you…”

“Then you went after Hal again?”

“And this time it was Jed who tried to kill us both. But Hal

told me enough for me to be able to find one of Mrs. Slater’s houses in Mallory Street. The very same one from which you saved Rosie. That’s why I was so concerned for your safety, Francesca.”

“I see that now.” She watched a hackney go rushing by, the driver standing up in his coat of many capes. “Why are we going to see Mrs. March? How can she be involved in all of this?”

“I don’t know.”

“She hates me,” Francesca added thoughtfully. “From the first moment we met, I’ve felt as if she resents me for being here. I thought it was because she’s in love with my uncle, or with what he stands for.”

“We’ll find out the truth,” he promised her.

“Why did Dobson want me to sit with Maeve? Why did you send Polly in while I was there?”

“That was my idea,” he apologized. “I thought you could draw Maeve out, make her comfortable, perhaps even make her feel guilty. You being there was almost like Aphrodite being there, reminding her of what she’d done.”

Francesca nodded. “Sebastian, did you know your father?”

The change in subject was surprising, but he answered her anyway. “Yes, I did.”

“Aphrodite told me tonight that my father is dead. So I will never get to meet him or know what he was like. I didn’t think I wanted to, I told myself I didn’t want to, but now that the choice has been taken away from me…She said he wrote a letter about me and all the things he was planning for me. His name was Tommy.”