Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“Because the spy—Maeve—has been seen visiting Mrs. March. Now, you’d have to agree that it would make sense for Mrs. Slater to have a spy in your household as well as the club, in case there was any news about your sister and her family that needed to be passed on.”

William flared up. “What you are saying is preposterous! Mrs. March is a honest and diligent woman. I have no doubt as to her loyalty to me and my family.”

Mrs. March glowed. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured.

“Then tell us why Maeve was here?” Francesca cried. “If it means nothing, if this is all a mistake, tell us!”

“I didn’t know her name,” Mrs. March retorted. “She came and told me she had a message from my mother and I let her in, but it was a lie. She didn’t know my mother. So I sent her on her way and never saw her again.”

Was it possible? The woman’s chin was up in a belligerent manner and her eyes were flickering from one face to another, waiting to see if she was believed.

“You see?” William said quietly. “There was a reasonable explanation. Now, can we be left in peace to—”

“I don’t believe you,” Sebastian broke in.

Mrs. March’s mouth opened, then closed again. She shot William a pleading look.

“Mrs. March?” Sebastian said quietly. “The truth, if you please.”

“Tell him,” William instructed her. “What are you waiting for?”

“If you don’t tell me, then I will have to call in the police to ask the questions,” Sebastian went on.

William’s nostrils flared, as if he’d smelled something bad. “The police?”

“It will probably be necessary to have the police here anyway,” Sebastian went on, sensing weakness.

Mrs. March must also have seen something in her employer’s eyes because she gave a little moan.

“Tell them,” he said coldly. “I’ll do my best for you, Mrs. March, but I will not have the police at my door, pawing through my belongings.”

“No,” she gasped.

“It will be better for everyone if you are open about your dealings with this woman,” William said. “Certainly it will be better for you.” He nodded at Sebastian and turned and left the room, removing himself from any further connection with an unpleasant and possibly scandalous situation.

Left behind, abandoned, Mrs. March had given up. “Stupid old cow,” she whispered, rage and despair making her face ugly. “I knew she’d bring me down, the stupid old cow.”

“Who would bring you down?” Sebastian asked.

Mrs. March glared at him and shook her head.

“Tell me,” he demanded, in a voice every bit as steely as William’s, and far more dangerous.

“Who do you think I mean? Mrs. Slater. My mother.” She laughed aloud at the shock she’d caused. “How’s that for a family, eh, Miss Francesca? Tops yours by a mile, don’t it!”

“Dear God,” Francesca breathed, appalled.

“I’m her daughter all right,” Mrs. March said, and there was a hint of twisted pride in her voice now. “The only child she had from her own body. There were plenty of others, but they weren’t hers. She always promised me a better life than she had. She promised me wealth and a grand house and a man to look after me.”

“And you blame her for not getting any of it?”

“Of course I do! This is her fault, all of it. Why didn’t she smother the three of you when she had the chance?”

Francesca didn’t remember being left in the library, but Sebastian must have taken Mrs. March out, because when he returned he was alone. He took her hands in his, rubbing her gloved fingers, trying to warm them. She let him; she didn’t have the energy to pull away.

There was too much to think about, too much to try and fit together, and hanging over everything like a black shroud was her concern for Aphrodite’s condition.

She might already be dead.