Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

Surely her fears had not come to pass?

What if Sebastian abandoned her? She would be left alone, wandering the moors like a wraith. She pictured herself wearing one of Mrs. Hall’s dreadful dresses, wet and bedraggled, Wolf limping at her side. It really was a depressing image.

She was so deep in her own concerns that she did not hear it at first. The stirring among the guests, the shifting and murmuring of the crowd. And when at last she looked up, just as a hush fell, her eyes widened in amazement.

Aphrodite stood in the entrance to the supper room. As usual she was wearing black, and those closest to her had moved away, so that there was a large circle of open floor between her and them. She did not seem to notice. Diamonds flashed at her throat and on her fingers, and she lifted her chin proudly, and turned her head from side to side, searching for someone among those watching her.

Francesca was about to step forward when someone grabbed her arm to stop her. “How dare you come here without an invitation!” Uncle William said loudly by her side.

Aphrodite turned to the sound of his voice, and it was as if she’d found who she was looking for. “William,” she said in ringing tones. “So we meet again.”

Francesca could see such fury in his eyes that she was stunned. He had shown this hatred of her mother before, and she had never really understood it. Was it really explained by her profession and the scandal he felt she brought to his family?

“You are not wanted here,” he said. “You are not invited.”

But Aphrodite was unfazed. She began to walk toward him, her black silk skirts rustling, and people moved aside to allow her to pass. “I apologize to my daughter for interrupting her evening,” she said. “But it cannot be helped. I must put an end to this now, for all our sakes. Before someone else is hurt. Or murdered.”

The word riveted everyone. Not even a murmur passed the hundreds of lips.

“You stupid woman—”

“I have something to show you, William.”

Francesca had never seen him so angry. His lean cheeks were flushed, his hands were shaking, and his words tumbled over themselves in his fury. “Get out! Get out now!”

Aphrodite was holding up a piece of paper. She stretched her hand high above her, so that everyone could see it. William began to push his way toward her through the guests, knocking them aside, not caring who he offended. He was like a different man.

“It is a letter,” she announced, anxiously watching his struggle. “It was written to me by Francesca’s father. He talks about his love for his daughter and his plans for her future. He talks about—”

“Play!” William roared, gesturing at the orchestra. “Play, will you! What do you think you’re being paid for?”

“He talks about leaving her all his money and his property, of making her his true and legal heir. He says that he wants Francesca to have it all.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” William shouted angrily. “Get out of my way!”

Someone fell. There was a scream.

“Mrs. Slater had this letter. Maeve stole it for her. This morning she recovered enough to give it to Mr. Thorne. You were meant to marry her daughter, William. She isn’t very happy with you.” She turned wildly, catching sight of Amy. “Amy, look, look! You must recognize the handwriting. It was penned by your brother Thomas. Thomas Tremaine was Francesca’s father.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open. Helen gave a squeal and fell back into Toby’s arms. But William was staring in blind hatred at the woman who had just destroyed him. “You bitch,” he howled. “I always loathed you.”

Aphrodite, pale and shaken, was unimpressed by his venom. “And I thought that you had loved me, once. You told me so often enough. Or was that just because you knew I had belonged to your brother, and it gave you some sort of twisted pleasure to have me, too?”

“William,” Amy gasped, turning on him, “how could you? Francesca is your niece!”

“But she wouldn’t have known it,” he said, with careless bitterness. “And I couldn’t let her take everything that belonged to me. Thomas told me, you know. He wrote to me at the same time and told me what he planned to do. I have been trying to find and destroy that letter for twenty-five years. And now it has destroyed me.”

“You took my children!” Aphrodite cried. “You stole them from me so that you could keep what was not yours.”

“If Mrs. Slater had her way they would have been smothered,” he said. “I let them live. I let my sister take them in. And now look to what straits my generosity has brought me. I should have given her her way. I was squeamish, and it’s been my downfall.”

Francesca felt herself swaying. It was all too much. She couldn’t listen to any more…

“Darling girl,” a voice murmured, and Sebastian wrapped his arm about her, pressing her tightly to his side. “I am so sorry. Madame insisted on a dramatic scene. It appears such things run in your family.”

“Sebastian…” Relief. She clung to him, not caring who saw her. What did anything matter, after the scene they had just witnessed?

William, ranting and raving, was taken in charge by several police. Then Sebastian was leading her through the crush, and it wasn’t until the door closed behind them that she realized he had brought her to the library. The smell of leather and cigar smoke made her feel nauseated, reminding her of Uncle William shouting, and her mention of the letter—the letter!—and the way he had seemed to change. It all made dreadful sense now.