And The Widow Wore Scarlet (Scandalous Sons 1)

Jemima’s head shot around upon hearing the patter of footsteps on the stairs. A scowl formed. The girl’s top lip curled into something of a snarl.

“You!” Jemima snapped. “I should have known you were behind this debacle. One word to your lapdog and he scampers to do your bidding.”

“Lapdog?” Mr Wycliff put his hand to his heart as if mortally wounded. “I take great umbrage. No one tells me who to lick or bite.”

“Mr Wycliff is not the sort of gentleman one offends,” Scarlett said. “One wicked word from him and you will find yourself barred from every ballroom in London. Now, if you are behind these ludicrous attempts to cause me harm, I suggest you stop.”

There was nothing ludicrous about murder. But Scarlett would be damned before letting Jemima know she was terrified out of her wits. And while Jemima’s bitterness was carved into every frown lining her brow, Scarlett doubted the girl had the courage to hire an assassin.

The door to the library flew open, and the marquis sauntered into the room, his stoic gaze fixed upon his son. Lady Rathbone and Joshua Steele traipsed behind.

“Admiring my books?” The marquis moved to the drinks tray and poured himself a glass of port. The large diamond and onyx ring on his finger clinked against the crystal. “Perhaps you’re interested in the first edition of Gilles Ménage’s Poemata. Or I have a rare copy of Plautus’ Comoediae Viginti that is two hundred years old.”

“Latin is not my forte,” Mr Wycliff replied in a less arrogant tone now they were in company. “Your brandy and cheroots are more to my taste.”

The marquis’ languid gaze slid to the open mahogany box on the desk, to the ash and discarded remains of Mr Wycliff’s smoke. With his usual impassive expression, he turned to Jemima. “And what brought you here, Miss Steele?”

“Erm … I …” The girl’s cheeks coloured beneath his stare. “I—”

“Miss Steele came to speak to me regarding a personal matter,” Scarlett interjected.

The marquis raised a dubious brow. “No doubt she is tired of hiding in your shadow and begs you grant her a spot in the sunlight.”

“It would not be a personal matter if I divulged our secrets.”

The marquis turned his attention to Lady Rathbone. “And might I inquire as to your reason for concerning yourself with what my son does behind closed doors?”

“Me?” Lady Rathbone’s droopy eyes bulged. She looked more shocked than offended. “I happened to be passing and noticed Lord Steele loitering in the corridor.”

“She asked if I had seen Lady Steele,” Joshua said, though he failed to make eye contact with anyone other than his sister.

“Well, yes,” Lady Rathbone mumbled. Like his son, the marquis possessed the ability to unnerve those in the room without uttering a cross word. “My grandson mentioned she was here, and I thought she might like to accompany me at the card table.”

Lady Rathbone’s kindness touched Scarlett’s heart, even if at times it proved a tad excessive. “And I would have graciously accepted.”

The matron managed a smile while struggling beneath the weight of the marquis’ scrutiny. “I am sure we’re not too late.”

Mr Wycliff stepped forward. During his brief silence, Scarlett had been aware of the power radiating from his arresting countenance. The air sparked with a vibrant and equally volatile electricity. From the moment his father entered the room, Mr Wycliff’s striking dark eyes had watched her intently.

“Perhaps Lady Steele has forgotten we have another engagement this evening.” Damian Wycliff’s commanding voice sliced through the air, ready to slap anyone who offered the smallest protest.

He had made no mention of attending another soiree. And they had learnt nothing new this evening. Jemima made no secret of her hatred. She blamed Scarlett for every scar, every hideous mark inflicted by the cruel lord. Her wicked stepmother roused the devil in all men. Why else would a loving father behave like such a beast?

“Forgive me,” Scarlett said, for she had a sudden urge to support Mr Wycliff in a room full of those who looked upon him with fear. Fear tinged with disdain. “It slipped my mind.”

He had been so confident of gaining

Jemima’s confession. So quick to discharge his vow. But it would take more than a feigned seduction to absolve him of his debt. There would be another attempt on her life. Soon.

The thought roused a deep foreboding in her chest. Jemima would not rest until the Scarlet Widow was no more. Joshua had his own secrets. She had spurned numerous advances from powerful men. Forceful men. Men with a right of entitlement.

Lord Steele had once frightened her into marriage.

Did another man hope to do the same?

Everyone was a threat.

Panic surfaced as she scanned the faces in the room. Dishonest faces. Untrustworthy faces. Faces that roused doubt and suspicion.