A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

“The Bromfields.” Mrs Barbary almost spat the bitter words from her mouth. “You’re all the same. Evil is in your blood.”

“And I do not disagree with your assessment.” How could she after all she had learnt about her father, about her grandparents? “But I am not a Bromfield. I am a Duval, now a Drake. If you open the door, we can discuss this problem in a rational manner.”

The tip of Juliet’s nose was numb, her fingers, too, despite the fact she wore gloves. The thought of spending any more time in the icehouse chilled her to her bones.

“It’s too late for that.”

“It is never too late.”

Mrs Barbary shuffled on the spot. The longer she stood there, the more agitated she became. “Just tell me where I might find the letters. I know you have them. Three years, three long years I’ve searched the house.”

Three years?

Had Charlotte Drake confessed hours before her death? Had she asked Mrs Barbary to destroy the letters but died before she told her where to find them?

But there was more to the story than that. There had to be.

Mrs Barbary’s actions would see her swing from the gallows. Did Charlotte Drake’s reputation mean so much that the woman would risk her life?

“You were Charlotte’s maid once,” Juliet said. “Did she teach you to read and write? Was she kind and loving? I’m told she cared for her staff.” No doubt that was her penance after the abominable way she had treated her maid Susan. “I need to know that Charlotte trusted you before I can tell you anything.”

Mrs Barbary took another step forward. The woman seemed changed. The solid shell had cracked to reveal a trembling wreck hidden beneath. But fear and frenzy went hand in hand just like night and day. And it was plain to see that a catalogue of emotions battled beneath the surface.

“Charlotte loved you like a daughter,” Juliet said, hoping to prompt the woman to speak, to confirm or deny the statement. “You must have been close, considering the time you’ve spent at Blackwater.”

A sob caught in the back of the woman’s throat, but she fought to keep it at bay. “It was all a lie. An ugly lie that tainted every happy memory.”

“Did Charlotte tell you something before she died? Did she make her last confession, to you her trusted confidante?”

Had Charlotte shattered the illusion?

“Trusted confidante?” Mrs Barbary blurted. “The woman lied to me for fifty years.”

Lord, they were going around in circles. Frustration wrung tight in her chest. Juliet could not reveal a family secret to a servant. The only way to gain any ground was to incite the woman to speak.

Juliet gripped the iron bars and squeezed in the hope of getting the blood flowing to her fingers. “Charlotte was everything a mistress should aspire to be,” she said in a tone the housekeeper often used to show her disdain. “I cannot believe a lady of her standing would lie to anyone. I can only assume that you have committed a great sin and that the evidence of it is written somewhere amongst the missives.”

Juliet stamped her foot—not for effect but because her feet were as frozen as the blocks of ice stored in the underground room.

“Oh, you would not say that if you knew how she spoke about your family.” Her thin mouth twisted in contempt. “She would never have permitted her grandson to marry Bromfield’s bastard.”

The words hit like a stone to the throat—hard, stealing her breath, leaving an uncomfortable pain that made it hard to swallow. The urge to shrink within herself, to hide, to know her place, left her shoulders slumped, her head bowed.

The wheel churned in the water, creaking, groaning, taunting, the sound growing as loud as Hannah’s mocking jeers.

You’re no good. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere.

“You would never have been mistress of this house if Charlotte Drake were alive.” Mrs Barbary’s blunt tone sliced through the air, intending to maim.

“Then clearly you do not know your new master very well,” Juliet heard herself say. “No one tells Devlin Drake what to do.” Devlin was a man who cared nothing for propriety, for other people’s opinions.

You’re the love I never thought to find. You’re the love I thought denied me.

Devlin’s words bulled into her mind, knocking a

way all doubts.

Then a thought struck her. The baron’s illegitimacy affected Hannah, too.