Phoebe bridled. Was this the way he spoke about her? She was about to speak when Miss Wentworth said, studying her fingernails, “I thought he was talking about Lady Cavanaugh but…” she hiccupped “…I later learned it was much worse than that, and that’s why there’s no point in my brother thinking he can force Wentworth to do the honorable thing.”
At Phoebe’s puzzled look, Miss Redding replied, “Wentworth is married already.”
A sudden rushing in Phoebe’s ears made her grip an overhanging tree branch to steady herself. “Married?” She shook her head. “You can’t be right. I knew nothing… ” She corrected herself, quickly. “I’m sure my mistress knew nothing. Why, she hoped to marry him, you know, because it was her dying husband’s wish that she keep the estate in safe hands. You know Lord Cavanaugh’s heir was an imbecile. Yes, I speak frankly to you for you have spoken so frankly to me. My mistress was at the mercy of her husband’s desire for her to…” She floundered. She couldn’t say marry when that made no sense, and she could hardly admit the truth of Ulrick’s sordid little plan—which Phoebe went along with so willingly she was now ashamed to admit—to this chit of a girl.
Ada took this in with a small frown, but without puzzling it out too much she shook her head. “Mr Wentworth married a woman some years ago, only he’s kept it a secret, and he’s been paying her to keep silent. I wonder if she’ll keep silent now he’s inheriting Lord Cavanaugh’s estate and title. What woman wouldn’t want to be a duchess and live on an estate attended by hundreds of servants?”
Phoebe could think of one, but instead she asked, “Are you sure Mr Wentworth is married?” She simply couldn’t reconcile this piece of news. “With all due respect, my mistress would have known this. You surely can’t know for certain. He’d never have told you such a thing, especially if he’s paying his true wife to keep silent, as you said.”
“His manservant took a liking to me. He told me Mr Wentworth was already married, and made me promise I must not ever reveal that he’d told me, or else he’d lose his job and a lot more besides. He was frightened, I see now, but he was a decent man and no doubt he could see that Mr Wentworth had designs on me that could not be honorably followed through.” Miss Redding managed a wan smile.
“You knew Collins? Goodness, you must have…”
“Gone often to Mr Wentworth’s lodgings? Yes.” Miss Redding sighed. “I was still at Miss Wilkins Seminary in Kensington when I met him after I dropped my handkerchief on the pavement, and he seized it up and returned it to me. I remember the look we shared and the admiration on his face before I received a note a few minutes later asking me to meet him.”
Phoebe stared. “Why, that must have been years ago.”
“Three years ago. He was mad for me, and I was mad for him. He attended an Assembly near where I lived so he could meet my brother but the meeting didn’t go well, he said. He told me he’d need more time to win Hugh over before we could be wed. Yes, I was flattered by his attentions—”
“But you were a schoolgirl!”
“But soon I’d be out and looking for a husband. I was a foolish child who thought I’d beat all my schoolmates to the altar. But look what happened to me? I was led like a lamb to my fate. And now I wish I were dead.”
“Wouldn’t you rather you had your revenge on Mr Wentworth?”
She’d thought that Miss Redding, a girl of such fire and vulnerability, would either return a vigorous yes or burst into tears once more. Instead, Ada said, rather listlessly, “If it could be done, I would like to see Mr Wentworth brought down, though once I’d have given my life for him.”
“Just as you would happily sacrifice it now for the unhappiness he’s caused you.”
Miss Redding shrugged again. “It can’t be done. Mr Wentworth is too cunning. My brother can’t touch him. No one can. He’s now Lord Cavanaugh, and he’s bent on apprehending Lady Cavanaugh, or should I say, the widowed Lady Cavanaugh who killed her husband, though no doubt he’s secretly pleased to have his cousin dead else he’d not be enjoying his title and estate.”
It was hard for Phoebe to listen to this. “Lady Cavanaugh was my mistress, and she did not murder her husband,” she said hotly. “He forced her hand around the paper knife he then drove into his heart.”
Miss Redding sent her a level look. “How do you know this?”
“I saw it.”
“And Mr Wentworth observed that you’d seen it?”
“Yes, and that’s why he’ll kill me if he finds me.
“So you escaped, fearing your life was in danger, and my brother picked you up on the road?”
Phoebe nodded. “That’s right. Just as I told you earlier. Now my greatest wish is to see my mistress exonerated, which in turn will mean I am safe in my own right.” She looked meaningfully at Miss Redding. “And you wish to see Mr Wentworth exposed. Not for what he did to you as that would be ruinous to you, but to ensure the world knows he’s a married man with a wife he chooses not to acknowledge.” She shook her head, her mind whirling. All these years Phoebe had been consorting with this man she’d thought loved her, when, in fact, he was married.
“We must find his wife,” she said, with rising conviction. “That is the only way. We must find out who she is and where she lives.”
All Phoebe’s earlier anger, uncertainty, and despair were swept away by this newfound information. At last, she had the means to expose Wentworth for the scoundrel he really was.
For if Wentworth were keeping a wife secret, who knew what other secrets he was guarding at the cost of his newfound position?
12
Hugh was feeling decidedly guilty when he stopped to greet Phoebe under a pear tree, having seen her alone as he’d brought his horse up the road by the bend near the river on his return from the village. She was wearing the new dress she’d just bought. It was simple and becoming, but when he drew closer and could see
the signs of wear proclaiming it was so obviously secondhand, he felt a pang of remorse for the cavalier way he’d dismissed her when his sister had arrived earlier than expected.
He glanced about him and was glad to see no sign of Ada. No doubt she was devouring her romance novel by that Jane Austen woman she seemed so infatuated with. If Hugh took Phoebe into the woods, Ada would not miss him if he were gone another twenty minutes.