Secrets of Seduction (Legendary Lovers 3)

“Where are my manners?” Lady Farnwell murmured weakly. She introduced her distant cousin, who was a Donnelly before marrying Shamus O’Brien, then added, “You must be chilled. May we make you some hot tea?”

“That would be very welcome,” Skye replied, not so much needing the warmth as wanting to allow the baroness time to compose herself.

While Mrs. O’Brien went to the kitchen to fetch tea, they were shown into a small parlor where a cheery fire burned, and took the seats offered. The baroness sank down upon a sofa beside Skye, looking slightly dazed. “What did Peggy Nibbs tell you?”

“That you were forced by circumstances to stage your own death and sought protection with relatives here in Ireland. It was because your husband was unimaginably cruel, was it not?”

“Yes,” Rachel whispered. For the next few minutes, she haltingly confirmed her dire story … that she’d had a secret love affair before her engagement and that her husband, William, had become so abusive, she feared for her life.

“I promise you, I was never unfaithful to my marriage vows,” she said earnestly. “But William did not believe me, and for that I am to blame. Even though I ended my … romance … with Cornelius when I married, I foolishly continued to write him letters that I never sent, and William found them shortly after I gave birth to my daughter. He never learned the identity of the man I loved because I never addressed Cornelius by name. But William couldn’t bear the thought that he had been cuckolded. He was much too prideful.”

Skye hesitated, wondering how to tactfully ask the most important question. “There is one thing I would dearly like to know,” she said gently. “Is your daughter my uncle’s child?”

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sp; Rachel swallowed. “Yes … but I never told Cornelius. He could never claim Daphne as his own, and I couldn’t bear to cause him the pain of knowing another man was raising his daughter.”

“Did your husband realize her lineage?”

“I don’t believe so. Or perhaps he didn’t wish to contemplate the possibility. You see …” An embarrassed flush rose to her face. “Peg helped me to hide the evidence that I was not … chaste when I came to the marriage bed.”

Skye supposed that the midwife would have known how to smear bloodstains on the nuptial sheets to fool a bridegroom. “I don’t believe my uncle ever suspected that Lady Daphne was his daughter.”

Looking remorseful and sad, Rachel glanced down at her clasped fingers. “My silence was for his own protection. Farnwell would have killed him had the truth become known. As it was … he nearly killed me.”

Rachel’s gaze grew distant in remembrance, and tears filled her eyes again. “Farnwell became so cruel.… He enjoyed seeing me suffer. I couldn’t bear it any longer. But leaving my baby daughter was the hardest thing I have ever d-done—”

Her voice broke, and Skye felt her heart go out to the woman who’d been forced to abandon her child in order to save her own life.

When she began weeping in earnest, Skye moved nearer in sympathy and slipped an arm around Rachel’s slender shoulders. “I am certain you did what you knew to be right. You had no other choice.”

She drew a gulp of air as she labored for control. “You are r-right.… I had no choice. While I still remained alive, I f-feared he would punish Daphne for my s-sins.”

After a time her sobs quieted, and she took Hawk’s proffered handkerchief to dry her eyes. “Please forgive my hysterics,” she begged in a rasping voice.

Skye felt a spurt of anger on her behalf. “It is not hysterical in the least to mourn the loss of your only child.”

Rachel nodded silently. Eventually she sniffed once or twice, then took a deep breath. “Daphne … tell me, how … how is she? I only remember her as a tiny babe.”

From her expression, she seemed pitifully eager to learn about her daughter, and Skye was happy to oblige. “Lady Daphne is a lovely, intelligent young woman now. She is something of a scholar—a talented artist and an expert on roses. Quite an achievement for one so young. She is barely my age.”

Rachel’s response was a watery smile. “I always loved roses … my garden was my one solace during those terrible times. But tell me … she never married? She is a spinster?”

Skye hesitated to brand Lady Daphne with the spinster label. “She is still unattached, I believe, but I don’t know her reasons.”

“I imagine she would not wish to follow my example and marry without love,” Rachel muttered in a stronger tone.

Then she abruptly changed the subject, seeming eager to learn about her former lover also. “Tell me … How fares Lord Cornelius?”

“He is well enough, I suppose,” Skye answered. “Or to be more specific, his health is good. But his spirits … not so much. After your tragic death, he turned to his books for comfort and became quite the literary scholar. He never married, but it was only when I found your letters hidden away in his library that I understood why.”

“I never thought he wouldn’t marry and have a family.”

“You were the love of his life,” Skye said simply. “When you harbor a love that deep, it is difficult to move on. Uncle Cornelius kept all your letters. He even kept a dead rose pressed among them, in remembrance of you, I imagine.” From her reticule, Skye pulled out the box of letters.

Rachel’s mouth trembled as she opened it and unwrapped the scrap of muslin on top. The red rose, now brittle and faded with age, had a delicate blue ribbon tied around the stem.

“This was from the last time we met … a pledge of my love.”