A Scoundrel by Moonlight (Sons of Sin 4)

r ladyship’s companion not long after starting here. She didn’t have time to develop close ties with any member of staff, my lord.”

The coffee made him feel almost human. “And she wasn’t like the other housemaids, was she?”

Astonishingly, Wells’s mouth twitched. “If she hadn’t arrived with such good references and if we hadn’t been short-staffed, I doubt I’d have taken her on. As it was, I assumed that she’d quickly prove unsuitable.”

Well, that answered one question that had always bothered him. Wells was too sharp to miss that Eleanor Trim wasn’t the usual servant. “So she wasn’t liked?”

Wells looked shocked. “My lord, you misunderstand. Of course there was some jealousy at her quick promotion, but Miss Trim never put on airs and anyone with sense could see that she was good for her ladyship. I would say that she was very well liked indeed. We were all sorry to hear that because of family illness, she had to leave.”

“So where should I start looking for her?”

Wells refilled Leath’s cup. “Her last place was in Sussex. The mistress there, a Lady Bascombe, described her in superlatives.”

And that had been a pack of lies from beginning to end, Leath now knew. “I’d appreciate it if you keep an ear open for any mention of Miss Trim’s destination.”

“Have you asked Mr. Crane? He and Miss Trim were friendly.”

Leath’s shoulders tensed the way they did before a boxing bout, even as he knew he couldn’t clout Wells. The man was at least twenty years older than he was and apart from that, he’d faithfully served the Fairbrothers all his life. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said, sir. Miss Trim helped Mr. Crane when he was incapacitated.”

Leath told himself to back down. If anyone knew that Eleanor had been chaste, he did. At this rate, the servants’ hall would buzz with gossip that his lordship had gone completely dotty over a housemaid.

The servants’ hall, unfortunately, would have it right.

“Her dealings with Crane were completely innocent,” Leath snapped.

“Yes, my lord. I implied nothing else.” Wells watched him steadily and Leath cringed at the lack of surprise in his eyes. For all his attempts to conceal his interest in his mother’s companion, apparently everybody at Alloway Chase had noticed it.

“I’m sorry, Wells. I’m worried about her.”

The butler bowed. “I shall make discreet inquiries.”

“Thank you.”

Once Wells left, Leath realized that he hadn’t opened Sedgemoor’s message. Sighing, he broke the seal. Then, picking up his half-empty coffee cup, he read the few scrawled words. And slammed down his cup so hard that coffee splattered across the desk.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Not until afternoon could Nell escape the duchess’s benevolent tyranny and arrange an appointment with the duke. Physically she felt stronger, although the wound in her heart over Leath’s treachery seeped perpetual poison.

A footman escorted her across a gleaming parquet floor to a closed door. Nell squared her shoulders, but she feared that she’d left her courage in the cottage in the Peaks. She smoothed her skirts, unaccustomed to the feel of the rich fabric. Apparently her dress was still drying. This gorgeous dark blue gown belonged to Lady Hillbrook, who was close to her size. The duchess was long and lean like an elegant greyhound. Lady Harmsworth was built like a valkyrie.

Lady Hillbrook, another beautiful brunette although less inclined than the duchess to insist on her own way, had provided a couple of dresses more extravagant than anything Nell had ever owned. Although she reflected sourly that Leath’s mistress would wear clothes like this. She vaguely remembered a dress allowance in that prosaic contract. Probably she should be flattered that he’d had it drawn up. If those pathetic letters were any indication, he hadn’t taken such trouble with the other women he’d duped.

The thought of those letters and what she owed Dorothy steadied wavering courage.

The door opened and she stepped into a spacious library, more leather and mahogany than Leath’s extravaganza in marble and gold, but just as impressive. She gulped back traitorous weakness, as memories of hours working with the marquess overcame her. Hours when she’d deceived herself that she served a man of principle. She’d fallen in love with that man, but he was a chimera. Her love had been fatally misplaced, but the effort to crush it hurt. Dear God, it hurt.

She blinked back tears and realized that this encounter would be even more daunting than expected. The room overflowed with tall, well-dressed men. She blinked again and raised her chin. She’d risked so much for this moment. She couldn’t falter. Even if, despite everything, some shameful element deep in her soul recoiled from Leath’s destruction.

Nell told herself that she felt guilty about the marchioness. But the truth was that her foolish, faithful heart hadn’t relinquished its love. And the futile hope that she was mistaken. That those letters were meant for some other Marquess of Leath. That she’d misunderstood Dorothy’s dying words.

“Miss Trim, how are you feeling?” The duke abandoned his companions and approached with a ground-eating stride that reminded her painfully of Leath’s prowl.

Stop it, Nell. You’re only torturing yourself. Avenge Dorothy, then go away and establish a life.

Except that even now, she couldn’t imagine a life without the vile, duplicitous Lord Leath. She really was a hopeless case.