of the emotion threatening to swap them all. ‘All she knew about the scandal was that her mother hated the name Carlow.’
‘Nell?’ Hal asked.
‘Mama never spoke of what had happened to Papa. I knew virtually nothing until I read her letters and diaries over the past two weeks. And I could not bring myself to do that until I came here and realized that I had to find out.’
Watson came in with the tea tray and placed it before Diana, but she got to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, I must help Lady Narborough. I will not say anything of this, of course.’ The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the four of them in silence.
Without a word, Nell shifted in her seat so she could reach the tray. She passed the drops and a glass of water to Marcus’s father, then began to pour tea with a steady hand as though this were a normal social tea party. Marcus watched, unable to believe she could appear so unaffected. Then, as she turned to hand him his cup, he saw her eyes, filled with a miserable anger and realized that she was holding on to her control with fierce determination.
‘I give you my word I did not know who you were,’ she said to Lord Narborough, the quiver of passion under the calm words more convincing than any display of extravagant emotion would have been. ‘Once I knew, then I was afraid, both for you and for myself. I do not understand who is doing this, or why. But I knew that Marcus would not believe me if I told him that.’
That hurt, an unexpected thrust of pain in his chest, made worse because it was true—he had not let himself trust her.
‘Perhaps his loyalties were divided,’ his father said, surprising him. He looked sharply at the older man. There was a faint smile on his lips. He knows. He knows I love her.
‘No,’ Nell said. She stared into her cooling tea. ‘Marcus knows where his loyalties lie. And that is right, after all. It would be wrong to place…desires before the safety of one’s family, one’s sense of honour.’ She lifted her head and looked directly at Marcus, the tear tracks plain on her cheeks. He wanted to hold her, wipe them away, kiss away the memory of them. ‘It is how I feel, after all.’
‘Nell,’ the earl said gently, ‘it is possible, you know, that the people one loves may yet do things that are very wrong. Your father was involved with someone.’
‘Amanda Hebden, Lady Framlingham, I know.’ She nodded. ‘It is in the letters. And Lord Framlingham was not treating her well. But why would they not duel? Why murder?’
‘Because Kit Hebden was about to unmask your father as the spy—that is the only reason, the only possible way to explain it. Believe me, Nell, I tried to find another explanation, and in all these years I have failed.’
‘I believe you tried,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘And I am sorry I did not tell you before who I was. That man, whoever he is, might have shot someone this morning.’
‘But knowing who you are takes us no further forward,’ Hal interjected.
‘It does,’ Marcus said, thinking aloud. ‘It tells us that this is not some campaign against the Carlows alone. This is someone with a connection to that affair who, for some reason, is attacking both the child of the man who was executed and the family of the only survivor of the three friends.’
‘You are right.’ The earl sat up, alert. ‘Hebden’s family has all gone except his daughter—she lives with her mother’s family. So, who does that leave?’
‘The real traitor? The man who murdered Lord Framlingham?’ Nell asked, defiance in her voice.
‘Oh, my dear.’ The earl shook his head. ‘For your sake, I wish that were true.’
‘I want to go home,’ Nell said flatly. ‘I should not be here.’
‘But the danger,’ the earl protested.
‘You mean the man who shot Marcus who might know where I live? That man never existed. I shot him.’
‘I know,’ the earl confessed, and Marcus almost smiled at the gasp of surprise from Nell.
‘It was an accident,’ Marcus said, clarifying it for Hal. ‘I was following her, frightened her. And then I used that as a weapon to make her come here.’
‘So—’ the earl frowned ‘—Nell is stalked by our mysterious enemy, who must have exerted some time and trouble to trace her. She is sent with the silken rope, thus making her appear to be part of the conspiracy, then hounded by you and blackmailed into coming here. Do I have that correctly?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Marcus held the grey eyes. ‘I thought her in danger—and a danger to us. And you will both have to forgive me, but I put our family’s safety first.’
‘I forgive you,’ his father said dryly. ‘You will have to discuss absolution with Nell.’
‘We have nothing to discuss.’ She looked at him. ‘Nothing at all. I quite understand Marcus’s feelings.’ The look she directed at him said quite plainly that she placed no value on his declaration of love. He could hardly blame her. ‘Please, let me go home now.’
What would she do now, if he went down on one knee and proposed in front of his father and Hal? Would she believe him then? For a crazy moment Marcus considered it. But she was distressed and angry, and if she said ‘no’ now, he sensed it would be irrevocable.
‘I offered to buy a business in a good area, something Nell could run. It would be a partnership,’ he said instead, and felt her relax a trifle. Yes, she had been afraid he would make some kind of declaration.
‘Would you like that?’ his father asked her. ‘I wanted to help your mother, but she vanished before I could try. It has always been a grief to me.’
‘Thank you.’ From somewhere, Nell found enough polite enthusiasm to reply. ‘That would be wonderful.’ And it would be. Comfort, respectability, control of her own destiny. A few weeks ago, she could have hoped for nothing better. It was the answer to her prayers.
And beside her sat the answer to her dreams, and he had said he loved her. He had said it still half-suspecting her. He had said it as though it had been dragged out of him, as though he was ashamed of himself for loving the child of a traitor and a murderer, a woman fallen so far below her true station in life. Do you think I want to fall in love with a milliner? he had demanded. Which meant both that it could well be true and that it was an impossible basis for a relationship.
Marcus could not marry her, even if he really did love her. The scandal would be terrible. She had no understanding of polite Society, of how the mills of gossip worked, but she could imagine the impact such a match would make.
She could never ask it of him, even if this fog of mystery and danger was no longer hanging over them. And she would not be his mistress, even though she ached for him, because to live every moment waiting for him to marry another, as he must, would be hell, pure and simple.
The men were talking, their voices a distant hum in her head. There was so much to come to terms with, so much to try to understand since that shot had rung out and shattered the fragile peace.
‘Nell?’
She looked up and saw them all watching her. ‘I am sorry. I was not attending.’
