Chapter 12
Twelve
“At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice he is the worst.”
Aristotle
Gwen paced the length of the library, her steps rhythmic and increasingly forceful, as though she meant to wear a groove into the floorboards.
Once, a fine Aubusson rug had muffled her footfalls, but her father had removed it the previous month, another vanishing luxury in a home slowly being stripped of its former treasures.
Her footfalls echoed, firm against the bare wood.
She was suspended in a peculiar limbo. Married, yet still living beneath her father’s roof.
A new life had begun in name only, delayed by circumstance.
The house, once so familiar, was shedding its character, one possession at a time.
Surely, when she and Aidan moved into their own residence, everything would feel different. Better. More theirs.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
Patter, patter, patter.
Buttercup followed closely, her paws clicking along behind Gwen in a faithful mimicry of the pace, as though imagining it a sort of delightful chase.
But there would be no move for several weeks yet, and Gwen’s mind refused to be stilled. She had made a mistake, spoken too freely, and now she feared their union had begun upon shaky ground. Aidan had been distant that morning, and she was certain he regretted her too-earnest words.
There must be something she could do to restore the easy joy they had shared the night before.
She pivoted toward the towering bookcases, then turned again.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
Patter, patter, patter.
She made for the delicate library table she favored for correspondence, her every step echoing like thunder in her ears. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself not as a young lady but as a herd of elephants crashing through the underbrush, her thoughts too chaotic, her heart too full.
“Lady Moreland is here.”
Gwen stumbled to a halt, one foot slipping slightly on the smooth floor. “What?”
Octavia repeated the announcement, unfazed. “Lady Moreland is here.”
Gwen shot her maid a wide-eyed glare, but Octavia simply raised her hands in surrender, as though to say, “What would you have me do about a viscountess calling unannounced?”
With a heavy exhale, Gwen weighed her choices.
Truly, there was little to do but fret about Aidan’s absence.
Perhaps a visit might prove a welcome distraction.
Perhaps Lady Moreland, with her poise and experience, might offer some wisdom.
Perhaps, indeed, Gwen had no real choice but to receive her new mother-in-law.
Why, then, was she still standing there?
“Where is she?”
Octavia lifted a brow as if she had been asked whether the sun still rose in the east. “In the drawing room, of course.”
“Bring a tea tray?”
The maid nodded and clapped her hands softly. “Come, Buttercup.”
The dog obediently trotted after her, tail swaying, the pair disappearing down the hall in efficient tandem for the hope of nibbles.
Gwen drew a fortifying breath, smoothed her hair, then her gown, and ensured her composure was intact before leaving the library.
Pausing in the hallway before one of the last remaining gilt-framed mirrors, one that had thus far escaped her father’s determined culling, she checked her reflection.
Satisfied she appeared presentable, she made her way to the drawing room.
Lady Moreland stood near the fireplace, her attention elsewhere, seemingly absorbed in her own reflections.
She was, as always, the very model of taste.
Her gown of Carmelite silk paired with a sash of Egyptian brown, the tones perfectly suited her complexion and bearing.
Gwen admired the older woman’s innate elegance.
She wore fashion like second skin, always dignified and never ostentatious.
It was odd to see her woolgathering.
“Lady Moreland?” Gwen ventured gently.
The viscountess startled, then turned, a soft smile blooming on her striking features. “Gwen, please. Call me Mama Abbott. We are family, dear.”
“I have ordered a tea tray, Mama Abbott.”
“Then I suppose we shall sit and talk.”
Gwen returned the smile, albeit with a thread of uncertainty. She crossed to a chair opposite and sat.
“I am not entirely certain why I am here,” her mother-in-law confessed.
Gwen blinked. It was as though her own unspoken thought had been plucked from the air.
“I suppose it is that Lord Moreland and I are preparing to leave for the country, and I have found myself thinking about you and Aidan.”
Gwen nodded, recalling that they were to retire from Town now that the wedding was concluded.
“Perhaps when I return to London, you will have good news for me.” Lady Moreland made a faint, almost unconscious gesture toward her own midsection.
Gwen’s cheeks flushed with sudden heat. She looked down, uncertain how to respond.
“It is just that … since Lily’s attack, I have begun to feel that our family is keeping secrets from me. And I cannot stop wondering what lies ahead.”
Gwen sat straighter. Surely she had misheard.
“Lily’s attack?”
Lady Moreland, who had been absently smoothing her skirts, looked up with a shadowed expression. “Last month. She was set upon by a footman … one who had been involved in the baron’s murder. She uncovered something and … well, he tried to silence her.”
Gwen surreptitiously pinched herself on the leg. Just to be certain that she was awake, and this was not some strange bad dream. The creeping suspicion that she was asleep was a common manifestation since her first meeting with Aidan, it would seem.
“The baron’s murder …” Gwen sifted through her memories. “You mean the late Lord Filminster, who was found dead last month?”
Lady Moreland nodded. “That is correct. One of the footmen was hired by the killer, and Lily figured it out, so he attacked her. If it were not for the butler, she could have been killed.”
Gwen gasped. “I have heard nothing of it.”
Her mother-in-law dabbed at her eyes with her forefinger. “It was all rather shocking, but only the family knows of it. It is only right you be aware because you are family now, dear.”
Gwen nodded in awe. “Thank you.”
“It is a frightening prospect, to think of losing a child. I find myself thinking of you this morning. I wanted to assure myself … that you would take care of my boy. He has carried such a burden of guilt since Lily was ruined. He feels he should have been with her that night, you see.”
Gwen did not see. She had no clue what her mother-in-law was speaking of. Aidan was burdened with guilt over Lily’s ruin? Was that why he had offered to marry Gwen when they had been discovered together on the terrace?
“Which night?”
“The night of the coronation, when Lord Filminster was murdered. Lily stepped forward as an alibi to Brendan Ridley, stating she had spent the night with him. She did not, of course. Lily is a young lady and would never do such a thing, but she said it because Ridley’s paramour would not come forward.
Lily ruined herself to prevent his arrest.”
Gwen’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. What bizarre intrigue was this?
She had been vaguely aware of the murder, and the ensuing scandal with Lily and her husband when Lily had informed the coroner that she and the new Lord Filminster had spent the night together. Apparently, that had been a lie.
Did that mean that Lily’s husband, Gwen’s new brother-in-law, could have murdered his father?
But no, Lady Moreland had implied that there had been a legitimate alibi who would not risk her reputation, so Lily had taken it upon herself to step forward. Gwen took a moment to marvel at the young woman’s courage.
What, if anything, did that have to do with her and Aidan?
“It is very odd that Aidan managed to ruin a woman so soon after Lily’s scandal. I am still at a loss why this happened to both my children. Do you think I raised them correctly?”
Lady Moreland was staring at her with brimming eyes.
Eyes that reminded her of Aidan. Gwen’s heart twinged in sympathy to see her mother-in-law so troubled.
“Of course! Aidan is a perfect gentleman. What happened between us was an aberration. We were overcome by the majesty of the moon, and such exquisite poetry … so now we are married. He did right by me.”
“I am glad it is you, my dear. You seem resilient. Intelligent. You are a good match for my boy. When I first learned of this, I did not know what to think, but after meeting you, my mind has been at ease. At least … regarding your suitability for my scholarly son.”
Musing over the revelations, Gwen stood to move around the table and place herself on the settee next to Lady Moreland.
“Lily and Aidan are honorable people. Lily stepped forward to help Lord Filminster, and Aidan did not hesitate in offering for me. Your children are a credit to you, La—Mama Abbott. You raised them to stand by what they know in their hearts to be right, and they did so. The fact that their scandals were so close in time is … a coincidence.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
It was not altogether true. Gwen wondered if Aidan’s proposal was because he did not want to see a young woman ruined as Lily had been.
Perhaps his resolve to marry her had not been so much about their mutual attraction, but merely his conscience driving his actions.
He certainly was in a strange and distant mood now that their wedding night was over.
Yet … their wedding night had been sublime.
Something from a gothic novel or a poem by Lord Byron.
Surely he must entertain feelings for her if he could spend so many hours in her company?
It had been like they were marooned on a remote island, the only people left in the world.
The way he had spoken to her had implied a deep regard.