Chapter Forty-six
Hurrying from the Sheers’s cottage with renewed vigour, Sylvie found Angus pacing in the lane. At the sound of her approach, he swung around, fury burning in his eyes.
“I told you,” he hissed. “I told you Louis was playing his filthy games, and I was fucking stupid enough to come trotting along on this wild goose chase.”
Alarmed at the anger radiating from him, she stopped short and pressed her lips together. She knew his outburst was not truly directed at her but at something raw and festering beneath the surface.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said at last, the words harsh and clipped. He turned his head away, his jaw clenching. “Such language… unforgivable.”
“I understand,” she answered softly as she took a step towards him. “But Angus, your Aunt Augusta…”
His head shot back around, the look in his eyes stilled her mid-step.
“Enough,” he said ominously. “She may not be the kindest of women, but she is the only family I have left. No more, Sylvie. No more. I came because I felt I owed you that much. But it is done now. As are we.”
“But, Angus,” she reached for him, the sapphire heavy in her palm.
“No.” He stepped back sharply, as though repelled by the mere thought of her touch.
“I told you we would find nothing here but more lies or hearsay. I have nothing more to give… nothing more to say. I’m sorry, but you knew my terms when we married.
You travel directly to Wales, as I can endure no more. Not another day.
“Eddie,” he barked, turning from her. “See that the marchioness goes directly to Westland Manor.”
Before she could form a word, Angus vaulted onto his mount and kicked the horse into a gallop, hooves drumming like thunder down the lane. Unable to move, Sylvie stared after him, willing him to turn, but he did not look back. Not once.
* * *
Bewildered, Sylvie turned towards the carriage. Her steps faltered, and Eddie was beside her in an instant, gently taking her by the elbow to steady her.
“Come, milady,” he murmured gently, “let’s get you safe in the carriage.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Betsy, fetch the brandy from the hamper… There should be a bottle in there somewhere.”
“I’m fine, I’m…” whispered Sylvie in shock. “I’m to go to Wales as my husband cannot endure my company.”
“There now,” soothed Eddie as he helped her up the step.
Falling listlessly onto the seat, Sylvie slumped into the corner as the world around her blurred. Eddie, dragging Betsy to one side, dropped his voice low.
“I think we should make haste,” he said, “and make sure your lady takes a tot or two of liquor… you might need one yourself. Calm everyone’s nerves.”
Betsy’s eyes flashed. “How could he? How could he speak to her like that?”
“Aye, well,” said Eddie, rubbing the back of his neck, “he were mighty riled at himself, not her. I don’t know, Bet, I’ve seen him angered before, but that, that was something very different. Anyway, come on, lass, we got a long way to go, and the sooner we are there, the better.”
“Do, do you think he’ll come round?” she asked quietly. “Do you think he’ll…?”
Eddie shook his head. “Nay, lass, from his reaction just now, I’d be guessing he didn’t like what he heard, and I think we both know what that means.”
“Oh, poor Sylvie,” sighed Betsy.
“Aye, and poor Angus.”
“Poor Angus?” scoffed Betsy.
He gave a sad smile. “Imagine what he must be going through, Bet. Knowing such a sickness is creeping upon him… and all he knows will one day be confused and senseless. Nay, lass, for a man of his intelligence, it’s a worse fate than death.”
Betsy’s shoulders sagged. “I suppose when you put it like that. But what will you do?”
“Do?”
“You know… when he goes mad.”
Eddie smiled at her sadly, “If, Betsy, if … and if such a thing should happen, then I’ll do what I always do. I’ll look after him.”
“But what if he becomes deranged and dangerous?”
“Dangerous!” He gave a quiet laugh. “No, whatever becomes of him, I’ll never see him as dangerous.
I’ve known him since I was seven. He nabbed me picking his pocket, and if he hadn’t taken pity on me, I doubt I’d have lived to see another year out.
I owe him my life. He may seem cold, but he’s the finest man I’ve ever known…
and the kindest. He put his trust in me, and whatever becomes of him, I will never abandon him. ”
“I see,” said Betsy sadly, “I understand your loyalty, as I feel the same for Sylvie.”
“Then,” Eddie said, reaching for her hand, “it seems our futures are destined to be apart, as are those of our employers.”
“Oh, Eddie,” sighed Betsy, leaning into him. “Why does life have to be so unfair?”
“I don’t know, my love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “But we have each other for a while yet. Let’s think of that… not the parting.”
“Yes, let’s,” she breathed, “let’s think of only the now,” and melted into his kiss.
* * *
In the dim upper room of the cottage beyond, Mary Sheers stood in shadow, watching the commotion unfold in the lane below. A faint crease appeared between her brows, then faded as another presence stirred behind her.
“I rather liked the poor girl,” she murmured.
“As do I, my dear. Surprisingly.”
She sighed softly. “Yet, I fear we may have made things worse for her.”
“Tsk, on the contrary,” came the low, silken reply. “I expected nothing less from her husband. Now, we wait… to see if I have underestimated our delightful new Marchioness’s tenacity.”
“And if she starts digging into Peter Sheers’ background?”
“Then she will find he was a perfectly ordinary, likeable man. A palatable character to base her hopes upon. A little manipulation of the truth, nothing more. And, should she come looking for Mary again, she will discover that the good widow has gone to live with her sister… which, incidentally, is quite true.”
“And the sapphire?”
“Oh, quite authentic, I assure you. No manipulation as to its history needed there.”
“Then why the elaborate theatrics? Why did you not simply give it to the poor girl earlier?”
He smiled — that lazy, dangerous smile that never quite reached his violet eyes.
“Because, ma chère, its significance in the game may have been overlooked, or even discarded had I just handed it over. A discovery, placed too easily in the hand, loses its lustre. This way, it gleams with the irresistible power of a mystery… which needs to be unravelled, slowly, one layer at a time for its true value to be appreciated, and its truth revealed.”
She let out a long sigh. “Oh, Louis, how you adore your games.”
“Indeed,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a velvet drawl. “They make life infinitely more diverting. Now, shall I help you shed this grieving widow’s disguise? Help unravel your mysteries?”
His hands ran teasingly around her waist. She brushed them away with playful flick, tugging the grey wig from her head, allowing her long raven locks to cascade freely down her back.
“Really, Louis? Don’t you think there have been enough games for one day?
You had me dragged here in the small hours of the morning to play this part, and now you want to delay my return?
I need to wash these age lines from my face and get back to London.
Or have you forgotten I am performing at Lady Wisley’s soirée tonight? At your bequest?”
“Oh, Evie, my little songbird, you’re killing me…”
“Mmm.” She turned, lips brushing his as she whispered. “And you love it.”
Then she walked away, leaving him smiling in the half-light — a wolf at play, already planning his next move.