Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“That is impossible,” William whispered. Only loud enough for Seraphina to hear in the drawing room.
“I assure you, William, it is not only impossible, but it is downright ludicrous,” Seraphina countered, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “The woman who resides in this house is Lady Byron. She is a widowed Viscountess. She is most certainly not an Amanda Higgins.“
“The information provided by my inquiry is beyond reproach,” William insisted, stepping toward the hearth and adjusting his coat.
“Amanda Higgins was the daughter of an Earl. She vanished from London society over twenty years ago under circumstances so thoroughly obscured that even the parish registers lost trace of her. She was a mistress to my late father.”
Seraphina stared at him as though he had begun speaking in ancient Greek.
“A mistress to the late Duke? William, have you lost your senses entirely? Lady Byron is a woman of virtue! She took in my sisters and me when we were left with nothing. She raised us. She provided us with a home, an education, and a sanctuary. She has lived in this valley for years as a respectable dowager.”
“Which is precisely why she was so difficult to track,” William said.
“A complete disappearance into the countryside, a sudden assumption of a minor, obscure title, and an utterly impenetrable private life. Of the three individuals who had direct, historical access to my father’s personal signet ring, Amanda Higgins was the only one whose existence could not be verified by public record.
She went off the radar completely, Seraphina.
It is the only logical thread that holds. ”
“It is a thread made of cobwebs.” Seraphina scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“There is no Amanda Higgins in this house! There has never been an Amanda Higgins in this house. Unless you are suggesting she is hiding in the pantry alongside the preserves, your informant has handed you a fiction. We ought to return to the carriage this instant. If Lady Byron finds us standing in her drawing room making wild, scandalous accusations against her honor, she will have us both thrown out, with very little regard for who you are.”
William looked at her with a maddening amusement that only heightened her irritation. “You are remarkably anxious to flee, Duchess.”
“I am anxious to avoid a humiliating scene,” she snapped back, though her voice dropped to a fierce whisper as she glanced nervously doors.
“Lady Byron married a very old Viscount two decades ago, an impoverished man who passed away less than a year into their union, leaving her the small estate and the title. She has been the Dowager Viscountess Byron for as long as anyone in this county can remember.”
“Does that brief, conveniently timed marriage to an elderly, dying nobleman not strike your mind as even slightly suspect?” William asked, tilting his head.
“A young, penniless woman of good birth disappears from London, abruptly reappears in the north as the bride of a dying Viscount, inherits a small estate, and buries herself away from the world?”
“It strikes me as the sensible maneuvering of a woman with few financial options,” Seraphina declared, though a treasonous prickle of doubt began to itch at the back of her mind.
She quickly suppressed it. “Are you truly so stubborn that you cannot admit your men made an error? There is no one by that name here. None of her staff, none of her acquaintances, no one!”
“Then let us ask the owner of the house directly,” William said smoothly.
“We cannot do that!”
“Why not?”
Before Seraphina could offer another furious rebuttal, the doors swung open, and a figure stepped into the room.
Lady Byron had not changed in the months Seraphina had been away.
She remained a woman of imposing, immaculately preserved elegance, clad in her customary black gown with a lace cap resting atop her silvered hair.
Her eyes swept over the drawing room, taking in the space before coming to a rest upon the two uninvited visitors standing near the hearth.
For a long second, no one spoke. Seraphina caught her breath, her heart pounding as she watched her face.
Lady Byron’s mouth thinned into a curve. “Well...” she murmured, her voice as dry as autumn leaves as she curtsied. “What an unexpected, remarkably unannounced honor, Your Grace.”
William bowed. “Lady Byron. Good to finally meet you.”
“Your Grace,” she said, inclining her head just an inch to Seraphina as well. She folded her hands over her waist, scanning her from head to foot. “How remarkably gracious of you to bless me with your presence on this auspicious afternoon.”
“Lady Byron —” Seraphina began, taking a half-step forward.
“I assume...” Lady Byron interrupted, lifting an eyebrow.
“...that you have finally dragged your new husband all the way from your estate to crave my formal blessing? Like your sister had done? A bit tardy, is it not? You managed to marry the Duke of Norwyn without so much as a line of advance notice to the woman who raised you, much like Euphemia before you. Now you stand in my drawing room, expecting me to beam upon your late-blooming domestic bliss?”
She let out a dismissive tsk, turning her back on them to adjust a porcelain vase upon a side table.
“If that is the purpose of this pilgrimage, Seraphina, I am afraid you have wasted your time,” Lady Byron continued coldly.
“I gave my blessing to Euphemia’s sudden match, but I certainly see no reason to bestow it upon yours.
You made your choices in London. You preferred the noise of Mayfair and the company of gentlemen to your duties here.
You cannot simply drop in when the mood strikes you and expect open arms.”
“We are not here to seek your blessing, Lady Byron,” Seraphina said, stepping around William so she stood directly in her line of sight. “That’s not why we came.”
Lady Byron turned back around slowly, her eyebrows rising. “Oh? Then pray enlighten me. Why have you invaded my home?”
“We are here because threatening letters have been sent to my residence in London,” Seraphina said, knowing she couldn’t keep the truth hidden anymore.
“Letters threatening to expose my column. Letters stamped with the crest of the Duke of Norwyn’s family.
William’s inquiries have led him directly to this address. ”
Lady Byron did not flinch. Not a single muscle in her face twitched. “Threatening letters?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I am sorry that I am only telling you so late that I was being blackmailed. But I had a handle on things and did not want to disturb you.”
Seraphina turned to William, skeptical to continue.
“The letters were sent by a woman named Amanda Higgins,” Seraphina pressed, watching her eyes intently, desperate to see a flash of denial that would prove William wrong.
“A woman who went off the public registers decades ago. William is convinced that Amanda Higgins resides within these walls.”
Lady Byron blinked slowly. “Amanda Higgins? I have never heard a more mundane name in all my days. Is she a housemaid you suspect of pilfering your stationery? Because I assure you, my staff is entirely honest.”
“I know that,” Seraphina said. “I told him the notion is absurd.”
William stepped forward then. “I do not think now is the time to play the ignorant dowager with me, Lady Byron,” William said.
“William!” Seraphina whispered to him.
“I am a thorough man,” he continued. “When I set my mind to investigating an anomaly, I do not stop until I have unspooled every thread. Amanda Higgins was the daughter of the Earl of Fenwick. She vanished from London following a scandal involving my father, the late Duke of Norwyn. Coincidentally, remarkably so, her disappearance aligns precisely with the period in which a young unknown woman arrived in this northern valley, married an ailing Viscount, and assumed the title of Viscountess Byron.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched in her chest. She looked sharply at Lady Byron, waiting for the outrage that ought to follow such a claim.
Lady Byron merely stood there. Her expression remained entirely smooth, a porcelain mask of perfect calm.
“You are an Earl’s daughter?” Seraphina whispered. “Lady Byron... is that true?”
“It would be exceptionally easy for me to bring the parish records, the registry of the Fenwick estate, and three living witnesses who can identify you from Mayfair to this room within a week,” William added coolly, crossing his arms. “If you know something, I think it is best to tell us.”
Lady Byron remained still, fiddling with the vase on the side table. Then, slowly, the posture of her spine relaxed just a fraction. A strange sound escaped her lips. It sounded like a dry, bitter laugh that was hollow.
She shook her head, turning away from them to walk toward her armchair near the window. She sat down, refusing to look at them.
“Fine,” Lady Byron finally said.
Seraphina felt the room tilt slightly beneath her feet. “Fine? What do you mean, fine?”
“I mean, fine,” Lady Byron repeated, looking up at Seraphina with an expression that was devoid of remorse. “Yes. I sent the letters. But it was not blackmail, Seraphina. Don’t be so ridiculously melodramatic. It was a test.”
“A test?” Seraphina repeated, her voice cracking slightly.
“A test of your fortitude,” Lady Byron said, waving a hand dismissively.
“I wished to see how you would handle true pressure. You have spent years hiding behind your intellectual hubris, writing your clever articles, convinced of your own absolute invulnerability. I wanted to see if you would fold the moment a real threat presented itself. I wanted to see if you possessed the resilience to protect your work, or if you would run whimpering to a corner the moment London society bared its teeth.”