Silent Deception (8 page)

“Men.”

Minnie leaned back and scanned the first few pages. In her own words, the picture of a quiet young lady appeared. Hettie at dancing classes, at the dressmaker’s. Minnie smiled at her enthusiasm over a new ball gown for her 18th birthday–all lace and frills in pale blue, matching her eyes. Minnie could just imagine it. Hettie riding in Hyde Park, accompanied by a groom. Hettie ignoring her father’s attempts at matchmaking. Hettie attending a recital at Lady Houghton’s town house.

“There we are.” Minnie held her breath and read.

15th July 1808.

A week after my birthday, Father dragged me to another recital. Oh, I almost fell asleep. Viola Wilson’s voice grated on my nerves, giving me headaches, and Father talked to several young gentlemen present, pointing at me. I felt like a prize horse at auction!

Then, the most wonderful thing happened. I met him.

My heart lurched at the sight of this handsome gentleman; his tall, impeccable demeanor, his dark hair and eyes black as night glowing in the candlelight as he asked me how I was enjoying the evening. My voice caught in my throat, and to my shame, I only managed a stammer. Did he walk away, disgusted? No! He introduced himself as Lord Rufus Drake–Rufus, such a romantic name–and brought me a glass of punch and spoke to me as if interested in my opinion. Father was watching us closely.

Three days later, he asked me to ride in the park with him. Of course, Will accompanied us. Father had this calculating look on his face. I don’t like it. But I did enjoy Lord Drake’s company. He pays me many compliments–utterly untrue, no doubt–and we have such lovely times.

“How sweet.” Minnie flipped a couple of pages forward, feeling like an intruder reading about Hettie’s growing affection for Rufus. They even stole secret kisses when her groom looked the other way. Excitement flooded Minnie as she read on. Hettie sounded so happy.

But by November 1808, her smudged writing told a sad tale.

I don’t know what to do. Dear Rufus’ father has forbidden him to see me and instead announced Rufus’ engagement to Lady Annabelle Blount. My heart cries but no-one listens. Father said, of course, it couldn’t last. The son of an earl, and me, the daughter of a mere businessman.

Tears are streaming down my face and my hand shakes so much I can barely write. I want to die. I don’t ever want to look at another man. Poor Rufus has no choice, although he suggested we elope to the continent. Live in Florence or Paris. How romantic! But what would our life be like? I can’t take his heritage from him. He’ll be Earl of Rothdale one day and I’ll be…

Minnie swallowed hard. Tears stung her eyes. Hettie’s entry of that day stopped mid sentence, a thin line of ink trailing off the page. The next few entries didn’t mention Rufus at all, until 7th April 1809. Rufus’ wedding day. Hettie’s heartache still lingered. Then the entries grew fewer; she appeared to withdraw.

Until 20th August 1812. “Ah!”

My wedding day has arrived. Having never met my proposed husband, I’m filled with trepidation. Apparently Mr. Bartholomew Walker is several years older than me, of strong build–does that mean big?–and a pleasant if strict demeanor. I’m not sure. Father sold me to him to gain advantages in a profitable shipping route. It does not matter. My heart died a long time ago.

Shifting her gaze to the opposite page, Minnie froze. Walker beat Hettie on their wedding night?

“Good God!” Her shaking hands flipped the pages, but the rare entries only showed Hettie’s disintegrating marriage. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

November 1815. Hettie’s last entry.

I don’t know what to do. I think he suspects me. Yesterday, he searched my bedroom. A strong scent of port hung in the air. He never visits me these days, thank God. I wonder if he caught a letter from R. He has been drinking more in the last few weeks.

This morning, I walked along the cliffs when he approached me. He was so angry but wouldn’t tell me why. As I tried to return to the house, he tripped me and I twisted my ankle. I lost my favorite shawl in the breeze. He laughed as I watched it fly over the cliff’s edge. But what he said then terrified me most. He said, ‘Why don’t you jump after the damned thing and fetch it.’ Perhaps that’s my fate.

Minnie’s skin crawled. The entry meant Walker must have found the diary only after Hettie’s disappearance. But why did she leave it behind? Had she left in a hurry?

Gideon. He must see this.

Clutching the diary, she leapt to her feet, aware that it wasn’t three o’clock yet but convinced Gideon would want to know.

Chapter Eight

Gideon swore as he browsed through the papers. Discarding loose sheets on the dining table, he stared at the empty letters.

Publication of this would destroy the Rothdale name. His father would turn in his grave. His mother…

“God.” With a shaky hand, he pulled the leather thong at his neck loose and raked through his hair. Why did it have to be so complicated? He closed his eyes briefly.

For Minnie’s sake–and reputation–he wished there was a way to exonerate Walker without revealing Rufus’ affair with a married woman. Even if Rufus had remained in London while keeping Henrietta in Kent, the facts would soon become distorted.

His family would be snubbed. As for him, he could deal with it; didn’t care enough to give a damn. But Mother? Her prim attitude and strict notion of honor wouldn’t be able to cope.

No, somehow he must convince Minnie to let the matter rest.

A knock on the parlor door disrupted his musing. “My lord?” Wilfrid, Charles’ elderly butler, stood in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”

Gideon groaned inwardly. Had Minnie arrived early? It was barely two o’clock. He wasn’t ready to face her yet. Reluctantly, he picked up the thong to tie his hair back. “Give me a mo–”

“Gideon, darling.”

His day had just deteriorated. “Emmaline.” He rose stiffly, as he watched his former mistress rush forward in a tight fitting riding jacket, emphasizing her slim waist, and flouncing skirt. It had been three months since his last visit where he made his intentions clear never to see her again, and he’d hoped his absence would enable her to seek another–rich–lover. This had clearly not been her plan.

“What are you doing here?” He tried to fend off her embrace, but her arms encircled his neck like an octopus. Gently, he extricated himself and stood back.

Emmaline pouted. “I’ve been lonely. You left me for so long…” The whiney voice grated on him. How had he ever found her appealing?

“I was busy.” What the hell was he going to do? Sweat beaded his brow. He could hardly throw out Lady Emmaline Crowther, a peer’s widow, host of endless rounds of recitals and prime gossip in London circles.

But she mustn’t meet Minnie. Or rather, the other way round. Minnie meant too much–

“You can’t stay here.”

“What?” Her delicate eyebrow raised, she dropped onto the settee and placed one long leg over the other, revealing a shapely booted ankle. Intentionally, of course. “I’ve only just arrived. Did you realize how far away from me you were?” Her tone grew sour.

Gideon snorted. “Yes, Emmaline. And did you remember my last words three months ago? I meant them.” He paced the room, his mind whirling. Perhaps he should send a message to Trekellis, telling Minnie he’d come over later.

Emmaline’s smile faltered. “No, you didn’t, darling. You need me.” She fanned her suddenly flushed face with a pristine white glove.

He strode to the door and threw it open. “Wilfrid!”

In an instant, the butler appeared. “My lord?”

“Please bring cool refreshments for Lady Crowther.”

“Right away, my lord.”

Gideon turned back and stopped in his tracks. Emmaline had unbuttoned her riding jacket, revealing lacy trimmings of her underwear. The hem of her skirt also seemed to have ridden up her legs. “Good God, Em, please cover yourself. Wilfrid is returning in a minute.”

Fury shot through him. Why now? Had he not been clear? A pang of conscience nudged him. He’d not gone away from their relationship entirely unrewarded. In fact, Emmaline’s reputation as a passionate mistress of one of his London friends had presented him with a challenge following the man’s wedding. Could he seduce the widow of a lord, the mistress of another? He had, in his selfish pride, and now he paid the price.

Brushing away the memory, he sat on a chair, keeping his distance as Emmaline made no effort to cover herself.

“Look–”

“Wilfrid doesn’t know me, we’re hundreds of miles away from London, and I’m hot. So, no.” She watched him through lowered eyelids, a look he’d once found arousing. Now it simply disgusted him.

“I meant every word, Em. I would have thought you’d have found another…benefactor by now.”

She sat up, eyes wide. “What do you take me for, Gideon? A whore? I always insisted on us being honest, so–”

“So you thought you could bed me into marriage, is that it? I’m afraid, you were wrong.” Shame rushed through him, yet her aggressive attitude irritated him. But it was too late in the day to send her back to London. Likely, she’d spent over a week traveling. “Why did you come here?”

“I missed you.” Her gaze softened, her fingers running along the buttons of her jacket. “So much.”

Gideon sighed. “I’m sorry, Emmaline. I never gave you any indication I wanted to marry. It’s not something I’d ever considered doing. At my last visit, I told you it was over, that you’d be better off seeking the company of a lord more willing to offer you marriage and security. You know all of London. It would be easy for you…with your charm, your looks.”

“You mean my body? A body you–if I may remind you–couldn’t get enough of earlier this year.” Darts shot from her eyes as she slipped off her jacket completely. She approached him and knelt at his feet, her full breasts bursting from the lace trimmed bodice. One hand covering his, the other on his thigh, she resembled a nymph. Yet his body didn’t react. Anymore.

“Don’t make a spectacle of yourself.” His fury had reached a point where he was close to forgetting his manners.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Here’s our tea. Please get up. I don’t want Wil–”

The door opened, and Gideon’s blood froze.

Minnie.

***

Tears sprung into Minnie’s eyes. Her vision blurred.

“I…I’m sorry,” she muttered before she turned on her heel, dropping the diary from a limp hand. Half blinded by tears, she stumbled past a butler staring open mouthed. Her trembling fingers fumbling with the lock, she threw open the door to escape the picture in her head.

Gideon with a half naked woman on his lap. How dared he?

“Wait,” she hailed the stable boy before he disappeared into the stables with the mare. “I’m going back.”

“Minnie,” Gideon’s voice hoarse, he almost ran across the hall.

“Quick, help me up.” She urged the lad who lifted her into the side saddle.

“Minnie, wait!” Steps sounded on the gravel behind her. With blunt force, she kicked the mare’s flanks and set off at a canter.

“Wait, please.”

Ignoring his pleas, she pushed the mare to a run. How stupid she’d been! She’d thought they had a bond. She trusted him.

She needed him.

Yet, it was likely this…woman had stayed with him at Eaton Hall all along. Probably to while away the boredom of the countryside. Minnie let the tears run down her face unheeded. It didn’t concern her.
He
didn’t concern her. Not anymore.

And to think she spent half the night, clad only in her nightdress, next to him in an empty house! Heat shot into her cheeks.

She vaguely remembered the direction back to Trekellis, though at this moment she didn’t care where she was going.

She’d show him.

Anger surged through her at the memory of the woman’s hand on Gideon’s thigh. Five minutes later, and God only knew what she would have encountered.

She had a lucky escape. And now, she’d do as she must. The truth about Walker, Hettie and Rufus must come out. Tomorrow, she’d send a letter to the editor of the
Cornish Times
. The Drakes would be exposed, the Rothdale name pulled through the mud. Where it belonged. Like grandfather, like grandson.

If it took her all night to write it…

“Minnie!”

She turned her head. Gideon, astride his stallion, approached her at a fast gallop, waving her to stop. Her mare wasn’t powerful enough to outrun the beast. Damn the man! Determined to try, she urged the poor animal on.

Minnie veered away from the path, towards the grass bordering the cliffs. The ideal short cut. Once at Trekellis, she could hide from him. Forever.

“Minnie, please wait.” He was begging, but also getting closer.

If she could just–