The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (38 page)

Lady Lawrence silenced Logan with a wave of her violet gloves. “I apologize for that misunderstanding. I was misled, something you both have fallen victim to by the hands of the same person.”

“I accept your apology, my Lady,” Arabella offered the terse woman a compassionate glance. “How is your son?”

“My son …” Her words trailed off, the only sounds disturbing the thick silence being the faint
tick-tock
of the clock on the mantel and the fire hissing and cracking in the hearth.

For the first time, the steely façade began to crumble as the Dowager Duchess expelled a deep breath. “My son is an eccentric man. His wife died after a brief union. He has no heirs. In truth, he lives the life of a bachelor. I say this because I believe I owe you the truth. I trust that you will not betray my confidence.”

Arabella nodded. “You have my word.”

“And yours?” Lady Lawrence studied Logan, her tone terse.

Her eyes had taken a hollow appearance, as if weighted by fatigue. Logan knew enough about human nature to discern that this woman was in desperate need of speaking with someone.

Therefore, he complied with a nod. “You have my word, as well.”

“My son is a child, really. Though he possesses a title and inheritance, he is lacking the good sense to realize that hiding jewels and currency in one’s mattress is bad form.” She pursed her lips. “As was inviting your sister into our home. I reside with him, you know. I was in my upstairs suite. When I entered his room … imagine seeing your child bathed in blood, wailing in agony. Though grown, he will always be my child. On that night, I thought he would die. He almost did.”

She paused, removing a pristine white handkerchief edged with lace before dabbing her eyes. “When White – Harry White, our former footman, told me the name of the culprit, I sought vengeance. I had no intention of killing you, just handing you over to the authorities.”

“You were willing for society to know the truth about your son?” Logan’s brow furrowed.

He had not expected such an admission.

“It was the only way to teach him his lesson, if he recovered. Which he did, thank goodness.” Lady Lawrence leaned forward, another crack in her steely façade. “I acted without considering the consequences and failed to comprehend that White may have been mistaken or may have lied to me. I also failed to consider that the men I hired might endanger you, regardless of my instructions. I am sorry for my shortsightedness.”

Arabella nodded her understanding. “The truth will reveal itself now.”

“It may,” the elder woman with brown hair peppered with a streak of silver strands nodded. “Although I don’t believe others in attendance this evening are as willing as I am to allow their indiscretions to be revealed. Scandal is the means to ruination. Will all of them be willing to suffer such a fate? I think not.”

Lady Lawrence voiced a valid point.

Time would reveal Sybil’s fate.

The Dowager Duchess stood, smoothing her violet and silver skirts. “I must take my leave. Thank you for inviting me this evening, Mr. Ambrose. I wish you and your wife a happy life together.”

Logan escorted her to his footman, instructing the burly man in green and gold livery to escort Lady Lawrence to her carriage. He then rejoined his wife in the parlor.

Bella stood by the windows, her arms crossed over her chest. “She is right, you know. Many of Sybil’s victims will not wish for her to live. They will want to protect their secrets.”

“I know,” Logan slid his palms around his wife’s waist until they rested on her abdomen. “It is no surprise. We expected as much.”

Inhaling deeply, Arabella stood stock still, staring out the window. Watching as the Dowager Duchess of Atwell ascended the stairs to her carriage before disappearing from view.

She concentrated on her husband’s hands, warm and gentle, splayed atop her belly, where their child currently resided. She concentrated on the torches lighting the entrance to Winterthorne and the large trees that dotted the landscape surrounding the circular drive. In truth, Arabella concentrated on everything but the fact that her sister will most likely die at the hands of her victims.

Yet, try as she might, Bella could not forget.

“When do you think we shall learn of Sybil’s fate?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Logan kissed her neck. “On the morrow. Arthur has no doubt proceeded with the plan and is presently on his way to London with Harry. He will drop the young man off and supply us with information about Sybil as soon as he learns of it.”

Arabella’s heart ached as she placed her hands over Logan’s, realization setting in. Sybil, her twin, the person she knew long before they were born, having shared a womb for nine months would most likely die on this night. The fact that Sybil tried to kill her only added to Bella’s heavy heart.

It could have been different.

It should have been different.

Her sister didn’t have to live the life she chose. After all this time, Arabella still failed to comprehend Sybil’s choices.

“Sometimes we will never know what motivates those we love.” As if reading her mind, Logan’s whispered words caused a ripple of icy acceptance to shoot up her spine.

He was correct, of course. Bella would never know what caused her sister to be so callous about human life, to choose the path she had. What Arabella could comprehend was that she was in no mood to celebrate on this night.

“Perhaps our celebration can wait?” she asked, leaning her head against Logan’s chest.

“For as long as you need.” He kissed her neck once again, his warm breath causing her to shiver.

“Let’s retire for the evening,” Arabella laced her fingers with his. “I am cold and fatigued. The one wish I have is for you to hold me.”

Logan wrapped her in his warm embrace. “That is a wish I will gladly grant. All night and beyond.”

Her husband was true to his word.

Holding her all night and into the morning. Though Arabella shed no tears, her soul wept for her twin. For all Sybil could have accomplished, for the person she could have been, for the love she could have known. If only she had been less selfish, less envious, more compassionate.

Logan’s warmth infused Bella with fortitude for the dreaded news that arrived as they were dining in their suite late the following afternoon.

The footman delivered the latest edition of the
Tattler
with a personalized note from Arthur. Written in his smudged, choppy script were two words:

My condolences
.

Arabella handed the
Tattler
page to Logan, as bile rose in her throat. “Please read it.”

He skimmed the page. “It says that Sybil attempted an escape en route from Northamptonshire to London. She jumped out of a moving carriage to her death. Bella, I am sorry.”

Standing, Arabella crossed the room before leaning against the mantel above the hearth. She studied the flames in the grate as their golden-orange shapes blurred, her vision distorted from the tears she refused to shed the night before.

So engrossed was she that Bella failed to hear Logan approach until he placed his hand on the small of her back, rubbing it in lazy circles.

“Why am I crying?” Arabella clutched her robe tight over her chest, to ward off the surprising chill of grief that suddenly consumed her. “After all she did, who Sybil was … why am I wracked with sorrow?”

Logan nestled his chin against the crook of her neck. “Because you care even though Sybil gave you every reason not to. Those are just a couple of the multitude of reasons why I love you. You are allowed to grieve for your twin.”

Turning, she buried herself in her husband’s strong embrace, accepting his comfort as she wept for a sister she would never understand.

As sobs wracked her body, Arabella recited a silent prayer.

May God forgive Sybil for her sins.

However, since she had shown no remorse or humility for her sins, Bella feared that Sybil would more than likely be answering to another entity.

The possibility sent a shudder straight through to her soul, as if the devil himself had acknowledged that Sybil was indeed in hell.

The days following Sybil’s fall from grace garnered many revelations and shocking secrets about the nobles she blackmailed and stole from.

Arabella wadded the latest
Tattler
between her palms, tossing it into the deep hole in the ground. “Arthur is keeping busy, I see.”

Yes, Arthur had returned to London where he ensured that those present during Sybil’s death were unmasked for their own sins. As for Faustino Beniamino, authorities linked him to several of Sybil’s crimes. Though the composer had already fled the continent, it was clear he would never return for fear of facing charges.

“I hope you have found peace,” Bella sighed, staring at the nondescript wooden box below, watching as the gravediggers shoveled soil atop Sybil’s casket.

Instead of burying her sister with her parents, which Sybil would have despised, Arabella buried her in a small cemetery on the outskirts of London. She had ensured a spot with no trees, given Sybil’s aversion to them.

Sybil had craved fame in life, and reached notoriety in death. Which is why she would remain under a nameless tombstone. She had wronged too many people, hurt too many, that Bella decided this was for the best.

Buried without a name, her tombstone would be engraved with two words –
Beloved daughter
– because she was, to their parents. At least on Mama’s part. At the time of their mother’s passing, Mama believed Sybil’s acts of rebellion and fits of jealousy were simply those of a child longing to spread her wings and test her boundaries.

Mama never lived to see how wrong she was.

Perhaps, if their mother had survived, Sybil would not have lost her humanity, would have traveled down a different, less sinister path.

No, it was best to stop this now for Arabella dared not travel the trail of “What if?” for fear of the guilt it would arouse in her own burdened soul.

Instead, Bella chose to forgive her sister. Holding a grudge was fruitless, besides, Bella refused to allow Sybil to wield any power over her in death, as she had in life.

Life … precious and treasured, Arabella refused to waste one more moment on her sister’s actions.

It was a choice, one Bella made with a succinct clarity.

She had regained control of her life and refused to relinquish it to a ghost.

“Goodbye, Sybil,” Bella said before she and Logan returned to their carriage.

Once they were settled and the carriage lurched forward, she lost herself in her husband’s embrace.

“Are you all right?” Logan whispered.

Bella nodded. “I will be. Us spending time with Fiona, Eve, Colin, Victoria, and Tristan will be the best way to cheer me.”

“Then it is quite fortuitous that we will be staying with Colin, Eve, and Fiona in their London townhome,” Logan’s tone was laced with mirth, meant to draw her from the gloom that had consumed her.

Bella grinned, “Quite.”

The distraction would be a welcome one.

As much as she may mourn her sister, the person she once was and the person she had become, life proceeded forward. Inevitably, seconds ticked by, followed by minutes, hours, and days in rapid succession.

“Let us not waste a moment of our lives together,” Bella leaned against Logan’s arm. “Promise me that.”

Logan kissed her head, that habit Arabella would never tire of. “I promise.”

As sure as the changing of the seasons, his word was his bond. Her husband never broke his promises to her. So, Arabella clung to his words as hope sprouted within her heart.

Reminded of all she held dear – Logan, their unborn child, their family and friends – Bella sensed a change in herself.

She would cling to hope and happiness.

For they were all that mattered now.