“He despises my sister. Not that I blame him. She is quite the hellion. Which, of course, is why Daphne enjoys her company so much.”
“Daphne? Your daughter.”
“Yes. I’m afraid she learned some of her ways from her older brothers—quite the bad influence they can be—”
“Daphne needs no encouragement from us.”
“Can you turn your head a bit to the left, my dear?”
Sarah did, tilting her head so that the duchess could take a closer look at her scar.
An oppressive silence hung in the air as she peered and harrumphed. “What an absolutely royal bastard.”
Sarah jerked straight. “Your Grace?”
“How exactly did this happen?”
Sarah bit her lower lip.
“Come, Lady Crewood. I know what they are saying about you, which is why I am here. Before my son makes anymore unexpected moves, I want to hear your side.”
Abruptly, Sarah understood the reason for the visit. “Ah. I see.”
“I am glad you do, because I do not,” said Matthew. “I am appalled.”
Sarah grinned, first at the mother, then the son. “Rumors, Your—Matthew. Because you sought to keep this arrangement private until you were convinced of its soundness—or lack thereof—your mother began to hear snippets here and there from the servants, which she put together with what she had heard about my history. And I can assure you nothing that is floating about in Society is accurate, either because the information has passed through a thousand hands or the current earl and his wife have controlled the story.” She paused as Matthew and Mark exchanged glances. “Is there something we should know?”
Matthew shifted in his chair. “Go on.”
Sarah smoothed her skirt, hoping to calm a slight quake in her fingers. More than a year had passed since she had last told the story, and she had tried to forget much of it. She took a deep breath and focused on the duchess.
“We were wintering at the country estate. My husband’s well-known cruelty could erupt at any time, often with little or no provocation. He considered it a badge of honor to catch people unawares. Servants, family, tenants, it did not matter. He seemed to relish their discomfort, even taking pleasure in their pain. One evening I had dropped a bracelet. The latch had broken. I bent to pick it up. He called me a clumsy fool and shoved me. I stumbled and tried to catch myself against the mantel, but he pushed me again, and I tumbled into the fireplace.”
Sarah closed her eyes as the memories flooded back, the suddenness of the excruciating pain, her screams, which she could not seem to stop. She swallowed hard. “My gown caught the flames near my hip and they spread in all directions. Lord Crewood laughed. My butler, Harris, rolled me away and smothered the flames with his coat. He carried me to my bedchamber and summoned a doctor. The earl tried to prevent the doctor from seeing me, saying I was pretending. The servants snuck him in through the back of the house.” Sarah opened her eyes. “As you can see, I was not putting on any kind of pretense.”
“Dear God.” Mark, smearing a hand over his mouth, retreated to the seating area at the front of the room, staring out the window. Matthew looked at his hands.
The duchess remained calm. “Go on, my dear.”
“Of course, Lord Crewood denied he played any part in it. I was merely clumsy. Tragic that I had disfigured myself, but I should be more careful. This is what he told everyone as I recovered. He refused all visitors, and he made plans to move permanently to London, so as not to have to face me. He also said that my screams of pain were far too distressing to endure any longer. Eight days later, he was dead.”
“Poison.” The duchess remained still.
Sarah gave a quick nod. “So they told me. Doctor Havers said there were signs but they were unclear, and Owen—Lord Crewood—had also”—she hesitated at the gruesome detail—“aspirated on his own—” She stopped. “The actual cause of death was asphyxiation.”
The duchess nodded. “I think we understand. But they found no poison.”
“No. And it was clear to everyone that I was not capable of doing such a thing. Following the... accident... I spent several weeks in bed, mostly sleeping. I took laudanum for the next four months. The new earl and his countess moved in around me, and had me moved to the dowager house. They had my servants investigated, and they completely reworked everything about the house. As soon as I was able, I reached out to my father, who helped me move to London, to this house.” Sarah paused, unsure of which details to offer next.
Matthew’s tender voice urged her on. “You father helped you secure the money from Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
Sarah nodded. “He died not long after. Consumption.” She sat a little straighter. “Your Grace, I know this must have come as a shock—”
“I am quite used to that from my sons. And if you are to be my daughter-in-law, you may call me Phyllida in private. I suspect my son has already pushed the formality of titles aside—”
“Useless folderol.”
“Which is surprising for a man who still prefers the title ‘Colonel’ to ‘Duke.’”