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“Possibly both. If their motive in pursuing this is your trust, then they must act before the wedding.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “So we are in danger.”

“Of course, you are—”

Mark cut his mother off with a hand on her arm. “My mother favors the dramatic. To pursue Matthew would presume no other man could marry you before you turn thirty. And I assure you Mrs. Dove-Lyon would not let that opportunity slip away. And I am not convinced they will try to kill you. They will simply want to stop the wedding. To prevent you from marrying before you are thirty. You are, technically, still a part of the Crewood household, even though you are the dowager. Just as Matthew now holds a certain control over Mother’s finances.”

Sarah looked from Mark to Matthew. “But he cannot stop me from marrying.”

Matthew watched Sarah intently. This would be the escape she needed. While the Earl of Crewood could not stop her from marrying, she could appeal to him as her protector. She could take refuge within the household and give her future over to him. As a widow, she could marry whomever she wished, but she could not be made to marry against her will without substantial financial leverage—the threat of being evicted from the family without support, for instance. But that was already her circumstance. But in this moment she seemed more concerned that the earl would try to stop her.

“Not,” he said slowly, “if you do not wish it.”

She straightened. “Well, I certainly do not wish it. I would rather starve than throw myself under his roof again.”

Matthew bit back a laugh. “It is satisfying to know you would prefer me to starvation.”

Her eyes flashed a moment, then she raised her chin. “Try not to flatter yourself on that point, Your Grace. I may prefer starvation to that of being under my cousin’s thumb, but a number of things rank above that, not all of them pleasant to contemplate—just preferable.”

Mark snorted, and Phyllida almost crowed as she grabbed Sarah’s arm. “Well done. Now, may we get on with our stroll? We have other people to engage in our campaign.” She slipped her arm in Sarah’s and urged her along the path.

Mark fell into step with Matthew as they followed the two women. Mark’s voice dropped. “Are you not going to tell them?”

“What? That I heard from Crewood this morning, and he insists on making sure certain terms are included in the contracts?”

“That would be a start.”

Matthew shook his head. He had been mulling over Crewood’s note since it arrived early that morning. “Until we know what those terms are, I see no reason to. She knew I would write to him and that he would have to be involved in the negotiations.”

“You think he will try to stop it?”

“If I do not agree to his restrictions? Yes, I do. But he underestimates my ability to negotiate if he believes he can bully me into acquiescence.”

Mark’s eyes gleamed, and curiosity laced his words. “You have been making inquiries, have you not?”

“Let us just say that the Earl of Crewood should clean his own desk before poking into those of other people.” Matthew continued to watch as his mother and Sarah sauntered forth, their heads occasionally bowing close to each other. His mother, several inches taller than Sarah, did most of the leaning.

“And Lady Crewood’s secrets? Have you ferreted all those out yet?”

Matthew glanced at his brother. “Not completely. Financially, socially, everything seems to be on the surface. But when she moved to London, she brought only five servants, including a cook. The Crewood estate had to have a staff of thirty-five to fifty. But she brought five, all of whom originally worked for her father.”

“Perhaps she could only afford five.”

Matthew watched the two women a few moments as they interacted with other members of Society. “I do not think so. I have found out she is not quite as impoverished as she claims. Mrs. Dove-Lyon as said that her winnings from gambling are more substantial than most people realize. Apparently she loses intentionally, to prevent from building too much of a reputation, and she does not use banks for all but the essentials. No... I think those five are her secret keepers. Her protectors.”

Mark stopped. “You thinktheykilled Crewood?”

“Or they know who did. They also know what went on in that marriage. Remember what I told you about how she startled so violently when I approached her outside her house?”

“Yes.”

“I have witnessed that a few more times on our walks. If we do not talk a few moments, her mind seems to wander, and if I speak or touch her unexpectedly, she jumps. More than a mere surprise.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I am not sure, but I suspect it is why she stays home so much. She told me that except for the days she goes to the Lyon’s Den, she remains secluded.”

“So. Fierce. Secretive. Determined. Clever. Peculiar. Sounds like your perfect match.”


Tags: Abigail Bridges Historical