“That is very thoughtful of you,” she said, glancing up at him. “Miss Redding had a similar idea; that is why she took me shopping today. And I think the new dress I have ordered will be perfect for my debut as Duchess of Thornfield.”
“Then I very much look forward to seeing it,” Winston stated, smiling down at her. “And then, of course, spending the rest of the evening fighting off other men for your affection if it really is as fetching as you said it is.”
As Vanessa laughed loudly at her husband’s flirtatious jape—and several disapproving heads turned in her direction at the sound. She could not help but feel a glimmer of hope. If her husband was truly genuine, and he did hate the idea of other men wanting to dance with her at the ball, then perhaps that meant he really did have feelings for her—and that they might have a traditional marriage after all.
Just as long as Langdon isn’t one of those men he has to fight off,a small voice said in the back of her head. She shuddered and pushed it away. Langdon had been taken care of. There was nothing to fear now. All she had to worry about was melting the coldness around her husband’s heart. And from the way he was looking at her now, she felt sure it would not be long.
Chapter Twenty
“Where were you, Your Grace, on the morning of the fourteenth of March?” the constable asked, his dark eyes shining with something like excitement as he stared down at Winston.
Winston, however, was unimpressed. “The fourteenth of March?” He raised an eyebrow. “I have absolutely no idea. Doyouremember what you were doing on a morning almost three weeks ago now?”
“Of course, I do,” the constable said, reddening slightly. “I was chasing several gentlemen through the streets of London after they had viciously, and without provocation, attacked Lord Tallow. I remember because it was a particularly cold night, and I thought to myself that only a monster would attack a poor old man and leave him alone on the cold streets.”
“I see,” Winston said, his brow furrowing. “So when you say the morning, what you really mean is the middle of the night?”
The constable’s eyes flashed. “I mean from ten pm on the previous night, the thirteenth, all the way through the early hours of dawn on the fourteenth. Now answer the question.What were you doing?”
“Well, now that you have clarified this for me, my answer is very easy,” Winston said with a smile. “I was sleeping. What else would a man be doing in the early hours of dawn?”
The constable stepped back and surveyed Winston. The excitement in his eyes was gone, and now, he looked steely, maybe even angry. Winston had arrived at the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court half an hour earlier. After giving his name and information, he had been ushered into a small room with only a table and two uncomfortable wooden chairs where he had been left alone for some time until the constable had come in.
All in all, it had been a rather abysmal way to treat a member of the aristocracy, but Winston was trying not to complain. He had a ball to attend later that day with his wife, and he did not want to extend his time here by arguing with his interrogators.
It was hard, however, to keep his temper in check when he heard Lord Tallow being described as apoor old man.
Lord Tallow was a vicious tyrant who beat his wife regularly. She always wore long sleeves, even in summer, to hide the bruises.
“Do you know, Your Grace, what the sentence is for committing bodily harm to a member of the aristocracy?” the constableasked, his voice threatening in a way that Winston assumed was supposed to scare him.
“No,” Winston said. “But I assume you are about to tell me.”
“Well, it depends,” the constable replied, a small smile curling up the sides of his mouth, “whether or not the intended result was death. Attempted murder, I assure you, carries a much weightier sentence. One that would very much prevent a newly married man from enjoying a long and happy life with his new wife.”
“Oh, is one of your suspects newly married?” Winston asked, his expression nonplussed.
He enjoyed watching the constable redden in the face and then try to control himself—it was most amusing. Winton smiled and sat back in his chair while the constable tried to compose himself.
At last, the constable looked back at him, his face smooth and expressionless.
“How long have you been friends with Lord Kingsley?” he asked, and Winston’s stomach lurched.So, he is trying a new tactic.
“Since childhood,” Winston said. “We grew up together.”
“So do you imagine that he would do anything to protect you?”
Winston laughed. “I’d like to think so! But in reality—probably not. Most of us are selfish by nature.”
“I am less certain,” the constable said, leaning back in his chair. “I think Lord Kingsley is loyal to you above all else, and I think that if you were to ask him to enact revenge against someone, he would help you.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, he was your second when you dueled your sister’s husband after her death, was he not?”
Winston’s mouth went dry.How does he know that?
The constable’s eyes glittered. “We have spoken with Lord Egerton,” he murmured, “and he described in detail the duel that you challenged him to, the accusations you made against him when he was already deep in the throes of grief, and the scars that he left on your hands. You still have them, do you not?”
