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iry, but kept his mouth shut. Something I guess he did frequently on your behalf?”
“I thought him loyal.”
“He was loyal to our mother. He would bring news to her from time to time of you. Your grandmother refused to let you meet her. So Ma had to find some way to know how you fared.”
Henry frowned. “This letter, I shall deny—”
“Yes, you can destroy it, but I’ll get another, then another. If necessary, I’ll bring a notary and have it made a sworn affidavit. The author of it still blames you for his dismissal from Willowby Hall, the humiliation, even though what happened was not his fault. You engineered his exit to your advantage.”
“He’s willing to go this far?” Henry pointed at the signature at the bottom of the letter and shook his head. “I believed I had not offended him. He changed his mind and left in good spirits.”
“Who?” Dara whispered to Matthew.
“Who?” Henry snorted. He sheathed his rapier and threw the whip across the floor. The dogs chased after it. “He was ambivalent, and I was young and stupid. I made a mistake in approaching one of my own manservants, and he complained to Alfie. Yes, Alfie said nothing, because he has the wit to stay silent, but I couldn’t trust a servant to keep his mouth shut. After that, I stopped using the lodge, and travelled further afield.”
“Ambivalent? What do you mean?” she asked.
“Inexperienced, too.” Henry sighed. “Just one time, and he baulked, realising he wasn’t as keen as he, or I, thought. I bore him no ill-will, and I assumed he would shrug off our misadventure. It was a misunderstanding. Then I feared his animosity if he thought I might reveal what had happened in the lodge; why I’ve no idea. I paid him a handsome sum, I might add, in compensation for his dismissal.”
Dara wished for a better explanation than that. “Matthew—”
Matthew wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He spoke quietly, for her benefit only. “Tis simple, lass. Henry prefers the company of men, not women. He needed marriage for heirs, not a lover.”
“Oh.” She shrank back on her heels. She’d not thought such an alliance was possible. But the revelation, as shocking as it might seemed, explained many things about Henry’s behaviour toward her. The lack of consummation and his frustrated visit to her bedchamber the previous night being the most obvious observation.
“Do you not like me?” she asked her husband.
“You’re pretty enough. Just not as I like it,” Henry said unapologetically.
“What do you mean, farther afield?” She now had the stronger position; Henry had lost his bravado, even the dogs sensed it. They milled around his feet, whining.
Matthew pointed to the letter. “After that sorry affair, I suspect his lordship travelled a great deal in the hope of finding the right companion for his needs. I suspect, given his frequent and lengthy absences, he has.”
“Overseas,” Henry said. “Not everywhere is as harsh as this country.”
Dara suddenly understood the significance. “You have a... a lover? You, you... are also unfaithful, sir, and you married me with the intention of continuing this affair?”
Henry blushed. Dara laughed. She couldn’t help it. She felt justifiably angry, but also a perverse sense of pity toward her husband. He had treated her abominably while knowing he was cheating on her and acted as if everything was her fault. But now he stood before her weakened and stripped of authority. The very set of circumstances he must fear as much as losing his reputation and dignity.
“Humiliating, isn’t it? Answering questions about your private matters.” She folded her arms across her chest, feeling there was more humbling to come.
Matthew, though, frowned. “We’re brothers, Henry, I don’t want to see you driven out of the country to live in permanent exile. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable and talk about Dara’s future, the one she deserves.”
Henry, the letter still crushed in his fist, led them downstairs and into the library. This time, he chose not the formidable chair behind the desk, but a low-slung armchair. He flopped into it.
“What do you plan to do?” he asked Matthew.
Matthew directed Dara to sit, while he remained on his feet. In a matter of minutes, he’d gone from being an unwanted intruder to appearing as if he was the lord of the house and not Henry.
Dara cleared her throat. “Kings are allowed lovers. Queens, too, I suspect. I have natural desires, Henry, I merely sought them out when you failed me.”
He looked at her with a new expression: jealousy. “My kind of mistress is forbidden by law. Gossip is the least of my worries.”
Matthew rocked on his heels. “I suggest a compromise. Tis only fair that all of us come out of this with our honour and good name intact.”
“How?” she said. What possible solution would leave her with Matthew and esteemed in the eyes of her father?
“By staying married to Henry.” He hushed her before she could reject his proposal. It was surely out of the question to keep up the pretence. “Since you and Henry have both engaged in”—he smirked—“inappropriate activities, then it would be devastating to the Colemans and your family, Dara, to seek a divorce and all the ensuing gossip. Lies will get muddled up with the truth, and I’ll be damned if Dara has to put up with that misery. My mother went to great lengths to protect my father and me from scandal.”
