Page 43 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“A bastard,” Justin said quietly. “In every sense of the word. If you require further clarification, no doubt Hargreaves can provide it during your journey back to King’s Abbot.”

Slow-dawning comprehension registered in Hargreaves’s eyes. “By God, Thornhill, does your ambition know no bounds? First you drive a good man to his death in order to acquire this house. And now you wed a feeble-minded lady in order to…what? Worm your way into the aristocracy?” He shook his head in disgust. “Have you no shame, sir?”

“None whatsoever,” Justin said. “Will that be all, gentlemen?”

Mr. Glyde was beginning to look apoplectic. He took a menacing step toward him, fists clenched at his sides.

Justin didn’t budge an inch. He had no wish for the proceedings to devolve into violence, but if it was a fight Mr. Glyde wanted, he was more than happy to oblige him. In truth, he rather felt like putting his fist through something. And, at the moment, Mr. Glyde’s sneering face seemed a particularly desirable target.

“Ahem.” Boothroyd edged in front of Justin. “If I may interject, sirs. You will observe that the thunder we’ve been hearing is now accompanied by lightning. If the rain doesn’t relent, the cliff road will soon wash out.”

Hargreaves cocked his head toward the windows, listening to the heavy rain beating relentlessly against the glass. He heaved another sigh.

Sensing his capitulation, Mr. Glyde puffed up even further. “I won’t leave without seeing Lady Helena. His lordship commands—”

“Enough, Mr. Glyde,” Hargreaves said. “I’ve no wish to be stuck in this godforsaken abbey for the next four days.” He looked at Justin. “Lord Castleton is a powerful man, Thornhill. If his niece lacked the capacity to consent, no judge in England will consider this marriage valid.”

“The courts will void it,” Mr. Glyde said. “It won’t matter if it’s been consummated.”

“Some legal remedy will be found,” Hargreaves concurred. “You may depend upon it.”

“The cliff road, Mr. Hargreaves,” Boothroyd murmured. “Conditions are worsening by the second.”

Hargreaves settled his hat back on his head. “As you say, Mr. Boothroyd.” He touched the arm of his still fuming companion. “Come, Mr. Glyde. Nothing can be done tonight. We will return after you’ve received further instruction from his lordship. And when this foul weather has abated.”

“Tell Lady Helena I’ll be back for her,” Mr. Glyde said over his shoulder. There was unconcealed menace in his words. “She may depend upon it.”

“Yes, yes,” Hargreaves muttered. “We must away, Mr. Glyde.”

Boothroyd ushered the two men out of the library and into the hall, where Neville was waiting to show them out. A resounding crash of thunder only served to hasten their departure.

Justin watched them go, the reality of the situation sinking into the very marrow of his bones. He felt oddly numb. As if the entire encounter had happened to another a person.

When Boothroyd returned, he appeared to be equally affected. His face was a studied blank. He shut the library doors behind him and, after a long moment of silence, repaired to a nearby table which held a decanter of sherry and two glasses. He poured himself a generous measure and drank it in one swallow. “The Earl of Castleton. It beggars to belief.”

“Do you know the man?” Justin asked.

“I know the title. One of the oldest and most distinguished. One of the wealthiest as well.” Boothroyd poured himself another drink. “What do you propose to do, sir?”

Justin knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Helena. He had to demand answers. But beyond that…

“What do you advise?” he asked.

Boothroyd pursed his lips. “I’ve had my doubts about her suitability. I’ve made no secret of that. Nevertheless…I don’t believe she’s mad.”

“Nor do I,” Justin said.

“But she lied to you, sir.”

“She never lied to me.”

“Withholding the truth is tantamount to dishonesty.”

“She never lied to me,” Justin said again. “No more than I lied when I refrained from telling her about Sir Oswald or about what happened at Sati Chaura Ghat.”

Boothroyd bent his head over his glass. “Ah. So, you haven’t told her.”

Justin huffed. “Did you think I’d be proclaiming it from the rooftops?”