Page 45 of Sinfully Daring

Rosamund took a deep breath and reminded herself that being ruined would not kill her. Her family and friends loved her. They would stand by her; they would weather the storm.

“Whatever it is making you look so Friday faced, you’d best get it over with,” she said, aiming for a light-hearted tone but only sounding breathless and terrified.

“I know, Ozzie, only… only I don’t know how. You ought not have to bear this burden.”

“I won’t break, Jules,” she said, her heart thudding harder as he pulled up a chair in front of her own and sat down.

Leaning forward, he took her hand in his, such an affectionate gesture from her big brother that her eyes prickled.

“Of course you won’t break,” he said scornfully. “The women in this family are made of steel. Oh, father and I make out like we’re the backbone of the dukedom, but it’s only a front. We know it’s Mama that keeps Papa from losing his mind, we know it’s Eliza and Lottie and you, and soon the other young female brats who always keep the family name upheld whilst I gallivant, pretending I’m doing the important job of learning to be a fat, lazy nobleman.”

Despite everything, Rosamund’s lips quirked. “My, it must be bad if you’re being nice to me.”

Jules nodded, holding her hand tighter. “It is, sis.”

“Tell me.”

“Lady Hargreaves is dead.”

Rosamund stared at Jules as the words sank in. “B-But that… she can’t… How?” she finally demanded, uncertain Jules hadn’t misunderstood whatever information he’d been given.

“The police enquiry states she fell down the stairs and broke her neck,” Jules said, his expression impassive. “The staff found her yesterday morning.”

Rosamund swallowed, an awful buzzing in her head accompanying the dizzying speed at which her heart was beating.

“Hargreaves was with her?”

“In the house, yes. Drunk out of his skull. He had retired to his room and Adelia… fell down the stairs.”

“But that’s not what people think.”

It was obvious what people would think, in the circumstances.

Jules shook his head. “No. They think Hargreaves pushed her.”

Rosamund snatched her hand from his grip and stood, forcing him to shift sideways as she stumbled away from him, heading to the window. She unlatched it and swung it wide, leaning out and gasping for air.

“No!” she said, shaking her head, sucking in lungfuls of air that seemed never to allow her to breathe. “No! He didn’t. He didn’t! He didn’t!”

Jules ran to her, taking her by the shoulders. “Breathe, Rosamund. Breathe in, breathe out. You’ll faint if you don’t calm yourself.”

“I never faint!” she retorted furiously, glaring at him over her shoulder and then shrugging out of his hold. “And I am not hysterical. I’m damned furious!”

“Ozzie, you have got to admit, it’s suspicious. Everyone heard him tell her he would kill her, and hours later she’s dead,” Jules said, his voice calm, patient, as if speaking to an overwrought child.

Rosamund called on years of training to hide her thoughts and feelings, slamming her public mask into place and speaking with such cold calm that Jules stared at her.

“Lord Hargreaves is the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known. He would never lay a hand on a woman. This I believe. He is not capable of murder.”

“No one said anything about murder,” Jules said, his expression softening. “But he tore her room apart, smashing everything he could get his hands on, furniture, china, jewels and clothes, he destroyed everything she owned. He was out of his head drunk by the time his wife got home. She came back and confronted him, and they had one hell of a row. The night staff heard them at it.”

“And did they see him push her down the stairs?” Rosamund demanded. “Did they witness it with their own eyes?”

“No,” Jules admitted. “They heard the door slam to his room, and it went quiet, so they thought the show was over. It must have happened once they’d gone downstairs, for no one found her until the staff were about their morning chores.”

“So, she likely fell down the stairs like the police said. If she was overwrought, she could have missed her footing, or tripped on her skirts,” Rosamund said furiously. “It’s easily done, I assure you.”

“She could have.” Jules nodded, though there was enough doubt in his eyes to make her want to hit him.