Page 484 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Do not pretend you don’t know about the letter that was printed in the John Bull by James Stuart, solicitor for Baron Wylst,” Lady Evers shot back. “Poor Lord Wylst. It is now plain Lord Grayson did, indeed, murder him.”

The letter printed? Darkness squeezed in around Josephine’s vision. Lord Wylst had made good on his threat to publish the truth upon his death? She, Nicholas, and her family had talked about this, knew it could happen. Despite Nicholas’ efforts, he had been unable to locate any solicitor who admitted to doing more for Lord Wylst than the passing legal matter. He owed money to half a dozen solicitors and Nicholas had concluded that even if the baron’s threat were true, he was so deeply in debt that it was unlikely he had paid any solicitor enough money to guarantee that his wishes would be carried out upon his death.

But Nicholas had been wrong,

The thought snapped Josephine from her stupor. Nick had been wrong and he would suffer as a result.

She took a step toward Lady Evers. “I advise you to beware what accusations you throw about, my lady. Lord Grayson and my father will not take kindly to attacks on his lordship’s reputation and character.”

Lady Evers shrunk back in uncertainty. She darted a glance at Miss Henley, whose eyes had gone wide as saucers.

Anger pinched Lady Evers’ mouth. “The truth cannot stay buried forever.”

Jo gave a harsh laugh. “Indeed not, as Sheriff Boyd demonstrated when he proved that Lord Grayson defended me against Lord Wylst.”

“And you expect us to believe that the fact you are not truly Lord Montagu’s legitimate daughter has nothing to do with Lord Grayson killing the baron?”

Her heart began to pound. If the news had reached Inverness from a small paper like the John Bull that could only mean that all of Great Britain knew. Her mind came to a sudden halt.

“The John Bull?” she repeated. The story hadn’t been printed in the Times? “Isn’t the John Bull that new paper published only this year by Theodore Hook?” Josephine gave a condescending laugh. “My God, I am surprised that even you are fool enough to believe anything printed in disreputable paper like the Bull. Only the most uncouth of persons reads such a paper.” Which meant a great many in Society.

“The Bull is a perfectly respectable paper,” Lady Evers shot back. “They publish parliamentary reports.”

“Putting a dress on a sow does not make it a lady,” Josephine gave her a cold look. “I thought you were cut above that. It seems I was wrong.”

Lady Evers drew a sharp breath. “How dare you?” A malicious gleam lit her eyes. “My father arrived with the paper from London just this afternoon. I wager Lady Beecham has yet to learn the truth. I feel it is my duty to seek her out and inform her that you are not who you pretend to be. She will not appreciate a person such as you being in her home.”

Josephine felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Breathe, she couldn’t breathe. The Bull wasn’t the Times, but that wouldn’t stop people from believing the story.

“Is something wrong?” a familiar male voice said.

Jo snapped her head in Nicholas’ direction. Ladies Evers whirled. Miss Henley, Jo realized, had melted into the crowd.

Lady Evers looked as if she might bolt.

“Lady Evers has accused you of murder, my lord.”

Nicholas lifted a brow. “Surely, there is some mistake, Lady Evers? I cannot believe you would make that kind of mistake.” His voice was low, but the menace was unmistakable.

“Oh, but she has,” Jo pressed, her fury amplified by terror. “She has read some drivel in the John Bull written by a solicitor, who did you say, Lady Evers—” Josephine’s mind raced “—James Stuart?” She looked at Nick. “I have not heard of him, my lord, have you? He was supposedly Lord Wylst’s solicitor.”

“I can’t say that I have heard of him,” Nick replied.

“Then he cannot be anyone of consequence,” Josephine said. “Yet, Lady Evers puts the greatest stock in his word, and she is impressed by the fact that some letter Lord Wylst wrote has been printed in the Bull. Can you imagine?”

“No,” he said. “I cannot. I wonder that Harris lets you read that paper.”

“My husband does not censor what I read,” she snapped.

“Perhaps he should,” Nicholas said “Particularly since he might find himself defending what you repeat.”

Her face paled.

“But I feel certain we can avoid that—so long as you are careful not to repeat any more dangerous gossip,” Nicholas said.

Anger flashed in her eyes, but she nodded and said through tight lips, “Of course, Lord Grayson. Please forgive me.”

He canted his head in acknowledgement and she hurried away.