Page 30 of Mistress of Darkness

Chapter 14

Although their meal consisted of cold cured ham, cheddar cheese and bread again, Gwen wouldn’t complain. It’d been a stellar day so far. She’d managed to convince Robert that indeed someone had set the fire, and then likely taken the candle with them through the new secret passage. Though she’d probably never convince him that it could have been Parks, that fact seemed obvious to her. But what she couldn’t puzzle out was why. What would the valet have to gain? If he wanted to steal, there was every opportunity. Certainly he could never inherit.

Inheritance, she thought. There was something about that notion that bothered her. She took another bite of her ham before it occurred to her.

“Robert, do you still have that earring?” He seemed lost in thought and she realized that, while she’d eaten nearly all her food, most of his was untouched. “Robert?”

“What?” he said, looking at her. “Oh yes, of course.” He produced it from his waistcoat pocket. “Here it is.”

She examined the exquisite jewelry in a new light, particularly the different colored diamonds. She was quite sure her conclusion was right. “It belonged to Miss Wilson.”

He stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Too many diamonds,” she said. “Look at it. It’s not just an earring, it’s a statement. Remember that there must have been another one to match it as well, and likely some sort of necklace or pendant too.” She set it on the table between them. “Mrs. Thorne impresses me as a more serious woman. Not only that, she had all of this.” She looked around the living room. “She had Dredthorne Hall and possibly an inheritance or dowry of her own. But a courtesan who lived on the kindness of her paramours? This would be her only support, her only form of security.”

He regarded her solemnly. “One can hardly refute your logic, dear Gwen.” But when she thought he might take her hand, or congratulate her, he looked back at his plate.

“So,” she said in a teasing tone, trying to lighten his mood, “it would seem you’ve had a courtesan in your bedchamber, Mr. Sheraton. Would you care to explain?”

He set down his fork and knife. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m afraid you must leave.”

If he’d told her that the moon was made of green cheese, she couldn’t have been more thunderstruck. “I don’t understand,” was all she could think to say.

“I should have made you leave when Frances died, or when my chair legs were sawed through, or when the chandelier fell. Now we find that this damnable hall could be riddled through with secret passages. I cannot safeguard you under these circumstances. So I must ask you to leave.”

“But after everything we’ve been through together,” she said, trying to keep the pleading tone out of her voice, but not succeeding. “After everything we mean to each other. How can you–”

“That is precisely why, my dearest Gwen.” He took her hand in both of his. “I cannot in good conscience keep you with me, though I desire it more than anything in the world.”

She took her hand back. “Well certainly I have some say in it,” she declared. “I am not to be–”

“No, Gwen,” he said, standing. “You do not have a say in it. Please pack your trunks. I’ll let Parks know.”

With that he stalked off, and Gwen knew from the stiff set of his shoulders and his pounding footsteps, that he meant every word. More than that, she knew he would not be moved by anything she could say—because he was right.