Page 26 of Mistress of Sins

“I brought Mama home, and went to my room, and much more than that I cannot remember. I tore my wedding gown to shreds and had Mrs. Holloway burn the remains,” she tacked on. “What did you do? Oh, of course, you cannot tell me. It is spy business.”

“I left behind everything I wanted that day.” Greystone hesitated before he added, “Indeed, I think the only pleasure I have felt since I left Renwick was with you in the hot house tonight.”

She turned her back on him. “Do not remind me of how shamelessly I behaved.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he said softly. “The blame is mine. I seduced you.”

“Given how practiced you are at such endeavors, I should not disagree, but we both wished it to happen.” Jennet rubbed her eyes. “I knew you would be here tonight. I knew I should never come. Yet here I am, and now disgraced again. No matter what I do, it seems to be my fate.”

Greystone smiled a little. “Was it so terrible to make love with me, Jenny?”

Answering that would require honesty on her part that she had no intention of offering to him. “Being an unmarried lady, I have nothing to compare to the experience.”

“I regret that I hurt you. I had thought…” He stopped and sighed. “I would not have touched you, had I known it to be your first time with a man.”

How glad she was that only the moon provided light now, for her face felt as if it were flaming—but not with embarrassment.

“You mean that you assumed that I took lovers after you abandoned me?” Jennet demanded, newly outraged. “Or that I married someone else? Well, sir, I did neither thing. I am the same as I was when you left Renwick. Or I was, until this night’s madness.” She rubbed her brow. “I cannot believe I am going to say this, but my mother was right.”

The lock chose at that moment to make an odd, metallic screech, and the door creaked as it swung inward. Greystone opened and held it as he peered through the gap, and then turned to her.

“You must not make a sound,” he warned.

Chapter 15

After returning to the parsonage, Deidre Branwen retreated to her dressing room to remove her shepherdess costume and don her nightdress. She did so with relief, for she had never liked pretense of any sort. She also felt deeply disquieted by their visit to Dredthorne Hall. Jeffrey had claimed it perfect, as it had been years since anyone had come to harm there, and that was likely true. Still, from the moment they had entered the old house Deidre had felt very nervous. For all the lamps and candles, too many shadows filled the rooms, as if shades of those who had died there lurked in the corners, watching for the next lost soul to join them.

“You are being mutton-headed again,” Deidre told her reflection.

As she brushed out and braided her hair, she expected to hear Jeffrey enter their bed chamber to begin his nightly ablutions, but the adjoining room remained oddly quiet. Her husband had been equally silent during their carriage ride home from Dredthorne Hall, his expression distant as he stared out the window.

Something had happened during the brief time when he had left her in the ball room, Deidre suspected. Whatever that was, he had also brought it home with him.

Quickly she washed her face before going in search of him. Their sitting room remained dark, as did the kitchen, so she went down the hall to Jeffrey’s study. He had left the door open, yet when she looked in he was not sitting at his desk. Instead he stood before the portrait of Thomas More, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the martyr.

“Do not leave, my dear,” Jeffrey said when Deidre would have crept away. “I had hoped gazing upon Saint Thomas would provide me with some solace, but that silly scholar’s cap he wears continues to distract me.”

His attempt at humor did not mask the agitation in his voice, which drew her to his side. She tucked her hand in his as she studied the painting of his personal hero. Jeffrey never dwelled on the man’s persecution of Protestants, which she personally considered a ghastly business. Yet he had been a man of his time, and his religious conviction could not be denied. He had refused to abandon his beliefs, and had sacrificed his life for his faith.

“It is his nose for me,” Deidre said. “Very large, I must say. That ridge between his brows, just above the bridge, my father had one of those from frowning excessively. What has upset you, my love?”

“Tonight, I spoke to William Gerard.” The admission came out of him accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Baron Greystone, I should say. I confronted him about his behavior toward Miss Reed, lost my temper and threatened to do him bodily harm. I think if he had said the wrong thing to me, I would have.”

“My dear, that was so long ago,” she couldn’t help reminding him. “What good does it now to chastise the man?”

“I witnessed William compromising Jennet tonight.” Jeffrey rubbed his brow. “I did not wish to. It was purely by accident that I did. From what I saw she welcomed his attentions, and his were quite enthusiastic. I daresay they still love each other. Yet later I found him in the stables with a saddled horse behind him. I believe he means to abandon her again.”

“How awful.” Deidre recalled the light pink marks she had seen on Jennet’s neck and cheek in the ball room; the unmistakable signs left by a passionate embrace. “Do you imagine she may have, ah, sprained her ankle?”

They often used such euphemisms for the most intimate of situations; that was their reference for a lady who had gotten with child out of wedlock.

“I cannot tell you now, but by next summer we should know.” He made a disgusted sound. “I am angrier with myself than anyone. I should have put a stop to it, and taken her from that rogue.” He gestured toward the portrait. “As Saint Thomas believed, qui tacet consentire videtur, one who does nothing may as well consent.”

“If that is your thinking, then you would be complicit in every wrong done in this parish, I should think.” Deidre slipped her arm around his waist. “My darling husband, you truly are the shepherd here in Renwick.”

He nodded. “A poor one when the flock wishes to run amok, which seems to be happening more frequently, the older I grow.”

“Is that really any different from every day?” She knew he blamed himself when his parishioners failed to follow his counsel. “Your duty is to guide with faith, and console with love. The rest you must leave in God’s hands, no matter how difficult that is.”