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The soft bell-like voice belonged to a beautiful young woman dressed in the finest blue silk, her brunette hair in a single side braid underneath her hat, her face white, and her lips bright pink. She wore a set of pearls around her neck, and in her arms carried a small pug dog.
“My dear, are you finished?” Fitzwilliam smiled at the woman.
She sighed heavily. “Yes, I could not find much, but I am very pleasantly surprised at the standard of the town shops. It is better than I assumed.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed her purchases being taken to the dowager’s carriage.
“Did I not tell you Everely was unmatched, my dear? Look, even the duchess is found here.” Fitzwilliam snickered and brought her forward. “Your Grace, allow me to introduce my wife, Miss Marcella Wildingham—pardon me, I am not yet used to it, I mean Mrs. Marcella Topwells now.”
“Your Grace?” the girl gasped and then curtsied before me. “Forgive me, for I did not expect to see you, nor did I see a carriage.”
The girl was a little young to be a wife, younger than Hathor, and dare I say, perhaps even closer to Devana’s age.
“I thought it better to walk,” I finally managed.
“A walk? You jest, but what of your clothing?” She laughed and looked down at my hem, but she contained herself. “No matter, I am sure you have plenty. It is truly an honor to meet you. We never crossed paths while you were in London for the season.”
I tried to contain my shock. “You were out this season as well?”
“I…”
“Verity, you are awfully quiet,” Fitzwilliam interrupted, shifting our attention to Verity, who stood still just beside me. “Marcella, this is Lady Verity, the duke’s younger sister.”
“Hello, my lady.” Marcella happily curtsied once more.
“Hello, Mrs. Topwells. We ought not to keep you, as I see the dowager is waiting for you, Fitzwilliam.” Verity spoke softly next to me. “One cannot keep the dowager waiting.”
“You are correct. I shall see you, Lady Everely, Lady Verity.” He tilted his head to us both before leading his wife away.
“How did this happen?” Verity whispered as we watched him go. “The Wildingham family is one of the wealthiest in the land. Mr. Wildingham has only one daughter, Marcella, and she is not yet sixteen.”
Immediately, the words of the great Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca the Younger came to mind. The tempest threatens before it comes; houses creak before they fall.
Evander
“I should have known!”
The signs were there. What had brought Fitzwilliam to London at the same time as me when he knew I searched for him? How had his mother been able to so finely decorate herself in jewels and the like? The allowance I provided her was only to keep her from utter destitution, not enough for diamond-encrusted canes or strings of pearls. The purchase of a home should also have been out of the question, yet she had managed it. I assumed it had been from funds she’d succeeded in stealing away from my father over their years together. The greatest sign of all should have been her confidence in returning to Everely. I dismissed it because Datura had always been brazen.
Now I was torn between screaming and falling silent. For how could one man and his mother be so difficult to bring to justice?
“I do not know this Wildingham family. I do not wish to press, but is it so severe? Obviously, beyond the poor girl’s age, though it is not all that uncommon.” Aphrodite asked quietly as I paced before her in the drawing room.
Verity and Emeline had gone to change while Aphrodite explained what had occurred in town. I could tell she was trying to be patient because she was sitting awfully still, the way she had whenever her mama and papa were discussing something and she was forced to be a good young lady.
I was not her mama or papa.
“Mr. Unwin Wildingham is a powerful and very wealthy landowner in the county, part of the gentry. Once hailed to be the very best of marksmen in all the county. He had two children, but his son died young along with his wife, leaving only him and his daughter, Marcella. She is to inherit his home, along with a substantial dowry. That is not the worst of it. The rest of the estate and fortunes will go to Mr. Wildingham’s cousin, who happens to be Sir Zachary Dennison-Whit.”
“Is that not…”
“The county’s MP, who is also the rumored right hand of the prime minister? Yes, my love, it is. Fitzwilliam disappeared and has turned up with a very powerful backer. I doubt I will be able to simply capture him and throw him in prison now, even with the evidence I have collected. The local magistrate is also friends with the Wildinghams.”
“But you are the duke. Surely, you are of greater importance?”
“Yes, surely. Even still, it will take much stronger evidence than what I have to bring him down as his fate is now intertwined with the Wildinghams’, and they will fight before allowing such embarrassment to their name.”
“That very well may be true, but you must not be silent. My papa told me that an evildoer who does not repent only continues to do more evil. You must show the magistrate everything you have, your witness also.”
