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“It’s true, what you say. I lie all the time, and I get paid for it, too,” Mrs. Emerson said smugly.

“That’s quite interesting to hear,” a voice suddenly said.

Mrs. Emerson froze at the sound, and she could feel herself shaking in her shoes when Jenny gasped, “Milady!”

Please let it be Ms. Camilla—-

But all her hopes were crushed when the next person to appear by the doorway of Mary’s bedroom was instead the Dowager Duchess of Flanders, and behind the lady was her husband, Warren Wellesley.

“I...I...” She couldn’t think of any excuse to explain the pearls in her hands or the words she had just foolishly spoken to Jenny.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Emerson.”

It was a very gentle voice. But somehow, the gentleness was what made Alyssa Wellesley’s voice even more frightening, and Mrs. Emerson began to wail in earnest.

“Poor woman.”

Mrs. Emerson wailed more loudly. It was like having a beautiful witch talk to her even while she was being eyed like she was about to be the witch’s next meal.

“P-please d-don’t send me to jail.” Mrs. Emerson threw herself down on her knees. She tried to wrap her arms around the dowager duchess’ legs, but it was suddenly the former duke standing in front of her.

Shock caused Mrs. Emerson to lose her balance and fall back, legs up in the air.

Outside the room but able to see it all, Jenny quickly covered her mouth to smother a laugh. She knew it was impolite to laugh at her elders, but this time she hoped God would forgive her for doing so. Surely this was proper justice, for all the abuse they had suffered under Mrs. Emerson’s authority?

When Mrs. Emerson opened her eyes, it was to see Alyssa’s beautiful, merciless face looking down on her. It was enough to set her crying again.

“Enough.”

Mrs. Emerson quickly shut up.

“Now. My husband and I have heard more than enough to have you persecuted. I may consider a more lenient punishment if you were to answer me quickly and honestly.”

“Anything,” Mrs. Emerson swore zealously as she forced herself up. It took a lot of effort, and by the time she was up, she was tired, only able to remain seated upright on the floor.

Alyssa glanced at her husband before asking quietly, “Is Wilson Daughtry in league with his daughter with whatever she’s planning?”

“It’s all his plan, milady.”

Warren bit out, “If I find out you’re lying—-”

Mrs. Emerson shook her head profusely. “No, milord. It’s all true.” She took out her phone from her pocket and thrust it to the former duke’s hand. “It’s all in there. You’ll see, I get texts from Miss Camilla and Mr. Daughtry, too.”

Taking it like he had just been handed a snake that could bite him anytime, Warren slowly scanned the messages.

A disappointing sense of betrayal threatened to crush him when he saw Wilson’s number, which he had long memorized in case of emergency.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Alyssa knew just by seeing her husband’s drawn face that he had realized the same truth she had known long ago. “If it’s any consolation,” she said softly, “I think he’s just crazily convinced his daughterdeservesto be Rathe’s wife and he deserves to have a duke for an in-law.”

Warren shook his head.

“You don’t agree?” Alyssa asked.

“No. It’s not that.” Lines of worry appeared on Warren’s forehead as he met his wife’s gaze. “We must contact Rathe right away.” He handed the housekeeper’s phone to Alyssa. “I just read Camilla’s last text. It seems she’s somehow convinced Rathe to enter into a fake engagement with her. We must find a way to stop it before Rathe ends up breaking Mary’s heart for no reason.”


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