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Mark shook his head. “No. But some people are. The new earl is not giving up on the idea that either she poisoned her husband or had him poisoned. He has insisted that Bow Street look into it in more detail. There is an inspector, one Hiram Lewis, who has been poking into every corner of the woman’s life.”
“Why would Crewood even care? The woman inherited so little she is almost penniless.”
“More rumors, my brother. Including a trust bequeathed to her by her grandfather—”
“Nonsense. Francis Montague died bankrupt a few weeks after Crewood.”
“The trust decreed that Lady Crewood would not inherit until she was thirty. Untouchable till then, even by her father. Apparently, Grandfather did not trust Montague, since his gambling became so detrimental. If Crewood had lived, he would take control of it when she inherited. But as a widow, Lady Crewood will be able to do as she wishes with it.” Mark fell silent, waiting.
Matthew understood immediately, including her comment to the Lyon about turning thirty. “But if she hangs for murder, the money will go directly to her next of kin.”
“Who is currently the latest Earl of Crewood.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“According to rumor, almost fifty thousand pounds.”
The number was like a slap to the jaw. “Definitely enough to kill over.”
Mark’s mouth jerked. “Her or him?”
“Do not be an arse. That lady is strong-willed with a fierce sense of determination, but she does not have the spirit of a killer. I would sooner believe our mother could kill.”
Mark watched him a few moments, until Matthew grew agitated. “What is it?”
“You said the first bann will be read tomorrow.”
“What of it?”
“Once you marry her, you would take control of the money upon its receipt. No matter what Bow Street discovers, there is no possible way they could arrest and convict her before your marriage. Once they hear this, they will want to stop this marriage any way they can. Watch your back, big brother, because I have absolutely no interest in becoming the Duke of Embleton.”
Saturday, 23 July 1814
Lady Crewood’s Home
Half past nine in the evening
Sarah watched hermaid in the mirror as Reid brushed tangles from the long strands of her dark auburn hair. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, Reid had been unusually quiet since the duke had left—in fact, the entire house had been oddly silent.
Sarah could stand it no longer. “Will you please ask your questions? I know they must have talked downstairs. This silence is beyond distracting.”
Reid shook her head once. “I am not sure what you mean, my lady.” She continued to focus on the brushing.
Sarah let out a frustrated huff. “All right. I will speak even if you do not.”
“I am sure it is none of my concern, my lady.”
Twisting on the low stool in front of the dressing table, Sarah yanked her hair away from the maid. “Do stop being so obstinate, Reid. I did not agree to this in order to bring upheaval to this house.” She gripped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “The truth is, I had no choice.”
Reid stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon. She owns the mortgage on this house.”
“But... I thought she had only loaned you a small amount—”
“She did. Then she bought the mortgage from the bank. She was the one who had convinced them to give me the mortgage in the first place. She told me she would give me two years to either pay it off or put myself up for marriage. We both knew that in two years, I would have the trust my father set up for me, and I could pay off everything. I thought she knew I did not want to marry again. But the duke’s offer to her was apparently more temptation than she could bear.”
“She changed her mind.”
