The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (27 page)

“What?” Poor Harry’s mouth was agape. “Sybil said you were an accomplice. That you were working with us.”

“Shall we bring this interrogation home, my love?” Logan asked his wife. “Before we are interrupted?”

Arabella smiled. “Excellent idea. I believe Harry will be happy to answer our questions. Will you not?”

She twisted the blade into his throat. Though Arabella had no intention of harming Harry, the man need not know that piece of information. Therefore, Bella gave her best performance to date, of a woman so angry, so unstable, that she would stab a stranger who accused her of her sister’s vile actions.

Harry seemed convinced. After swallowing hard, he managed to croak, “Yes, I will.”

They departed the opera house during the first act and, by the time they ascended the steps into their coach, Harry had already begun talking. One menacing glare intermingled with a snarl was all it took for Logan to coerce the man to reveal all he knew.

Harry recounted that the Duke’s valet had a penchant for drinking and revealed to Harry during one such late night stupor that the Duke hid currency and jewels in his mattress.

At that time, Harry wasn’t Sybil’s accomplice. He was her informer, one of her many spies. He had never even met her, delivering his bits of information to a hat store in London.

Though Harry had never before seen his information printed in the
Tales of the Ton,
Harry did receive small payments via the hat shop. That is how it worked. If you supplied gossip that was of use, you would receive payment.

“I never expected Sybil to seek me out or offer me the deal. All I had to do was provide information about the Lord’s household and she would split the profits with me.” Harry raked his hands through his hair until the brown mass of waves spiked upwards, making him appear mad. “I never expected my Lord would be stabbed.”

“How did that occur?” Logan asked.

“Ara– er, Sybil used her charms on the widowed Duke to seduce him. He took her to his suite late one night,” Harry clenched his hands into tight fists, then unclenched them, only to repeat the process. “When I heard the screams, I was the first to enter the room. He was unconscious and there was blood covering the sheets and bedding. My Lord was unconscious.”

He turned to Arabella. “She said she was you. That you were accustomed to heavy sleepers. I had no idea that my Lord was anything but, nor did I know that Lord Lawrence suffered from bouts of paranoia and slept with a blade under his pillow.”

“Why would you believe that she was me?” the words escaped Bella’s lips before she could stop them.

She suspected the answer long before Harry responded, his tone dumbstruck. “She was good at it.”

He offered her a look of pity.

Arabella turned to Logan, noting that his jaw was clenched so tightly that it caused her pain to witness it.

The carriage swayed, and Bella peered out the window, quickly coming to the realization that they were headed in the opposite direction of their townhome.

Home …

“We are returning to Winterthorne?” she asked.

Logan had not taken his eyes off Harry.

He would not, not until he was certain that Harry didn’t pose a threat.

Logan tugged at his cravat, which had been suffocating him all night. Eager to make the bloody thing useful, he tied the fine silk around Harry’s wrists, which remained on the man’s lap.

“What are you doing?” Harry struggled to free himself to no avail. Logan was more powerful and Harry’s wrists were tied with ease. “Where are you taking me?”

“To my estate, on the outskirts of nowhere,” Logan reclaimed his seat beside his wife. “Returning to our London townhome isn’t safe. Far from it, in fact. I half expect nobles with pitchforks and torches to march towards our stoop and overpower the staff by midnight. Only my estate offers my wife and me the protection we seek, the protection we require, due in part to your complacency with Sybil’s scheme.”

“I- I’m- I’m sorry,” Harry muttered. “I won’t say a word. Please just let me go.”

Leaning forward, Logan felt sorry for the poor chap.

In over his head.

Too daft to see it.

“I cannot release you, mate. It is for your own good as well as ours.” Logan rested against the velvet squabs of the coach, taking Arabella’s hand in his. Squeezing it in an offer of comfort. “You must see that you are no safer than we are? You are a loose end for Sybil. Look how she deftly handled my wife tonight. It is just a matter of time before Sybil comes after you, as well.”

Beads of perspiration broke out on Harry’s forehead. “I want no part of this.”

“It is too late, mate. You are the only witness of whom I am aware that can attest to Sybil’s misdeeds, including her compromising of my wife. If you think I will allow you to disappear or die—”

“Die? Who said I will die?” Harry’s voice rose an octave.

“Surely you don’t think Sybil will allow you to live?” Arabella interjected. “You know far too much. Like it or not, we are your only form of protection.”

Harry gulped audibly, as several beads of perspiration dripped into his eyes. He blinked, his wide gaze darting from Logan to Arabella and back again in quick succession. At last, he slumped his shoulders, spending the remainder of the carriage ride in a silent state of acceptance.

The ride was long, but their horses were swift. The only disturbance came when Logan’s guards joined them, in three carriages.

Arabella studied her husband. “You planned this?”

“Of course, my love,” Logan caressed her cheek. Colin, Tristan and I knew we must be prepared for anything. Each of us had our own responsibilities. “It was Tristan’s job to dispatch my guards and get Victoria and Eve to safety. They are probably settled behind the gates of Kellington Manor now, reunited with their children, Fiona, and the Duke and Duchess of Davenport.”

“What of Colin?” Bella’s timbre shook.

Logan grinned. “He is safe and will join us in a day or two.”

Everyone had their responsibilities.

Logan’s was to keep his wife and witness safe then await word that his friends, all of them, were also out of harm’s way.

Restlessness crept up his legs. It was all he could do to force himself to sit still. Logan couldn’t relax.

Wouldn’t.

Until he knew no one had been harmed tonight.

By the time the Ambrose carriage passed the massive gates of Winterthorne, Harry was relieved to be locked in a guest suite under the protection of his own imposing guard posted outside his door. Add to that the massive gates and security detail under Logan’s employ and Harry had become downright giddy.

The trip had done Harry a world of good for, somewhere between London and Northamptonshire, he realized what danger he was in and the extents to which Sybil would go to protect her intricate ruse.

What he underestimated were the extents to which Logan would go to protect his bride. If Harry was coincidentally harmed, so be it. The man brought this on himself. He was a willing participant in Sybil’s treachery.

Arabella was innocent.

Logan would see his wife’s name cleared first, then worry about any harm coming to unlucky Harry.

Upon entering his suite, Logan’s gaze was immediately drawn to his wife standing in front of the windows. She had undressed with the help of her maid. No longer clad in her luminous amethyst gown, she instead wore a sheer shift that was all but transparent as she stood, bathed in the opaque hue of the moonlight.

Her honey-colored curls cascaded over her shoulder and back like liquid gold. Bella was ethereal, breathtaking and so lost in thought that she didn’t seem to hear him enter.

She studied the card they each had received at the opera.

He strode towards her, and Bella read aloud, “A soprano’s sister has been wicked, thieving while none was the wiser. Shall we guess what sin she will commit next, once the noose gets tighter? Someone has blood on their hands but whose? Like springtime daisies ending the winter pall; there will be more to follow, for I know all…”

Lacing his fingers in her curls, Logan moved her tresses to her right shoulder before resting his cheek against the smooth flesh of her bare neck.

“Daisies … she refers to our wedding so many years ago,” Arabella leaned against his length.

Logan kissed her neck, her scent lingering as it always did. An intimacy he would never tire of, no matter how long he lived. “She is taunting us. That is what she does.”

“I have remembered more,” Bella tossed the card aside. “My sister was always watching, listening, and waiting for whatever she could use to her advantage. She had big dreams, large schemes, and longed for everyone to know who she was. With this latest intrigue, she ridiculed the
haut ton
, did she not? From what Victoria said, this is not the same gossip rag as before. I take it that Sybil used the information she garnered to frighten someone into paying for her silence.”

“I believe you are right. I also suspect that the jewel heist we are privy to was not Sybil’s first, just the first that shed blood. My bet is that most nobles she stole from failed to strike back.” Logan kissed the nape of her neck.

“I can picture my sister now. Waiting in the wings, watching the crowd while cultivating their scandalous secrets. A glance exchanged between a Duke and a Countess perchance, while their spouses remained blissfully unaware—”

“Or not. Many marriages are based upon convenience, not love.” Logan reminded her.

“But not ours,” Arabella rounded on Logan, splaying her hands on his waist. Though clothed in his trousers and shirt, her touch still sent a jolt of excitement through to his very core.

Logan kissed her forehead. “Never ours.”

“Sybil’s accomplice, her true accomplice is the composer from tonight. Faustino Beniamino. He was there when she left me for dead.” Bella shook her head. “If only I remembered more … if only my memory hadn’t been compromised, I could have predicted this.”

One tear, followed by another, drifted down her cheek. She was beginning to crumble under the weight of her memories and so much that still hadn’t surfaced.

“Shush,” Logan kissed each salty tear from her cheeks. His tongue then trailed upwards, where he kissed each of her closed eyelids. “It isn’t your fault.

“We know so little. For instance, how many accomplices does Sybil have? How did Sybil convince them that she was me, that I took part in any of this?” Bella began to shake.

“I will not allow her to get the better of us again,” Logan looped his fingers behind his wife’s neck. “I swear to you, this is the last time she will fool us. I am onto her now, and we have all of my assets, including Colin behind us. We will expose Sybil and her benefactor, we will clear your name … I will protect you.”

Logan sensed that his bride needed more than words on this night so that is what he provided her. He kissed her with a passion that could not be denied, held her with a quiet strength that she could never doubt, caressed her with a gentle yet possessive touch … one meant to convey how much he loved her and what he was willing to do to safeguard her.

Only after Logan was certain that his wife felt loved, adored and safe, did he bring her to the earth-shattering climax she sought.

Sated in his arms, Bella whispered, “I love you.”

Three small words that meant more to him than any other. Because they were from Bella, heartfelt and romantic.

The epitome of his wife.

If only Arabella had stopped there.

“I won’t allow Sybil to destroy us – not this time, Logan,” she met her husband’s gaze, her hazel eyes illuminated with specs of gold – fire, representing her thirst for revenge. “I will do whatever I must to protect us from her. I won’t hesitate to kill her.”

Sybil had robbed Bella of so much. Logan couldn’t – no wouldn’t abide Sybil Sutton stealing her sister’s innocence.

Arabella possessed a desire to see goodness in people. It was a strength Logan himself never possessed. He refused to sit idly by while Sybil robbed Bella of this exquisite gift.

Sybil Sutton had taken far too much from her sister.

Logan must put a stop to it, once and for all.