The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (35 page)

In doing so, Sybil’s own words would destroy her.

Fitting,
Bella thought.

Sybil Sutton was quite the actress, a woman who loved to pretend to be others, who loved to hide her true self. Given all of that, she had deprived herself of taking credit for her actions.

All those years, all of those misdeeds.

Yet, Sybil had become lazy, or was now led by a desperate need to be seen. No longer in the wings, she had finally taken credit for her actions.

Her admissions would be her undoing.

The consummate performer had said too much.

Perhaps Sybil should have stuck to the scripts she was provided?

T
he night of the ball arrived on an unusually balmy autumn evening. The skies were clear, illuminating the full moon, which had been part of Logan’s meticulous plan.

Yes, he had mapped out every elaborate detail, down to the light of the full moon illuminating the grand terrace, the number of sconces, and the dual orchestras playing both in the ballroom and on the terrace.

They would drown out their group’s private conversations. They would also allow Sybil to be led into the catacombs without Victoria ever saying a word. As would the loud and luminous display of fireworks around the lake at precisely the time that Arabella and Victoria would switch places.

It would be quite the spectacle.

Everyone had a part to play.

Logan studied his pocket watch as he leaned against the mantel above the glowing hearth in the small library connecting his bedchamber to his bride’s. The cozy space had become their private paradise, one in which they spent their evenings reading by the hearth. Arabella had brought her favorite books from the larger downstairs library and rearranged the shelves.

Turning towards the velvet settee, Logan admired a large stack of books Arabella had placed on the side table this morning. He skimmed the titles. A great deal of poetry and Shakespeare – light reading for his wife, Logan noted with a grin.

“I thought we could begin those tonight,” Arabella stood in the center of the room, her golden locks pinned in loose tendrils atop her head.

Logan’s breath hitched in his throat, the sight of his Bella causing his lungs to constrict.

She was spellbinding, her porcelain complexion accentuated with cheeks the soft pink of a summer rose, her heart-shaped lips upturned into a radiant smile. Swathed in a garnet and white concoction, she resembled royalty.

His Queen.

Her bodice and sleeves were a deep crimson, as were her gloves, while her skirts were made of a gauzy white fabric, resembling crisp clouds, that danced about her long legs as she walked towards him. Red and white roses accentuated her waist.

“As per your request, the gown is two shades, so I shall blend in with Victoria’s ivory gown,” Bella twirled. “Once we don our capes and hoods, no one will be able to tell the difference between us.”

“I will,” Logan stood, bridging the distance between them. “I always will.”

Arabella caressed his cheek with her gloved hand. “Aren’t I fortunate?”

Tracing her necklace with his thumb and forefinger, Logan’s hand clasped her locket, which rested just above the hollow of her ever-expanding bodice, reminding him of her pregnancy and the subtle transformations that only he had seen. Intimate and causing his adoration for her to increase ten-fold. “I am the lucky one. You have captivated me from the day we met. I am under your spell. Now and always.”

“So, you approve?” she teased, her radiant amber gaze holding his.

Logan kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, my love. You will dazzle everyone in attendance this evening.”

Clutching his lapel, Bella beseeched him. “Please reassure me that this plan will work.”

“It will,” he assured her, his baritone strong and convincing, though Logan was uncertain who he was attempting to persuade … his bride or himself.

Tonight came down to timing.

All of the moving parts to his plan, the moving gears if you will, were set to proceed like a stage production. All actions had been choreographed and practiced to precision on multiple occasions. Their group had done numerous walk-throughs complete with variations, predicting the possibilities of something going awry.

Still, much could go wrong and nothing was foolproof.

“Whatever happens tonight, I will protect you,” Logan placed his hand above his wife’s abdomen.

She would understand.

I will protect both of you.

Arabella placed her palm over his. Together they stood, motionless, for several long moments.

Studying her husband’s bold features, Bella noted that his eyes were darker tonight, the black of a raven’s coat. His pupils were almost undiscernible. He looked menacing, a force to be reckoned with.

Which he was.

Bella loved him all the more for it.

“We shall protect each other,” she countered. “We shall ensure our future, our child’s future. Together.”

Logan’s lips brushed against hers, his gentle kiss in stark contrast to his formidable appearance. This surprised her not, for she knew the man beyond the scars, beyond the menacing façade. Only Bella knew the real man, the kind, passionate, and protective man Logan truly was.

“You are extraordinary,” she said when their lips parted.

Her husband placed his forehead against hers as he checked the time. “We must proceed downstairs to the ballroom. Do you have any questions, any concerns that you would like to address one last time?”

Arabella wrung her hands. Out of the many trepidations that plagued her, one stood out. “You surveyed everything before our guests arrived. Did you make sure Adolphus is in place?”

“I did and he is,” Logan caressed her cheek. “We shall both be watching over you tonight.”

“Be prepared for anything. My sister was humiliated with the
Tattler’s
reports. She will seek retribution.” Bella’s pulse quickened, pounding hard against her temples.

Arthur had reported everything Arabella had communicated to him, highlighting every transgression that Sybil had committed – at least the ones of which Bella was aware. He preyed on Sybil’s thirst for acceptance, for recognition, for success.

He had revealed much.

Perhaps too much?

“I fear we went too far to lure her here,” Arabella inhaled a deep, ragged breath. “She will want vengeance. Especially after Faustino Beniamino abandoned her, after Arthur publicly named him as her co-conspirator. Sybil lost everything when Faustino denounced her before fleeing the country.”

Logan wrapped his arms around her, enfolding his wife in his solid embrace. “I know. As we discussed, hold on to your fan and don’t hesitate to use it.”

Her fan … from the opera. With the silver file in the handle. Though Arabella had prepared for this, her chest constricted at the thought of doing bodily harm to Sybil, even in self-defense.

Silly, really, since Arabella was practical when it came to the woman she once considered to be her sister. She understood that Sybil left her no choice – it was either Arabella or Sybil.

Both would not survive this night unscathed.

Sybil had seen to that when she fabricated evidence ensuring that Bella would be blamed for Sybil’s crimes.

Sybil showed no remorse when she left her to die.

Swallowing against the lump of realization that formed in her throat, Arabella whispered. “I will do what I must. I will protect us.”

Us.

Their baby was in danger and Arabella refused to allow Sybil to hurt their child. No, she would use whatever force she must, even if it meant stabbing Sybil with that blade, to save her child.

Sybil had created this deadly game of deception. She had cultivated her own enemies; she had sent them after Bella.

Yes, Sybil was evil.

She possessed no conscience, only greed. No compassion, no devotion to anyone but herself. Sybil was like a plague, afflicting all who wandered onto her path. She attacked silently, methodically consuming her victims until they were shadows of their former selves, if they survived at all.

Sybil left pieces in her wake. Pieces of souls, broken lives, jagged edges of formerly solid reputations. She left bodies in her wake, bloody victims such as Lord Lawrence.

“This ends tonight,” Arabella’s tone was solid, her countenance stony. “We will end her reign of terror tonight.”

No more doubts.

No more self-recriminations.

Arabella would do what she must.

Still, anxiety took root around Bella’s heart, encircling it like spindly vines, coiling until her chest ached.

Be prepared for anything
, she reminded herself.

Knowing what Sybil was capable of caused the invisible vines to tighten, until Arabella couldn’t breathe.

Inhaling a raspy breath, she counted to ten. In that long moment, all of the ways Sybil could surprise them flashed through her brain.

Bella’s intuition warned that Sybil would attack first this evening. Where and when remained a mystery.

One that Arabella feared uncovering.

After they had greeted each of the arriving guests, Logan escorted his bride down the grand staircase into their ballroom, which was resplendent with thousands of candles flickering, illuminating the room in an ethereal glow.

Arabella glanced upwards, at the dazzling chandeliers, her eyes surveying the room. Though it was the same ballroom she had spent hours in, she had never before seen it at night, in all its splendor.

When they reached the bottom stair, Bella turned to Logan. “This view is breathtaking.”

“So is mine,” he winked at her.

He referred to his bride and she understood, the full impact of his statement causing a pink tinge to sweep across her cheeks.

Logan kissed her hand. “Shall we, Mrs. Ambrose?”

“Let’s,” she replied as they walked arm in arm, taking a turn about the room.

It failed to escape Logan that his bride’s smile never met her eyes, or that her hand trembled as they took to the center of the room for their first dance.

His eyes held hers, a silent show of support as the orchestra began its sweeping tune. Logan surveyed the room for any sign of Sybil, for anything out of the ordinary, but could find nothing erroneous.

Certain that Sybil was in attendance, that Sybil was hiding, Logan was thankful that they had decided against the masquerade. A ball was one thing but Sybil’s ability to hide behind a mask was a risk he refused to take.

After the orchestra had concluded the arrangement Logan had chosen, he bowed while his wife curtsied. With a wave of their hands, their guests were invited to join them.

Once the crowd began to sway in time with the orchestra, Logan ushered Bella to the corner of the room, where they met Colin and Eve.

“Anything?” Colin whispered as a footman offered them a tray of champagne.

Logan refused, which was his prearranged signal to Colin that he had seen nothing amiss His friend followed suit before clapping him on the back and laughing, as if he had just heard the bawdiest of jokes.

“Shall we dance, Wife?” Colin asked Eve, who looked radiant in a gold gown, her tresses glowing like the summer sun.