Chapter 23

RESPONSE TO ACCUSATIONS. The author who has graced this paper over the past week is nothing more than a jealous miscreant intent on disrupting the reputation of a respectable woman who cared for her husband until his dying breath.

Why should we believe a man who makes baseless accusations threaded through with obvious malice and jealousy and provides nothing but his own assurances to back up his claims?

In sum, show us your proof, sir, or still your tongue forever.

Olivia crouched beneath her desk, waiting for the door to open and her adversary to reveal himself. It had been hours and still there was no sign of Mr. Dawson. She dearly hoped it would not be another wasted night. She was growing tired of spending her evenings alone.

She would much rather be in Thel’s bed.

But that was impossible now. He had cut her out of his life two weeks prior without hesitation, choosing to believe in fantasy instead of logic, and she had no one to blame but herself. She had held back the full extent of her feelings against the chance that he shared the same temperament as her former husband, even though everything he had said and done had been proof of the opposite. She’d tried so hard to erase Lord Allen from her mind, but it seemed the damage he’d done was too extensive. He would haunt her for as long as she lived.

She shifted slightly. Her head pounded and her ankles throbbed. Had she been clear enough in her response to encourage Mr. Dawson to act? She was making a huge number of assumptions: that Mr. Dawson would read her response, that he would be provoked enough to act, that he had someone listening inside her household who had passed along her hints.

She touched the bulge in her pocket that held one of the first items she’d procured after her husband’s death.

A muzzle-loaded revolver.

One that she would not hesitate to use on Mr. Dawson if he did not agree to her terms. She no longer cared what happened to her if it meant saving Constance. She would gladly sacrifice what was left of her haunted existence to stop Mr. Dawson from hurting anyone else.

Finally, a sound. A creaking from somewhere in the house.

She tensed.

Another creak, louder and closer. Someone was walking down the hallway. She leaned against the underside of the desk and peered through the small hole she had drilled through it. Mr. Dawson, or whomever he’d sent to do his bidding, would not get past her.

The door opened, inch by inch. A figure stepped inside, holding a candle and wearing a dark-blue servant’s uniform with a hooded cloak that obscured their features.

Walk closer , she thought. She had left the curtains open so that the person would have to step into the light from the streetlamps. She would wait for them to reach for the latch, then walk behind them and press the revolver to their head.

The figure crossed the room on soft feet, and as Olivia had predicted, stepped into the light cast from the window. When Olivia saw the girl’s face, she shot to her feet.

“Willow? What are you doing here?”

The maid squeaked and fumbled for the brass candleholder. Olivia caught it from her before the drapes lit on fire.

“M-My lady,” the maid stammered. “I-I was only…” her lower lip trembled. “I didn’t want to do it. Please don’t report me.”

Olivia sighed. “I won’t.” She couldn’t take her anger out on an innocent girl. Mr. Dawson had bested her again. She reached into her pocket and withdrew several bills, a fraction of what she had gathered to convince Mr. Dawson to leave the country. She pressed them into the maid’s hand. “You will have more when your task is complete.”

The maid’s eyes widened as she clenched her fingers around the bills, which represented several years’ worth of standard wages. She could find a new position or buy a small cottage in the country if she wished. It was a life-changing amount of money, and it had the desired effect.

“What do you wish me to do?” the maid asked.

“Take me to your employer.”

###

Olivia’s carriage rattled up to a familiar house. She was still reeling from the knowledge she’d extracted from the maid, but she could not disassemble until the confrontation was over.

She exhaled a long breath before exiting the carriage, then flipped up the hood on the cloak she had borrowed from Willow and found the rear entrance. Once inside, she shuffled into the kitchen, which was bustling despite the late hour. The clang of dishes and the sound of chopping surrounded her. She kept her head down and walked with purpose until she reached the stairs. She hefted her skirts and climbed until her armpits were damp. Then she walked three doors down and knocked. The door creaked open, and a pale face peered out at her. She did not wait for an invitation but shoved her foot into the crack and pushed inside.

A pale woman cowered beneath a blanket on the large bed on the far side of the room.

It was Thel’s brother’s wife, Lady Felix. Celina Vaith.

“How dare you enter my room?!” Lady Felix shrieked. She threw her blankets off her legs and stood, dressed only in her night rail.

Olivia had her revolver out of her pocket and leveled at Lady Felix before the woman could take another step. The weight of it was reassuring, even as she internally quaked at the knowledge of how much damage it could do. She’d been ready to kill Mr. Dawson, with the certainty that she’d be preventing countless girls from falling into his trap, but she was not sure she could shoot a woman.

Lady Felix’s maid sputtered as she backed into the corner, a flimsy pillow clutched in her hands.

“Leave us,” Lady Felix said.

The girl darted across the room and exited, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“I assume you caught Willow,” Lady Felix said. “Well, if you intend to kill me, do it now before I change my mind.”

There was none of the anger Olivia had expected in her tone. It was as if the enemy she’d been prepared to face was nothing more than a fearsome shadow cast by an otherwise innocuous object.

“Why me?” Olivia asked.

Lady Felix’s eyes grew distant and misty. “Because he loved me, not you.”

The final clue slotted into place. “You were my husband’s mistress.”

Tears dripped down Lady Felix’s cheeks. “He was the most caring man I had ever met. I begged him to leave you. I said I would be happy even if we were poor, as long as we were together. He refused. He said my reputation was more important, and I could not live without it.”

Olivia couldn’t believe they were discussing the same man. Her husband had never done anything without a purpose. Was it simply that he’d shared all his love with his mistress and there’d been nothing left for his wife?

“It was hard enough watching you go about your life for years after he died,” Lady Felix said. “Then you had to go and flaunt your happiness. I couldn’t stand watching you get everything you wanted when I miss the earl with every day that passes.” She walked over to the hearth and pulled out a fire poker, then brandished it. “It’s your fault he’s dead!”

Olivia stumbled back, but it took only a few heartbeats for her to recover. Lady Felix’s arm trembled so badly, she could barely lift the poker. The woman was not a true threat. She was letting her emotions control her, acting more like a young girl than the woman she was.

Olivia put her rifle away and snatched the poker. The other woman gaped, then rushed to her bed and buried her head in the pillows.

Olivia returned the poker to its place, then walked over to sit on the bed. “The man with whom you fell in love was not the same man who married me. I don’t know why you think I killed him, but I assure you he died of consumption.”

Lady Felix shook her head. “He wasn’t sick. I saw him days before he died, and he was as healthy as I’ve ever seen him. It was you who killed him, and once I have proof, everyone will believe me. You won’t get away with what you’ve done.”

Her words were cruel, but the tone she delivered them in was thin, as if she were grasping on to the last thread of her anger. She reminded Olivia of a feral kitten, hissing fiercely and puffing herself up to make herself appear more threatening. Lady Felix was to be pitied, not feared. Like Thel, she’d believed a falsehood.

“The earl did not want anyone to know he was unwell,” Olivia said. She remembered how he had barked commands the morning before he had taken to his bed, how he had shouted at anyone who’d come near. It had driven their housekeeper to tears.

“I saw him,” Lady Felix said weakly. “I spoke to him. He was fine.”

“You saw what he wanted you to see.”

Olivia fell back onto the bed with a sigh, shoving Lady Felix’s legs out of her way. “He was kind to me, at the beginning. I understand why you loved him. He could be wonderful when he wanted to be. But there was darkness in him.”

Lady Felix scooted down and lay beside her. It was distinctly odd, being so close to her nemesis. She could feel the warmth of Lady Felix’s body against her side. They had so much in common. In another life, they might have been friends, or even more.

“I miss him,” Lady Felix said, tears heavy in her voice. “I miss him every day. I can’t speak of it with Felix or anyone else. You truly did not kill him?” She sounded like she wanted it to be true, at odds with the violence in the articles.

“I didn’t kill him,” Olivia said. “But I wish I had.”

The truth sat between them like a dead thing.

“Why send Mr. Dawson after Constance?” Olivia asked. “The girl is your niece. Was that another way you intended revenge?”

Lady Felix sighed. “That wasn’t my idea. Felix committed the girl’s dowry to Mr. Dawson as part of a business deal. When Felix could not fulfill his end of the bargain…” She shrugged. “I suppose Mr. Dawson took matters into his own hands.”

Thel’s entire family had plotted against him. She did not look forward to telling him.

“You told him things, though,” she said. “Secrets the earl shared with you. My intention to divorce.”

Lady Felix winced. “I was lonely. He listened. Can you blame me?”

Olivia remembered how she had felt, trapped in her house, with only the occasional servant to speak to when the earl had been angry. Given a sympathetic ear, she would have done exactly what Lady Felix had.

“I’m sorry I wrote those things,” Lady Felix said. “I was… upset. I hid my correspondence in Constance’s room so Felix wouldn’t find out and used Thel’s title to convince the editor to publish them.” She twisted on her side and looked at Olivia. “Is your reputation damaged beyond repair?”

Olivia snorted. “Not nearly.”

She had to turn away cards from a dozen men every night. She would know she was truly ruined when the risk of being seen with her outweighed the benefit of her rumored charms.

“I’ll recant my statements,” Lady Felix said. “I’ll… I’ll tell Thel everything.”

Olivia rolled off the bed and stretched. The night had gone far better than she’d expected. Her reputation would be restored, and she could resume matchmaking. So why wasn’t she elated?