terrible. A lunatic in the family was something most people would keep hidden. If Papa had known there was madness in Max’s family, he would never have invited him to dinner, let alone entertained a marriage proposal.
But Max was not mad. No, not at all; he was the most logical, sensible, driven person she knew . . . and that meant he had known full well how people would have reacted, if he’d told. How Papa had reacted tonight. If Bianca hadn’t realized who Greta was and gone to her aid, Papa would have thrown her out of the house and barred the door.
And she was no better. If Max had told her of Greta in the early, antagonistic days of their marriage, Bianca knew she would not have taken it well. Not out of fear of Greta, but fury at him.
You kept her a secret so you could save her, she thought as she gazed at her exhausted husband. He clearly cared for his aunt. Greta had taken him in when his mother died, she had sent him to university, and she had tried to get him started in a respectable profession. Lawrence said Max had hired Mr. Leake to look for her months ago.
But had he meant to conceal her existence forever?
Bianca sighed. There was no use pondering these questions on her own. She took up one of the towels left to warm by the fire and draped it gently over his shoulders.
“What?” He startled awake before subsiding. “Greta. Is she—?”
“Asleep in bed, with Aunt Frances standing watch.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Thank you.”
He got out of the tub and dressed. Much as she had done with Greta, Bianca put him to bed, too. Max went as docilely as a child. “When did you last sleep?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside him and brushing the damp hair from his forehead.
“A long time ago,” he said on a sigh. He groped for her hand and brought it to his cheek. “I’m sorry, love.”
“For what?” She kept her voice calm and soft. “For haring off without explaining why? For letting me think you and Greta were simply estranged? Or for something else I’ve not discovered yet?”
He looked at her in despair. “I’ve much to beg forgiveness for.”
She sighed. “Let’s start with this. How long have you been searching for her?”
He hesitated. “Three years.”
That was much longer than Bianca had expected. “My,” she said. “Why so long?”
“Her husband hid her away,” he said, his voice sinking into a drowsy rumble. “He put her in a prison and refused to tell me where. He taunted me and extorted me until I had no more money to give, and still he would not tell me where she was.”
She stroked his hair. “Will you tell me more later?”
“Yes,” he sighed, pressing her hand, still in his. “Everything.”
“What did she say?” asked Bianca on impulse. “When you told her I would help her. Schön?”
His sleepy smile held a hint of his usual wickedness. “Beautiful,” he said softly. “And I replied that you are very beautiful.”
And with that, he fell asleep, and Bianca lay next to him for a long time, unwilling to pry apart their hands.
Max woke with a jerk, bolting upright. He could swear he heard screams, just like the ones at Mowbry Manor. He was half out of bed before Bianca caught his arm.
“Stay,” she mumbled. “Greta is well.”
Heart thundering, he paused, every muscle tensed. “How do you know?”
His wife rolled over and yawned. She was fully dressed, asleep on top of the coverlet. “Aunt Frances and I traded turns sitting with her all night. When she woke this morning, Frances read to her. She seemed to enjoy it.”
“Oh.” Slowly he collapsed back into bed, still trembling from the moment of fearful fury.
“When last I went in, Aunt Frances had persuaded her to let Ellen wash her hair. Can you guess how?” She smiled. “No, you never will. Frances had Ellen wash her hair in the basin, to prove it was safe. Ellen and Jennie were fussing with the combs when I left.”
“How very kind of Mrs. Bentley.”
“Max.” Bianca turned over to face him. “What happened to her?”
He hesitated. Originally, his plan had been to conceal Greta and her condition forever. He’d taken the Duchess of Carlyle’s money and hired Leake, unwilling to abandon his aunt to the clutches of her viper husband, but also desperate to keep his family stain from anyone’s knowledge. As long as Croach had