expression and she hurriedly stood.
“Crispin! You are back so soon, I—”
Her words faltered when she noticed Maryann.
The little girl who had been curled into her side sprang to her feet and hurtled herself at Crispin.
“Uncle Crispin!” she greeted with a huge smile, hugging him. “You’re back so soon!”
He ruffled her dark blond hair. “How are you doing, poppet, feeling better?”
Poppet.
Maryann’s heart started a slow, painful thud.
The lady had not taken her gaze from Maryann, and she in turn couldn’t help noticing how astonishingly beautiful she was.
“Arianna,” Crispin said with palpable effort, “this is my sister, Maryann. Something has happened, and we must converse immediately.”
Arianna strolled to her, a cautious smile on her face, and dipped into a curtsy. “Lady Maryann, what a pleasant surprise but such an honor to meet you. I have heard many wonderful things about you.”
Maryann smiled. “I have heard a lot about you as well, Miss Arianna, it is a pleasure.” Yet her heart bled.
Arianna appeared at bit bemused, but she smiled, a happiness glowing in her eyes.
The little girl who appeared about nine years of age was reluctantly ushered off to bed, and Miss Arianna called for tea and some cakes. She sat on a long sofa and Crispin lowered himself beside her and gently held her hand in his.
Maryann noted the intimacy and the blush that pinkened Miss Arianna’s cheeks. The awareness was mutual, yet Maryann took no comfort in that knowledge.
“Please, tell me what is wrong,” Miss Arianna said. “My heart has been so anxious since you arrived. I had no expectations to see you before next week, Crispin.”
He looked away as if he did not know where to start.
Maryann set her plate with small cakes on the walnut table and delicately cleared her throat. “There is a man…Lord Nicolas St. Ives…”
Miss Arianna gasped, pulling her hands from Crispin and folding them in her lap.
“Yes?” she asked tremulously at Maryann’s pause.
“He believes you to be dead…and…and for the last several years has been bringing the men who hurt you to justice. They have all been made to pay as he took the life from them they value so much. That you are alive does not underscore the justice he dealt to these men. Their monstrous attack alone would have warranted it. I believe…I believe it is particularly important that Nic…Lord Rothbury be made aware that you are alive, Miss Arianna.”
She paled and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh God!” A hand was pressed over her mouth and for endless minutes she closed her eyes. A determined tear leaked from beneath her lowered lashes. “He got my letter.”
“He did,” Maryann said softly.
Miss Arianna appeared anxious as she demanded, “Please tell me everything.”
Maryann relayed all she knew succinctly. Miss Arianna noisily sobbed and Crispin looked on helplessly.
“He found them from the letter I left?”
“Yes.”
“I did not know he cared,” she whispered, raw with emotion. “I believed him cold and uncaring, his only concern his status and reputation.”
“Is that why you allowed him to believe you had died?”
Crispin sent her a cautioning glance and she took a deep breath.
“He loved you…loves you,” she said with a throat that ached. “He grieved for you, and he allowed such hatred in his heart so he could ruin the men who hurt you. His path led him to Crispin, for he was the black Dahlia.”
Arianna covered her face, her shoulders shaking controllably. Several minutes passed before she lifted her head, taking the handkerchief Crispin held out and dabbing her cheek. “They…those men…I put them behind me years ago. They no longer haunt me, and from my pain I even gained my most precious gift. My child and a friendship in which I trust and treasure. I never imagined my Nicolas would have hurt so.”
My Nicolas. Maryann wanted to howl her grief and pain.
“They led me to believe he did not care, that he knew what they planned, and I…I naively believed what they said. I thought him greatly indifferent. Even at such an age, I understood girls of my background only served as mistresses and Cyprians for gentlemen…and when I was reminded of that, I believed it.”
Maryann stiffened. “Nicolas is the eagle?”
The eagle soars indifferent while the wolf betrays the dove.
“Yes, he is,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the memory. “When I tried to use his name and position to scare them, my bravado was met with such taunting laughs. I was so silly.”
As if he could wait no more, Crispin wrapped his arms around her shoulder. “I