hid them from you, she said, ‘A man like that don’t hide his true character from nobody.’ At the time I thought she meant he was open about his mistresses around you, but now I realize she meant that he . . . showed his true colors with you, as well.”
Shame suffused her cheeks with scarlet. “Oh, Lord, what the servants must have thought of me!”
Instantly, he regretted having roused that particular fear in her mind. “They thought, and still think, that you are, and I quote, ‘a fine woman, always considering the needs of others without any reward.’ And I can’t be sure they knew, anyway. The maid didn’t say anything about that in particular.”
Her throat worked convulsively. “I never encouraged his behavior, you know.”
“I assumed that you didn’t.”
She stared down at the wineglass. “Yet you asked the servants about me. And him.”
“Not about the two of you together, for God’s sake. I had no idea . . . I never dreamed . . .” When he paused, thinking through his next response, she lifted a questing gaze to him.
He drew in a harsh breath. “After the maid said you were his hostess and he was a philanderer, I had some notion you might have seen things—” Damn, he was digging the hole deeper with every word. “You can’t blame me for wanting to learn more about what makes you who you are,” he finished feebly.
Her pretty eyebrow shot up. “Is that really why you asked about me? Or was it just to determine how easily you might tempt me into betraying my brother?”
Holy hell. She always got right to the point, didn’t she? “It’s not as if the servants would ever reveal such a thing to me. They’re loyal to you.”
Now he fervently wished he’d remembered that before he had come over here half-cocked. Because the scheming seductress he’d conjured up in his fevered imagination—between when he’d spoken to Sheridan and when he’d confronted her—bore no resemblance to the woman the staff at Armitage Hall had described. Or the woman he’d come to know himself.
Clearly, that woman had been caught in a cruel trap. And he was only making matters worse. “But we were talking about your grandmother and what she knew.”
“Right. And why I didn’t tell her.”
“It might have been better if you had. At least then she could have called your uncle out for it.” He wanted to take her in his arms, reassure her. But now he wasn’t sure how she’d regard such an act. “It wasn’t your responsibility to protect him.”
“Trust me, it was never about protecting him.” She glanced away. “If you’re right and Grandmama did realize what he was up to, then it might not have made a difference if I’d told her, anyway,” she said glumly. “I was almost afraid to find out.”
He could understand that. And she might be right—it might not have made a difference. But that was neither here nor there. Beatrice should never have been abused in such a fashion in the first place. “Your brother was still gone, I take it.”
“He didn’t return until six years after my aunt died but shortly before Grandmama’s death.”
“Did matters improve once your uncle knew you had a protector nearby?”
“A little,” she said, which told him all he needed to know.
That her uncle had continued to be an arse. That the man probably hadn’t considered Wolfe a threat because he was wounded and a mere poor relation.
“For a year after Joshua’s return,” she went on, “he required a great deal of care. His limp is only the most visible manifestation of his wounds. Beyond his damaged leg, he has scars . . .” She set her glass down. “Anyway, since we were living here and not at the hall, I could often use the excuse that I had to go home to look after Joshua. That helped me avoid Uncle Armie many a time.”
The fact that she’d had to resort to such an excuse made him want to howl his anger on her behalf. “You never told your brother about what your uncle was doing?”
Her gaze shot to his. “Of course not. At first, it was because Joshua was struggling to survive, and I didn’t want to compromise that. Then it was because I knew how he would react. Just look how he was with you. How could I risk his confronting our uncle?”
“Yet you think he might have done so, anyway.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never