Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,9

think de Raven will be at de old chateau.”

“Oh, yes.” Ruban looked at Dredthorne Hall. “Death so enjoys a good party.”

Chapter 5

Twilight had descended around the weathered grey slate tile roofs and worn buff stone and brick walls of Dredthorne Hall when Baron Greystone stepped out onto the second-floor balcony. A biting wind yanked at his cravat, and raked loose his black mane, determined to dishevel him. Over the years since he had departed Renwick, he had often recalled this old folly, built a century past by a merchant with too much wealth and too little restraint. The previous tenants had made some repairs, mostly to shore up the deteriorating structure and disguise the worst ravages of time, but Pickering had declared it perfectly suited to his scheme.

As he did for all things French, Greystone felt little admiration for the crumbling would-be chateau, but he would only have to tolerate it for one night. In a handful of hours this thing would be finished, and Greystone could return to London on the morrow.

Not that he especially wished to.

It surprised him how little Renwick had changed since he had left it; the countryside had remained rustic, peaceful and unreservedly charming, just as it had been in his boyhood, in fact. Prior to his arrival he had been obliged to arrange the hiring of more staff for Gerard Lodge in order to make a convincing show of taking up proper residence, but he had already decided to keep them on. His boyhood home had been neglected since his father’s illness, and needed to be thoroughly cleaned and refurnished. Once spring came his mother might be persuaded to move to the country, as long as someone else suggested it.

Lady Greystone would have nothing to do with her only son.

I understand you perfectly, William, the baroness had assured him the last time she had spoken to him. Your father and I raised you to be an honorable gentleman, but you have chosen another path. You also broke the heart of a dear young lady in the worst possible fashion. I only hope your conviction gives you comfort, for you will not have it from us.

Indeed. He had looked at his father. You are of the same opinion, sir?

Nothing more can be said, the baron said, his expression as cold as ever before he turned and left the room.

Before she followed, his mother had taken one long, last look at him. Please leave this house now, Mr. Gerard, and never again think of returning.

At his father’s funeral six years later, Greystone had watched his mother from the opposite side of the casket. He could see the tracks that tears had left in the rice powder on her cheeks, and the crumpled wad she had made of the handkerchief in her hand. For all his father’s coldness his mother had been a devoted, loving wife—just as William had been the silent, obedient son. Not once had the old baron ever attempted to free either of them from the prison of his own making.

Throughout the service Greystone refused to look at the casket holding his father’s remains. If he had, he knew he would have kicked it.

When he had tried to approach his mother after the funeral, her maid had stepped in his way, and shaken her head. He had watched as Lady Greystone made her way to a waiting carriage without looking back. The baroness could not even bring herself to acknowledge his presence.

Later, when his father’s attorney had met with him alone to discuss his inheritance and the barony, Greystone had given him a letter for his mother. In it he had broken the vow he had made to his father and told her the truth. A day later a footman returned it unopened to him at his club, along with her card, on the back of which she had written three words: Remember your choice.

Besides Greystone, only his father could truly appreciate the irony, but the old baron had gone to his grave as silent on that subject as he had been in life. He’d tossed the letter on the fire and burned his last hope of redemption.

The past wanted to haunt him tonight, Greystone thought as he went to the balcony’s railing. Soon the guests for the masquerade ball would arrive, providing what he had been assured would be a distraction essential to the success of their plan. Only after agreeing did he learn that among the guests would be the only woman