A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,58

seemed too loud in the echoing chamber. “I miss her, you know. I-I didn’t know her long, but I miss her.”

They were wholly inadequate, but one look at his face told me he understood.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Me, too.”

I’d never doubted he loved my friend, despite her being married to another man, despite the impossibility of their being together. Lord Drummond had been an angry, jealous man. It didn’t matter that his wife hadn’t taken Lord Henry to her bed; he would never have allowed their attachment to continue. Their friendship was doomed from the start.

He cleared his throat, and then seemed to blindly latch on to whatever subject occurred to him next. “Helmswick, then.”

“Do you think it’s him?” I asked, unwilling to allow such an opportunity to pass.

He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I mean, he left for Paris the day after he delivered Nell and the children. We know he did. But could he have come back?” His gray eyes swam with doubts. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“If it is him,” I began, tentatively trying to probe him to see what he might reveal, “why do you think he returned?”

His mouth flattened into a thin line, and at first I thought he would deny knowing, but then his gaze flicked toward mine, dawning with comprehension. “You already know about Marsdale, don’t you?”

I didn’t reply, allowing him to believe what he would.

He exhaled a breath of weary aggravation. “Far be it from me to judge. I know Nell is unhappy with Helmswick.” He scowled. “He can be a right rotten blackguard, especially when he doesn’t get his way. But she and Marsdale could have been a bit more discreet.”

This all but confirmed my suspicions, making the knot of dismay that had twisted in my stomach pull even tighter. “What do you think of Marsdale?” I asked evenly.

“He’s a decent enough fellow.” His eyes hardened with cynicism. “When he’s not out to prove to the world, and his father, what a care-for-nothing cad he is.”

I had to agree that was an accurate assessment.

“He’s never fluttered a lash at the parentage of the younger four of us, so that’s a point in his favor. Knows more of our secrets than some, and yet he’s never betrayed them. That I know,” he added, studying me speculatively. Then he sighed and turned away. “But I do wish they’d just wed when they had the chance years ago.”

I’d wondered if they had a history together. Given their mothers’ friendship, they seemed like a natural match. After all, Marsdale was the heir to a dukedom, and for all intents and purposes, Lady Eleanor was a duke’s daughter. Dynastically speaking, a noble family could hardly ask for a better pairing.

“Why didn’t they?”

Lord Henry’s brow furrowed. “I was young at the time, and therefore horribly self-absorbed. But I seem to remember it was because Marsdale did something stupid.” He tilted his head. “Though it’s just as likely Nell did something stupid, too.” He shook his head. “And does it really matter now? Nell wed Helmswick sometime later and Marsdale continued his hell-raking until about six months ago. I gather they reconnected, and whatever had been between them was not completely dead.” He cringed. “Sorry. That was a poor choice of words.”

I moved closer to him, lowering my voice as I laid a hand on his forearm. “If Helmswick had returned to Sunlaws, and if he’d caught his wife in bed with Lord Marsdale . . .” I searched his eyes, allowing the suggestion to dangle in the air between us. “What do you think he would have done?”

His gaze turned troubled. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “But . . . it would not have been good for Nell.”

“Do you believe he would have taken her before the House of Lords and tried to divorce her, or sued Marsdale for criminal conversation with his wife?” I asked aghast.

Both were rare, but absolutely devastating to the wife when they occurred. Any property she brought to the marriage, as well as their children, would belong to the husband. But, of course, there was no similar recourse for wives who found themselves with philandering husbands. In truth, among the nobility, infidelity was almost expected among the men. And even when the husband was brutal, there was nothing the wife could do unless she could prove her life was in danger. This I knew well.

“I don’t know if he would pursue it that far.” Whatever