Free An Infamous Marriage by Susanna Fraser Page B

with a malicious smile. “That is not all he has been doing, or so my informant tells me.”
    What on earth? “Your informant?”
    “Oh, did I never tell you I have a cousin married to a merchant in Montreal?” Lady Dryden asked with a little laugh. “I suppose it must have slipped my mind. Dear Kitty and I aren’t always the best of correspondents, but when she heard this particular on-dit she said she could not wait to take up her pen, since she was sure I would want to hear anything concerning a certain military gentleman belonging to Selyhaugh.” She opened her reticule and drew out a letter, closely written in a feminine hand.
    Good God, what had Jack done? He hadn’t even mentioned Montreal in his last two letters. For all Elizabeth knew he had spent the entire time in the comparative wilderness of Upper Canada. Whatever had happened, she didn’t want to hear it from Selina Dryden. “I hope you have not come all this way only to pass along gossip,” Elizabeth said, “for I never listen to it.” She got to her feet, hoping her guest would take the hint. “I beg your pardon, but Mrs. Armstrong will be expecting me to read to her.”
    Lady Dryden kept her seat. “Surely she hasn’t enough of her faculties left to know if you are a quarter of an hour late. If I were you, I would want to know. No wife should remain in ignorance.”
    Elizabeth knew she ought to walk away, but she stood arrested in place.
    “Shall I read you the significant portion?” Without waiting for a response, Lady Dryden smoothed the paper and began. “‘I never would have supposed from Colonel Armstrong’s behavior in this town that he is a married man. He certainly never speaks of his wife. Indeed, he has made many an inroad in the hearts of the fair, but until yesterday he showed no partiality to any English lady, though he is said to have a half-breed Indian woman in his keeping as so many of our gentlemen do.’”
    Elizabeth took a slow, deep breath. She did not expect Jack to be perfectly faithful to their unconsummated marriage over an absence spanning years, and she could hardly accuse him of flaunting his affairs under her nose when he was an ocean away. But neither had she expected him to act in Montreal society as though he were a single man, and to never even speak of her existence. She thought of him every day, after all, and spoke of him all the time. Her heart pounded. Why did Lady Dryden have a cousin in Montreal, and why must she be such a dreadful gossip? Yet Elizabeth stayed still even as her visitor’s laughing eyes seemed to cut her like a knife.
    “‘Last night all that changed, and all anyone can talk of is how he sneaked into the home of the fur merchant James Mannering last night and carried off his beautiful wife, Helen, who is now in his keeping. Everyone expects Mannering to challenge Armstrong to a duel, but perhaps he will not, since he is a craven sort and much older than the one who put a cuckold’s horns upon him. If it came to swords, Armstrong would surely win, but with pistols the case might be more even.’”
    How could he? How could he? How could the same man who wrote such thoughtful, amusing letters show so little respect for her, or even for himself? He wanted to rise in the army, but wouldn’t this tarnish his reputation in the sight of his superiors? Nothing could possibly excuse so infamous a course. And, oh, God, what if there had been a duel, and with pistols, and he’d been wounded or even killed? Elizabeth wanted to kill him herself, just then. But she could not bear the thought that someone else might have done it, months ago, and made her a widow again, all unknowing.
    “I hope I have not shocked you too greatly.” Lady Dryden’s voice dripped with false kindness. “But I do always think a wife should know of such matters.”
    At least when you are the one fortunate enough to inform her, Elizabeth thought. “Why should I believe a word you say?” she ground out. She