Free A Clandestine Courtship by Allison Lane

seriously considered the local connection. Thus he hasn’t asked the right questions. Every person in the district must have a theory about who killed John. Since you knew him better than anyone, I want to hear yours.”
    She frowned. “Where did you get that idea? He was Frederick’s friend, not mine.”
    “Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, anxious to get this phase of the conversation finished. “I don’t care what either of you did. John was despicable, but that does not give anyone the right to kill him. Even you.”
    “Me?” she spat. “Did the Indian sun addle your wits? What earthly reason would I have to take a life?”
    “I want justice, Mary.” He walked close enough to loom over her. “And I don’t care what secrets I have to expose to get it. I’ve known about your affair for years. I doubt you entered it by choice, but even if it continued until John’s death, I wouldn’t blame you. Your husband was rarely at home.” He had not intended to say that much, but the words poured out, leaving gaping wounds behind. Damn John! And damn Mary. He cared, all right. No matter how much he deplored the idea, he cared.
    “What affair?” she demanded, her face so white he feared she might swoon. She hadn’t reacted that strongly to his accusation of murder. Did she think no one knew?
    “Don’t play the innocent with me, Mary. John told me about it ten years ago.”
    “My name is Lady Northrup,” she snarled, retreating from his intimidating stance until she had put a table between them. She fingered a pair of scissors as if she considered stabbing him. “You are as despicable as your brother, and far more stupid. I can’t believe you can be that credulous.”
    “ Credulous?” His voice dripped ice.
    “Are you blind, my lord?” She slammed the scissors back onto the table and glared at him. “Can you actually believe a word he said? You, of all people, should know how he twisted facts. He was no gentleman. Winning and exercising his power were more important to him than truth or honor. How many falsehoods did he spread about you?”
    “But—”
    “But nothing. I never believed that you killed your father, though John told everyone that you had fled rather than admit to striking him down. In fact, most of the rumors surrounding your departure originated with him.”
    Dear God! “I left because John threatened to evict the Thompsons and abuse Cotter and the other tenants if I stayed.”
    “That sounds like him. John was contemptible. He routinely cheated tradesmen. He reveled in making the tenants struggle to meet their rents – which he raised whenever higher corn prices made their lot bearable. He brutalized more than one of his servants. Whoever killed him deserves a reward for outstanding service to the community.”
    “Are you claiming that you never had an affair with him?” he demanded, struggling to understand her words. Had that white face been fury rather than fear?
    “I’m telling you that your brother would say anything to carry an argument.” She twisted her face into a sneer. “But you are like everyone else. Believing him justifies having designs on me yourself. Well, forget it. I deplore affairs and could never consider one with a man who can only remind me of the neighborhood scourge.”
    “No one gets that angry over injustices to others.” He ignored her other charges as well as his own fury whenever he encountered injustice. “What did he do to incite such hatred? Did he ravish you?”
    “Of course not! I would have killed him myself if he’d tried. I’ve seen the results too often.”
    “Why would a rape victim come to you? Everyone believed you to be his mistress,” he scoffed, again failing to censor his tongue.
    “Not everyone – especially before my marriage; the vicarage welcomed those in trouble.” She sighed, turning away. “Calm down and think, my lord. John had no need to steal my virtue. He could inflict far more pain by stealing my