Page 17 of Lady Petra and the Wolf

Lord Royce had glanced over at her as if only remembering she was there, appearing more uncomfortable than guilty. Petra remembered how her stomach turned as she recalled his cold clammy hands on her earlier that day.

“I have a new view on the bill I suppose,” Lord Royce muttered.

“It will benefit the realm.” Her father smiled for the first time in their exchange. Until that moment, Petra had always loved that smile, and had considered her father brave and benevolent. But in that moment, she saw how the smile did not reach his eyes.

It made her wonder. Had she ever seen his eyes light up when he smiled?

That was the moment Petra realized her father would never protect her. And there was nothing to stop her from being the bait for her father’s traps now that she was old enough to be tempting to her father’s targets. On that day, as Lord Royce fled Kemberley House with his tail between his legs, Petra solved her first mystery. And yes, she became a pawn in a much larger game of chess, but she also ensured that no maid in Kemberley House was ever forced to be a pawn again. Her father was a practical man. He knew a lecherous peer or MP was far more likely to fear the word of a gentlewoman than a woman of a different station.

After that day, Petra had hardened her heart so that it could never break again the way it had broken slowly over the course of their conversation in her father’s study. When she realized that her father was just looking for Lord Royce’s vote and had no intention of fighting for her honor.

The only one left to fight was her.

The memory faded as Petra felt the weight of her father’s assessing gaze, his features transfigured into a flickering mask as the carriage wended beneath the warm, intermittent glow of the passing streetlamps. The amber lamplight washed over her father’s frigid visage, alternately illuminating and obscuring the unyielding lines of his countenance as the conveyance rattled through the night, before his lips twisted into something resembling a smile.

“My Pet,” he began and the words caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. “You may be useful to me yet.” And then he said no more.

With a heavy heart, Petra exited the carriage and went to find her cousin, who seemed to be in the middle of an explosion of garments and fabrics.

“Jillian.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Jillian walked to her cousin and took her hand.

“Petra, I’m so sorry.”

Petra shook her head, unable to process everything that was happening as she took in the bedchamber.

“What is happening here?”

“I am leaving.”

“No! Not on my account. There is nothing to be sorry about.” Petra gripped Jillian’s long, capable fingers, beseeching the one person she loved to stay with her.

“Yes, there is. I have wronged you in the worst way, Petra, I didn’t know.”

“I know, Jillian. Like I said, there is nothing to be sorry for.”

“And Lord John, I don’t know how he could—”

Petra held up a hand. “Jillian, you should not blame Lord John.” She sighed, willing herself to make this right. She could not let them be torn apart by her naive feelings. By her yearning for safety. “I believe…I think I was a bit carried away with the idea of marrying him. There was no understanding between us. It was all my father’s idea. From what I have gathered, Kemberley wanted ties to both Camborne and Herron Shipping. And I wanted to be married to a good man. One who cared more about other people than he did about power. He didn’t have to love me…” She trailed off and looked pointedly at Jillian. “But I would not want to marry a man who is clearly in love with someone else, no matter how good he is. Especially if that costs the happiness of my favorite person.”

“We are the oldest of friends. We are not—he doesn’t—” Jillian must have been deep in denial, for she hardly ever stumbled over her words.

“Jillian, anyone with eyes saw something between you two. I do not know what happened that makes it so hard for you to acknowledge it, and I suppose you cannot solve that in one night. But I need you to know Lord John and I have no understanding. And I think you should give him a chance.”

Jillian’s eyes watered. “Petra.” She kissed her hand, a gesture they had learned from their mothers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.” Petra drew her into a hug then stepped back to survey Jillian’s packing. “But where are you going?”

“I cannot go to the villa until the fighting has died down, but I might travel.” Jillian’s late husband had left her a villa in Italy, but the war there had made it impossible to settle. “I will go stay with Mildred for a little while first. I would like to see my cousin Flora.” Mildred was Jillian’s father’s sister, the widow of a gentleman, she resided in London.

Petra nodded and stepped further into the room as if willing Jillian to open up just a fraction more. There was more to her cousin’s story, she could sense it. “Are you going to search for Stephen?”

“If I can,” Jillian admitted and Petra released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. At last, Jillian was telling her the truth. “Petra, I have to tell you something…” Her cousin paused and Petra could almost feel her weighing how much to tell her. “He is innocent—”

“I knew it,” Petra blurted before she could stop herself.

“And we finally have the proof.”

Proud and a little envious of her cousin’s detecting abilities and freedom as a widow, Petra listened to Jillian recount what she had been doing in London to uncover her brother’s innocence in their mother’s death.