Page 101 of A Winter Scandal

“Lady Wofford!” Thea was so stunned that her grip loosened, and Emily’s hand connected with Thea’s face, landing a sharp, hard slap.

Thea responded by doubling up her fist and punching the other woman on the jaw. As she pulled back her fist to hit her again, a man’s arm went around her and lifted her from the ground.

“There now, my love,” Gabriel’s amused voice said in her ear. “That was a splendid facer you planted, but no need to continue the mill. Everything is all right. It’s over.”

“Gabriel! The maid! Hannah! He—” Thea pointed toward the street where the man had grabbed the fleeing maid.

“Don’t worry. We have them.”

Thea relaxed as she saw that Lord Rawdon had a firm grip on the man who had attacked Hannah, while Damaris and her housekeeper were on either side of the maid, leading her back into the house.

Myles hauled the still-struggling Lady Wofford to her feet. She let loose a string of curses that made Myles’s brows rise. “You stupid, insufferable hussy!” she screamed at Thea. “You interfering old tabby! I ought to tear every hair from your head!” She jerked against Myles’s restraining arms. “Let me go, you fool!”

“Not just yet, my lady,” Gabriel said grimly. “No one is leaving until we get this straightened out.”

Twenty minutes later, they were all assembled in the library. The party had ended abruptly, with Damaris and her servants politely seeing the guests, agog with curiosity, on their way. One of the card players, the Squire, was also the local magistrate, so he had remained, settling himself at a table and adopting a judicial air. Lord Rawdon was planted in front of the closed door into the gallery, barring the exit.

Emily sulked in one of the chairs facing the Squire, her husband, Ian, beside her. Ian wore a dazed expression on his battered face. The blood on his lip had dried, and the rest had been wiped away, but his nose was swollen and one cheek reddened, his eye above that cheek puffed and red, as well. Emily, with bits of leaves and dried grass clinging to her hair and clothes and her hair straggling down on one side, looked bedraggled but defiant, an appearance only heightened by the noticeable swelling on her jaw where Thea had punched her.

Gabriel loomed beside the Woffords, arms crossed over his chest, his face stony. A few feet away from Emily sat the man who had attacked Hannah, his hands tied together and the other end of the rope tied to the arm of the chair. Myles was planted behind him. At right angles to the Squire and to Emily and Ian, completing the square, sat the maid Hannah. Her face was splotched from tears, and bright red spots were on her face, promising future bruises, where her attacker’s fingers had dug into her skin as he clamped his hand over her mouth.

Thea sat between Damaris and Daniel a few feet away, watching. Her cheek still stung from Emily’s slap, and she was certain that she would have a number of black-and-blue marks down her back the next day, but she liked to think that Emily’s jaw was equally sore.

“Now,” Squire Cliffe said heavily, sending a majestic glare all around. “What in the name of heaven has been going on here tonight?”

“Nothing that need concern you,” Emily said, dismissing the country squire and turning to Gabriel. “Really, Gabriel, this is nonsense. The local law has nothing to do with any of this. It will only cause us all embarrassment to drag these people into it.”

“If you think I am going to ignore the fact that you attacked Miss Bainbridge or that your hired thug over there assaulted Hannah and kidnapped my nephew, you are in for a rude awakening. I can assure you—”

“Kidnapped!” The Squire turned his glare on the man tied to the chair.

“I never,” the man said shortly.

“The devil you did not,” Gabriel responded. “You struck me with a log! We wrestled in the snow. You are the man who stole Matthew from Miss Bainbridge’s house.”

“I don’t know that man,” Emily said firmly, “and I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you say!” The kidnapper straightened and glared at Emily. “You ain’t pushing this off on me. I been doin’ your dirty work for two years now, and you’re not gullin’ them into thinkin’ I done it alone. You hired me, right enough, and you told me to take that brat. You think I’d a come up with that on me own?”

“And why should I hire you to do anything with some by-blow that Miss Bainbridge”—Emily shot a venomous glance at Thea—“found in the church?”

“I presume because that child is your husband’s son,” Gabriel replied bitingly. “Though I cannot imagine what you hoped to accomplish.”

“She was trying to keep you from findin’ out, that’s what!” Hannah spoke up, her voice hoarse. “She didn’t want the world knowin’ it was her husband’s side-slip. Nor that she was the one what sent my lady out of the country!”

“What!” Ian recoiled from his wife, his dazed face sharpening. “You knew about Jocelyn?”

“Of course I knew, you fool!” Emily rounded on Ian, her eyes blazing. “I am not an idiot! Unlike your friends.” Her scornful gaze went to Gabriel and Rawdon before she turned back to her husband. “I offered you everything! I was willing to take you and all your debts. My father even made good your father’s obligations. I gave you a carriage and four, a hunter, a hack, fine clothes, anything and everything you wanted. And all I ever wanted in return was your affection! Your respect! Instead you made a fool of me, whoring around with that trollop Jocelyn! Getting her with child.” Her lip curled. “I knew. I knew it all!”

“But how could you know? I didn’t even know she was carrying my child!” Ian exclaimed.

“You are a simpleton,” Emily told him bitterly, the anger draining out of her voice, replaced by contempt. “I intercepted the letter she wrote you. You are not the only one who enjoyed getting his hands on my gold; your valet was happy to take my coins as well.”

“You bribed Jossman?”

“I paid him, which is more than you were prone to do. My grandfather may have been a cit, as you were so fond of throwing in my face, but he taught me the value of well-paid employees. I knew all about your secret correspondence with your paramour. It was easy enough to send her a note, pretending to be you. Jossman is also quite adept at forging your hand.”

“No doubt another task you paid him well for!”