Wicked, Sinful Nights

by Julia Latham

  Her insistence that she wasn’t Drayton’s mistress complicated and changed everything. If she truly wasn’t the man’s mistress, that brought up other motives for her to have committed murder. Perhaps she wanted to be Drayton’s mistress—or even his wife—and he wouldn’t have her. Or this denial could be a deliberate attempt to make it seem as if she had no motive to kill the man.

  When he’d told her that all believed her Drayton’s mistress, her redheaded complexion showed her stark blush, then the way she’d paled in sorrow. Could she truly fake all of that? He felt confused and wary.

  Casually, he said, “Are not all young women naive when they marry?”

  She turned away from him toward the window, rubbing her arms as if she couldn’t get warm. “Aye, I imagine so. Brides trust their fathers, as I trusted mine. I was so foolishly carefree in my youth. My parents doted on me, since I had no siblings who survived infancy. I had few chores, for we did not farm for a living. If I forgot my chores while lingering too long in the village, I was seldom scolded. I lived for the moment, gave no thought to the future.”

  “You were a child, Sarah.”

  She shot him a look of disbelief over her shoulder. “I was a young woman who should have known better. I studied the healing arts, reading, and my sums, but little else. When my mother died, I had twenty years. I began to grow up then, because my healing could not help her. I studied harder. Anxious over my unmarried state, my father devoted himself to finding me a good husband. And he thought he did.”

  Those last words were spoken bitterly. She faced him from across the chamber, her chin lifted.

  “I knew he wanted what was best for me, but I did not see that he was as poorly prepared as I.”

  Robert frowned. “What do you mean? Francis said your father was a knight.”

  “But he could not read. He could only make his mark. My marriage contract was weighted in favor of the groom and his family, and they misrepresented it to my father. I brought a monetary settlement, but no land, nothing that could be returned to me on my husband’s death. I learned that my father only leased our manor from his liege lord.” She laughed without amusement. “Did I mention how foolish I was? I thought I would have a comfortable life with Andrew, the son of a local landowner.”

  “Did you love him?” Robert asked, knowing it was none of his business.

  She tiredly shook her head. “I did not know him well enough to love him. When I was little, I thought I wanted to marry for love, but I did not mind its absence. Andrew was handsome and considerate, and I thought love would grow from that.”

  “And it didn’t?”

  “Nay. And I didn’t know enough then to look into someone’s eyes for the truth—or at least for something hidden. He became a different man after the wedding. I thought if I gave him a good home and a happy life, we would grow closer. But nothing I did made him happy.”

  She looked down, her cheeks paling. He wondered if she hinted at the more intimate part of a marriage—or something else. The rumor was that she’d killed him, and she made no secret of the fact that she and her husband were unhappy together.

  She took a deep breath and straightened as if to bolster her courage. “I tried to be a good wife to him, regardless. And I gathered much more knowledge during the marriage than what I’d brought to our union. I learned how to manage a large household, and discovered I was good at it.”

  “The people of Drayton have surely benefited from this, Sarah.”

  She nodded as if she were trying to convince herself. “At least I learned not to be so foolishly carefree. Life is serious, and is meant to be taken so.”

  His mouth quirked in a smile. “Then you must think me foolish. I do not think that life is always serious.” He’d learned early that treating his circumstances as if they molded his life for the worse only made it so.

  “But how am I to know what your true feelings are? You are here to investigate a murder, and could be portraying yourself however you think would work best.”

  She was correct, of course, he thought with reluctant admiration. “I enjoy flirting with women, so it helps me to use that in this situation. But I am not a sober, serious man. Can you not see that in my eyes?”

  He held her with his gaze, and she studied him. The force of her regard was powerful. She thought of herself as an equal, able to judge him. It was far too attractive.

  “But you do sober, serious work, Robert.”

  “Sometimes. But my work does not have to define me.”

  She looked doubtful, but did not argue with him. Nor did she continue with her story.

  He wasn’t ready to let it go. “So you were not able to improve your marriage before your husband died?”

  “Nay, ’twas not to be,” she said, shaking her head.

  She looked sad and resigned, and he would have stopped questioning her for now if he were only a man. But he was a Bladesman.

  “How did he die?”

  “He fell from his horse and hit his head on a rock, right in front of me, only a year after my father’s death.” She met his eyes, her smile grim. “And then I found out how little I truly had.”

  He waited in silence. He could hardly say, Not only do people think you’re a man’s mistress; there are rumors that you murdered your husband.

  When she didn’t speak, he said, “You mentioned that your father hadn’t understood the contract?”

  “My husband’s family took everything—legally.”

  “They forced you to leave?” Because they believe you killed their son.

  “Only after they were certain I carried no child, of course. There was much they blamed me for, and not giving them a grandchild was almost a sin.”

  A stark sadness glimmered in her eyes. Women usually wanted children, and she’d had none, after how many years of marriage? It was too personal to ask for details without making her suspicious, but he would have to find out everything eventually.

  “How did you come to Drayton Hall?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You are full of questions for me today.”

  “’Tis what I’m good at, talking to people,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “And you fascinate me, Sarah. I find I want to know everything about you.”

  “There’s no one here to watch your flirtation, Robert,” she said dryly. “You can stop performing.”

  He looked deeply into her eyes. “I am not performing.”

  She held his gaze a long moment, then turned and walked to the door. “We’ve been alone here too long. I can’t have people believe I’ve already chosen my next paramour.”

  “Sarah—”

  “Nay, you cannot stop how I feel. I will overcome this, and find some way to make people believe the truth.”

  She left the room ahead of him, and he found himself looking back at her ribbons, remembering how he’d felt when he’d flirted with her, kissed her hand. It was all for the greater good, but he was too caught up in his act, drowning in forbidden desire for her.

  At the midday meal, Sarah moved smoothly between the kitchen and the great hall, answering questions and guiding the dance that was the serving of the meal. She told herself that nothing had changed—at least not in the eyes of everyone who lived and worked at Drayton Hall. But inside her, everything was different, as if she weren’t the same person who’d woken up that morning.

  They all thought she was a harlot, a woman who would sleep with a man for security. Or was Robert right? Did they believe she had no choice?

  But that would make her a victim, and she’d always been determined never to be that again.

  She wanted to shout the truth at the top of her lungs—she wanted to slink away and cry. She’d worked so hard to help Drayton Hall and its people, but everything had been based on a misconception.

  Whenever Robert caught her eye, he smiled at her, as if nothing were wrong. She didn’t trust that easy smile—she didn’t trust him. And then she saw him talking to Simon at the head table, and her su
spicions blossomed. Were they talking about her?

  Yet…Robert was talking to everyone. He hadn’t narrowed his investigation to any one person as far as she could tell. But he’d spent the most time with her.

  A sick feeling twisted her stomach. Was he so focused on her because she was a major suspect?

  She didn’t even realize she’d come to a standstill near the kitchen corridor until someone accidentally bumped her from behind.

  “Excuse me, mistress!” said the mortified footman, bowing his head.

  She forced a smile. “I was thinking rather than watching where I was going, William. Please excuse me.”

  She moved out of the way and watched the other servers, even though she wasn’t paying attention. Robert had said everyone was a suspect, and hadn’t ruled out women, either.

  But they all thought she’d been Drayton’s mistress—wouldn’t that make her closer to his lordship, and even more likely to have a reason to kill him?

  She found herself growing light-headed from breathing too quickly, and forced her jumbled thoughts to slow down.

  Whatever Robert thought when he arrived, now he knew she hadn’t been Drayton’s mistress. Surely that would lessen her importance as a suspect in his eyes.

  But what if he didn’t believe her? If she were a murderer, she would certainly have no qualms about lying to protect herself.

  She put a hand on the cold stone wall and struggled to appear calm. Robert and Simon were still conversing, Robert wearing his usual smile, Simon so earnest and serious. What were they talking about?

  She abruptly remembered the Drayton upper staff staring at her when they’d first heard about the murder investigation. Nausea swirled inside her, followed by a heated panic.

  She’d felt so safe here, so protected. And now it had all gone up in smoke. This was the only home she had, the only place where people cared about her.

  Was she going to lose everything, even though she was innocent?

  Chapter 10

  When Sarah finally sat down for dinner on the other side of Francis, Robert couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked too pale, too calm. Their conversation in her bedchamber had changed everything.

  If it was true that she’d never been Drayton’s mistress, then she was still absorbing the fact that all of her friends believed that of her, but she’d never known.

  How had no one ever discussed it? Wasn’t it rather obvious that it would affect something in her life?

  Walter gave a single look between Sarah and him, and only arched an eyebrow. But that look said it all: What has happened?

  “Sir Simon,” Sarah said, “I noticed that you and Sir Robert have become friendly this afternoon.”

  Robert leaned forward and Chapman did the same. Their gazes met.

  “Friendly, Mistress Sarah?” Chapman echoed in that somber voice. “We are not enemies; therefore we can speak politely to each other. I would not yet call us friends.”

  “Acquaintances then,” she said impatiently. “Every time I came out of the kitchens, you were still talking, wearing serious expressions. Is everything…well?”

  “Aye, mistress,” Chapman said, frowning. “We are going hunting this afternoon with many of the household, and we were comparing techniques and hunting stories.”

  “Oh.”

  She seemed to deflate, Robert thought, hiding the unwilling amusement she provoked in him. Had she assumed they were talking about her?

  Then she turned to him. “Sir Robert, I am surprised to hear you are doing something for entertainment, when all know you are here for a serious, important reason.”

  Now she was questioning his methods in front of her people, he thought, unable to stop his smile. She’d surprised him with this tactic, and he always enjoyed being surprised. But he reminded himself that Francis was present, looking from one to the other with resigned confusion as he chewed his bread. He didn’t want the boy to learn the reason for his investigation.

  “Part of my mission is getting to know and understand the people of Drayton Hall, mistress. What better way than to spend the afternoon with the male half of the household?” He grinned. “And of course, I will give equal time to the Drayton women.”

  He heard the chuckles from all around him. Even Sir Simon seemed to press his lips together to hide a smile. Sarah glowed with another lovely blush, and didn’t have an answer as she returned her attention to her meal.

  Sarah was very thankful when the meal was over. She escaped the table as quickly as she could, feeling frustrated and foolish and so confused. For a while she oversaw the servants as they began to clear the tables, but they were well trained and did not need her constant supervision.

  The men had gathered near the hearth, including Simon and Robert, making their plans.

  Oh, she’d made a fool of herself. And she’d discovered nothing that could help her. Then she saw Sir Walter standing apart from the others, and without thinking too much, she walked purposefully to join him.

  He was an intimidating man, she thought, as his pale gray eyes settled on her. He wasn’t incredibly tall, but the width of his chest and shoulders made him seem so much bigger and more powerful. She licked her suddenly dry lips and gave him a faint smile.

  He nodded. “Mistress Sarah, how may I help you?”

  “You are not going hunting with the others, sir?”

  “Nay, I am not. I have other duties to attend to.”

  He was not the friendly partner in this investigation. She wondered how his methods differed from Robert’s. But she would not dare ask. He, too, must think her an important suspect in the viscount’s death. She suppressed a shiver, realizing her danger. She forced herself to breathe, to remember that she had learned much in her life, that she was no longer a vulnerable, naive girl.

  “Mistress Sarah?” Walter said as he studied her.

  She gave him a brief smile. “Forgive me. I was thinking about my own duties yet to be accomplished this day, and that was not fair to you.”

  “You are a busy woman,” he said.

  She wanted to wince. What could he mean by that? But if she read a second meaning into everything these two men said, she would eventually run mad.

  “I like keeping busy, especially now. When I have too much time to think I’m…too sad.” Oh, that was a mistake. It sounded as if she were trying to press her innocence upon him.

  “These are sad times for Drayton Hall,” he said impassively.

  “Are you truly concerned about us? Or are we merely another assignment to you?” She held her breath, shocked at her boldness—or stupidity. Perhaps he didn’t like to be challenged, unlike Robert, who’d seemed to enjoy her dinner table discussion.

  Sir Walter continued to study her before saying, “I treat each assignment from the king with the importance it deserves, mistress. Bringing a murderer to justice and giving a family peace is not something I take lightly.”

  “Of course not,” she murmured, feeling flushed and foolish. “And we will be grateful when you have discovered the truth.”

  “Some will not be so grateful,” he said dryly.

  “Nay, but that person or persons will deserve whatever punishment they’ve earned.”

  “So you think there could be more than one person involved, mistress?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. “I—I do not know. When you said ‘some’ will not be grateful, it made me realize that perhaps a murderer might need help. After all, arsenic had to be regularly administered to Lord Drayton’s food and then brought to him. It might seem suspicious for the same person to serve him each day, and I know that did not happen.”

  The grave expression in his eyes seemed to lighten. “’Tis a good thought. But you know something about healing, mistress. Would the arsenic need to be given every day?”

  She wanted to protest that she’d proven far too unskilled. “I know little of poison, Sir Walter. But his lordship became so sick that it would seem to me that missing a dose every other day or so n
ear the end would not have reversed his illness.”

  “Hmm,” was his only answer.

  Was that what he wanted to hear from her? Or had she made everything worse?

  “Forgive me for keeping you from your duties, sir,” she said, bowing her head as she began to move away.

  “You may speak with me at any time, mistress. Do not forget that.”

  She nodded and hurried away, wondering if he wanted her to confess.

  The mounted knights and officers of the Drayton household rode out from the castle in a group of twenty or so. Robert kept to the rear, where he could see everyone before him. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, although he’d said otherwise to Sarah. There would be little time for discussion.

  But it had been well over a year since he’d gone on a hunt. Once his brother had revealed himself as the rightful earl of Keswick, Robert had lived with him in London as Adam fulfilled his duties at King Henry’s court. The last hunt he’d been on had been with Bladesmen, all excellent hunters.

  There was always a purpose when Bladesmen were together, almost a contest, as if one had to constantly prove oneself. Robert had not seen the importance of such things, so he’d always been able to study the other men’s behavior, amusing himself, rather than take part in such vain showmanship.

  Yet this Drayton hunt seemed a way for the men to relax and forget the tension in the household, now that the murder had been revealed. On horseback, they thundered through the trees until they reached a clearing, dismounting to await the signal from the huntsman, who was off in the forest stalking roebuck with the hounds and their handlers.

  Much as Master Frobisher and Sir Daniel, the steward and treasurer, were there, Robert did not feel the time was right for another discussion with them. They and several other knights of the household all seemed too nervous around him. He put that down to superstition and fear; they couldn’t all have been involved in the murder of their lord.

  He maneuvered himself near Simon Chapman. Together they picked over the fruit and cheese heaped on platters that had been laid out on trestle tables for the hunting party.