He suspected there was more to the ugly tale than she’d let on. The hint of torment in her eyes had spoken volumes. The story had left him feeling both sickened and oddly discomfited. Despite the pride he’d always taken in his rank, her experiences made his comfortable life seem … inconsequential. And it was sobering to reflect that he’d voted in Parliament to fund the war that had resulted in Audrey’s death. He’d always shared the Englishman’s contempt for the former colonies for having had the cheek to launch a successful revolt against their mother country nearly forty years ago.

But now he found himself curious to learn more about these Americans and their way of thinking. Miss Fanshawe, in particular.

The moment the woman disappeared from sight, the countess addressed her husband in a hissing tone. “Why did you not tell me of this letter, Archie? Why did you keep it a secret?”

Godwin shifted in his chair to pat her hand. “I didn’t wish to burden you when I knew nothing about Miss Fanshawe. I’d intended to hire a man to look into the matter next week when we go to London. I’d have told you eventually, of course.”

“I’m inclined to share your caution, Father,” Wymark said as he unfolded his wiry frame from the chair and fetched himself another brandy. “For all we know, Miss Fanshawe may be a trickster.”

Hadrian pivoted toward him. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?” he snapped. “You heard what she had to say. She clearly knew Audrey.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But perhaps when Audrey was killed, Miss Fanshawe saw her opportunity. Perhaps that is when she devised a hoax.” Wymark sipped his brandy, his blue eyes narrowed. “Having learned of my sister’s noble connections, Miss Fanshawe may have decided to obtain forged papers, pass off her own son as Audrey’s child, and then live the good life on my father’s benevolence.”

Lady Godwin gripped the padded gold arms of her chair. “Then she may very well be an adventuress angling for a portion of your inheritance!”

Hadrian listened to them first in incredulity, then in anger. He was ashamed to admit that that very suspicion had flitted through his own mind in the post chaise, when he’d first learned her story. But it had swiftly dissipated upon his assessment of her frank nature and, strangely, her disdain for the nobility. She struck him as too open and forthright to be a deceiver.

“This is preposterous,” he said, frowning at each of them in turn. “You’re casting slurs on the woman’s character without a shred of evidence. She was your daughter’s friend. Kindly remember she is a guest in this house.”

“Clayton is right,” the earl concurred. “We mustn’t leap to conclusions. Nevertheless, I cannot simply raise a strange child without the proper legal proof that he is my kin.”

“If indeed she is practicing deceit, you mustn’t allow them to stay even a moment under this roof,” his wife said. “You must send them away at once!”