“There, riding off on that white mare.”

“Bloody ’ell, it is! Get Johnson. ’Is bleedin’ lordship’ll skin us alive if’n we let ’er go out unprotected.”

***

“Lord Carlisle!”

“Ah, Lady Weston. I wasn’t sure you would answer my summons. No footmen? No Crotch? No hounds or cousins or any of the army of attendants you seem never to be without?”

“No, my lord, it is just me today, but I will mention that I am here against my husband’s wishes, and so desire you to be as quick as possible with what you have to say.”

The earl made a slight bow and offered his arm. “Perhaps we might walk that way, away from the crowds?”

Gillian hesitated, and then took his arm. “Your letter was quite intriguing, my lord. You say you know the truth of what happened the night the late Lady Weston died, yet your brief narration of the events does not make sense.”

“In what way does it not make sense?”

“Quite simply, my lord, my husband was not responsible for the death of his first wife.”

Carlisle snorted. “You are judging him by means of your tender woman’s heart, my dear. I assure you that were you to take an unbiased view of the events, you would come to a much different conclusion.”

“An unbiased view? Such as yours?”

“If you like, yes. My judgment is universally known to be trustworthy and free from any bias.”

“Except where Lady Weston is concerned.”

Carlisle glanced at her from the corner of his eye but said nothing. Gillian felt the sparring had gone on long enough. She stopped and faced the earl.

“My lord, just what was your relationship with Lady Weston?”

Carlisle squinted into the sky to watch two ravens fighting over a bit of food. “She was my friend.”

“And lover?”

“And lover.” He looked down into her green eyes and saw no censure, only curiosity and a bit of pity. A strand of hair blew over her cheek; he reached out and gently brushed it back. “So beautiful she was, like one of those Nordic ice maidens come to earth.”

“You loved her?”

Carlisle put his hand on Gillian’s back and gave her a little push. They resumed their walk. “He murdered her, my lady. He shot her in cold blood. She had begged and pleaded with him for a divorce—it was apparent from the first that they were not suited, that his foul habits would destroy everything good and kind in her. She came to me during a house party and begged for my help, pleaded with me on her knees to save her from the nightly tortures he exacted upon her.”

Gillian said nothing. The Noble Carlisle was describing wasn’t her Noble; she felt that for certain.

“I was there that night, you know. I came in answer to a desperate summons from Elizabeth—she had overheard Weston plotting to take her life that night, and she begged me to save her from him.”