Page 49 of Becoming Lady Dalton
“No!” Viola gasped. It was one thing to hear Bow Street’s accusations from Reed’s terrifying companions, but utterly shocking to hear the lies from her grandmother’s lips. She gripped the baroness' arms. Viola forced herself to breathe before she shook the old woman.
“Don’t lie, girl. You’re as bad as your father. They found him, you know. Living, if you can call it that, in your own sister’s unfinished house. What were you thinking?” the baroness ended with a hiss of anger. “Hiding him there. Have you any idea how much you’ve hurt your sister?”
“Samuel is dying. I thought hewasdead. I never meant to lie, Gran. You must believe me.”
“Lady Gracie told me you’d rain down naught but scandal and ruin on the Landor name. I never expected you to be so careless of your sister’s reputation, though. Give me one single reason to ever believe a word from your lying tongue again, Mrs. Cartwright?” The baroness gathered her skirts like ragged scraps of dignity. Viola’s hands fell to her sides. Her heart ached in her chest, a physical pain at the loss of her grandmother’s trust.
“I thought ... if I told you, you would turn me out. I thought I would be a widow soon. What was the harm in giving my husband a safe place to die?” Viola swallowed. “When I needed money, I asked Harper for it. I never stole a cent nor a jewel. I wouldn’t know how to go about doing so.”
“Tell it to the magistrate, Mrs. Cartwright,” the baroness snapped. “He knows all about how you withdrew funds from your sister’s pin money. Harper had no concept of how much you’d spent. Robbing your own family…” Her grandmother broke off, pained. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? You’ve made off with more than a few pretty gems. You’ve stolen my good name. In fact, Mrs. Cartwright, you’ve all but ruined any hope of your sister’s ability to enter society as a respected countess. Her closest sibling will always be a common jewel thief.”
The imperious lady cast Viola a baleful glare like a curse.
“This is why we cut off your mother. We knew your father would come to us for funds when he proved unable to support a fine lady. I’m surprised Mr. Cartwright didn’t come hounding us for gold when you married him.”
“He wanted to—I stopped him. I wouldn’t allow him to contact you, no matter how dire our lives were.” Bitterness choked Viola. “If I’d believed you would welcome me, don’t you think I’d have come to London with Harper after our parents died? I was fifteen! I didn’t know Samuel’s plans for me when I married him. My mother told no one outside the family about the connection.”
“Then how did your husband find out?”
Viola’s mouth pressed into a firm line as her heart broke. Her father had confided in his friend, who’d asked about her mother’s elegant manners. That friend had told Samuel. She’d been friendless, an orphaned child with a sister gone mute from sadness. In marrying him, Viola had done the best she knew how to under trying circumstances.
“I thought so. Your mother began the slide into disrespect, and I have foolishly enabled you to continue it. Well, I have enough regard for the Landor family name to do what I ought to have done when your ragtag family arrived on my doorstep.”
“Grandmother, don’t abandon me,” Viola pleaded, her heart throbbing erratically as if it were tearing in two.
“Never call me that name again, Mrs. Cartwright. I disown you.” The baroness turned in a tight circle, and head high, spine straight as ever, departed. The cell door clanged closed, leaving Viola in darkness.
“I seeno avenues to pursue. Your lady was caught red-handed stealing at a ball and arrested in the process of an attempt to cover up her crime. How can you be certain Mrs. Cartwright is innocent?”
Piers fought the urge to slam his fist against the desk. He was a gentleman, after all, not an uncivilized tyrant. But once, just once, he wished he could throw off the mantle of respectable gentleman and bash through the world fighting with both fists. It would be so much more gratifying than this endless game of Chess and checkmate. Control.
“Because, at the time of the bauble’s disappearance, Mrs. Cartwright was with me. Alone, if you understand my meaning.”
The barrister stared at him over tented fingers, until Piers felt like a naughty schoolboy. “Is that so.”
“Not in the sense you appear to believe.” Almost, but not quite. Viola had been very firm in refusing him at every step, and now, Piers understood why her longing was at war with her willingness. The one excellent thing about Bow Street’s mercenary reputation was that their services could be purchased. He hesitated whether to tell Thomas Belden what he’d done, but damn it, Piers needed help. “The lady and I were engaged in private discussion, during which she revealed that her husband was not quite in her past.”
He soon would be, though. After a flurry of correspondence with the Earl of Briarcliff, Samuel Cartwright was permitted to stay at the townhome under guard. The magistrate had, on the doctor’s advice and with Briarcliff’s agreement, ordered him to stay alive long enough to serve as a witness.
“Mhm,” Thomas replied, clearly dubious of his assertion. “Allow me to summarize what you have asked me to do for you, Lord Dalton. You want me to present a defense for a woman who has lied about being a widow, who was caught stealing money from her sister, and who has been caught with Lady Whitney’s favorite brooch on her person, and whom you are not—forgive my coarseness—rutting with?”
Piers shifted like a guilty schoolboy. “Damnit, Thomas. We were friends once. I know she didn’t commit a crime.”
“How?” asked Thomas with the distant curiosity befitting an attorney.
“Because I know her character. Viola confessed the existence of her husband at the very moment the true thief was framing her for his crimes!” he explained.
“What makes you think the thief is a man?” inquired Thomas.
“Because… Blast you, Thomas. A crime this brazen requires a certain degree of gall. To walk into London’s finest ballrooms as a guest and steal jewels right off the bodies of well-heeled aristocracy requires steady nerves and dexterous fingers, not to mention a complete lack of remorse. The culprit must be willing to look a person in the eyes and lie well enough to appear guileless.”
“These thefts necessitated brazen deceit and dexterity. Does that not incline you to believe the thief is a woman?” Thomas asked pointedly.
“If it’s a man, it cannot be Mrs. Cartwright.”
“Which means, my friend, you must hold a shadow of doubt about your lady love.”
“She is not my lady love,” Piers replied stiffly.
