Page 93 of Almost a Bride
“Lady Thornton, if you have no more questions for me, I must journey to the Tower. I might have evidence to convince the queen that Spencer is innocent.”
“Of course he’s innocent,” Lady Thornton said, waving a hand dismissively. “But first I must know why you followed him to London.”
“But I already told you about Rodney Shaw. He could be in town already. I must—”
“No, there is another reason.”
Again, Roselyn felt the power of penetrating black eyes, so like Spencer’s, and she shifted uncomfortably.
“Two years ago, you broke the betrothal contract rather than marry my son.”
Roselyn stiffened. “Yes, my lady.”
“Why do you help him now?”
“We both had done things we regretted then. I knew Spencer didn’t love me, and his treatment of me…” She trailed off, hesitating to offend his mother.
“Was abominable,” Lady Thornton finished with conviction. “And I could not understand why. His father and I raised him to respect women, and his reluctance to marry made no sense to us.”
“I think I finally understand it,” Roselyn said. “He never thought he could have the kind of marriage you and his father had. He implied to me that his heritage often left him feeling that no woman would want him. He had no way to tell you this without hurting you, so he…”
“He hurt you instead,” Lady Thornton whispered.
Roselyn saw the sheen of tears in those proud eyes.
“But you have forgiven him?” Lady Thornton asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes,” Roselyn said without hesitation.
The older woman relaxed her shoulders the slightest bit. “Does my son love you?”
“He has not spoken the words, my lady, so I cannot say for certain. He is too conscious of the danger to you and Alex, and to me.”
“Very well. We will worry about this matter at another time,” Lady Thornton said in a firm voice.
Roselyn thought she might be hiding a smile, and felt herself warm to this woman who loved her husband and sons so much she braved the enmity of a foreign land.
“Now we must set these mistakes to right,” Lady Thornton continued. “I will ask for an audience with the queen.”
“No, my lady, you must let me do this. And please don’t think it is because the war is with your people.”
Lady Thornton stood up, her back straight with pride. “I am an Englishwoman now, Lady Roselyn. Why would I think such a thing? But how can you help my sons?”
“Because I might have the proof that will convince the queen of Shaw’s guilt. And I could use your help.”
Soon the two women were back in the master suite, their heads bent over the letter written in Spanish. Lady Thornton frowned as she read.
“What does it say?” Roselyn asked anxiously.
“These are orders to kill a Mr. Smythe, a British agent who was discovered. It is signed by Señor de Alcega. Do you know this name?”
“No,” she said, refusing to acknowledge the panic that made her fingers tremble upon the letter. She pointed to the top of the parchment. “Is this not a name?”
“No, formal greetings only,” the Lady Thornton said, shaking her head. “Bah, murderers who politely greet one another.”
