“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.”
Gillian shook her head. “Not Noble.”
“Noble, my lady. I saw him with my own eyes, swooned with blood lust, lying in a pool of his wife’s blood, the pistol that killed her still clutched in his hand.”
Gillian shook away the terrible picture Carlisle so vividly painted. “Not…Noble?” she whispered. “Perhaps…perhaps he just happened upon the scene and was struck down by…or perhaps he was defending her and accidentally…my lord, Noble would never hurt someone weaker than he, never!”
“I can assure you that I speak the truth, Lady Weston. I saw the marks, you see. I saw the marks that fiend had left upon her body — bruises from beatings, stripes on her back where he had taken a lash to her, and…and worse. I won’t be specific about the other things he did to my fair Elizabeth, other than to say that they were the most unnatural of sexual practices.” The earl’s face darkened as he was again swept up by the remorse and helplessness he had felt that night. “If I had been a peer then, I might have had a chance to bring him to justice, but as it was, I could do nothing. Your husband escaped unpunished for that heinous crime.”
Gillian looked at two children running along the graveled footpath, a small terrier at their heels, barking excitedly as he chased the pair. They were so young, so innocent, so new and untouched and clean. Was she just as young and innocent as they were? Had she allowed her feelings for Noble to override her common sense? Was she being blind, not seeing him for what he really was?
Random images of him came to mind: Noble grinning at her the night he was shot, Noble ruffling Nick’s hair as the two walked together toward the garden at Nethercote, the exasperated patience in the wry twist to his lips when he saw her blue hands, the love shining out of his beautiful silver eyes when they joined together as one.
“No.” She turned back to Carlisle. “No, my lord, you are wrong.”
“I saw him with the pistol! I had seen the marks—”
“Then they are from another, not Noble. If he had a pistol in his hand, there must be an explanation for it. An explanation other than the one you offer.”
Carlisle shook his head. “You are allowing affection to blind you to the truth, my dear. Your husband is a consummate liar, a concealer of secrets of the most heinous sort, a vicious, cruel man who will think nothing of destroying you as he destroyed my Elizabeth. You are in danger, Lady Weston, grave danger, and I wish to help you before it is too late.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I could not…I could not help Elizabeth, but I will not fail you.”
“Secrets and lies,” Gillian said softly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Secrets and lies. That’s what Palm…a gentleman told me.” She looked up into the earl’s face. “Secrets begetting lies. But what is the secret that started the lies?”
The earl held her gaze. “The only way to find the answer to that, my lady, is to ask your husband, and that is not an action I would recommend, for surely it will mean the end for you just as it meant the end for my dear Elizabeth.”
Gillian stared wordlessly at him, unable to resolve the image of Noble lying in his wife’s blood, the instrument of her death clutched in his hand, with what she knew of him. Which was the true Noble? Which were the lies? How was she to determine the truth?
“Gillian! Lord Carlisle! What a surprise! How delightful to meet you…in this wholly unexpected…and unforeseen manner,” Charlotte panted as she galloped up to the pair. “Oh, my, it’s quite warm out today, is it not? Lord Carlisle, may I make you known to Lady Caroline Ambermere? Caroline? Well, that’s her back there. She’s a slow walker.”
Gillian rolled her eyes. There were times when Charlotte’s manners fell far short of her own, rusticated and colonial though they were. She handed her cousin her handkerchief. Charlotte took it with a shy and demure smile at the earl, then turned to look back at Lady Caroline and deftly applied the cloth to her glowing face.
“We were just about to walk to the Serpentine, Lady Charlotte. I assume since you and Lady Caroline just came from that direction that you are headed elsewhere, so if you will excuse us…”
“Not at all,” Charlotte said gaily, and grabbed her cousin’s arm. “We love the Serpentine. Do let us walk there now.”
Gillian gave the earl a rueful smile but was secretly relieved by Charlotte’s appearance.
“Now, what were you discussing? The weather? The latest gossip? Whether Lord Weston killed his wife?”
“Charlotte!”
Charlotte gave her cousin a sidelong look. “There’s no use my pretending not to know anything about it, Gillian, Lord Carlisle did send me that note…”
“Which was addressed to me and only meant to be forwarded by you, not read.”
“No! I must have neglected to notice that,” Charlotte said, smiling shamelessly at the earl. He raised his eyes to heaven and, with a sigh, turned toward the Serpentine.
“Impudent as my cousin is, she does have a point, my lord,” Gillian said as they walked toward the slip of water. “She is in my confidence, and you can speak freely before her.”
“Absolutely,” Charlotte said. “You may speak with perfect impunity and trust my discretion and naturally shy and unassuming nature.”
“Too brown,” Gillian whispered to her cousin.
“Do you think so?” Charlotte whispered back. “I thought it was just right. See, Lord Carlisle looks as if he’s about to laugh.”
The earl did laugh then, a bit ruefully, but still it was a laugh. “I have said my piece, Lady Charlotte. It is now up to your cousin to come to her senses and take the advice I so earnestly offer.”
Gillian shook her head. “I’m afraid this discussion is at a standstill, my lord, so I will turn to another subject that I hold to be very important.”