Hayden looked up from Jez’s prone, sleeping form when Leo entered the bedchamber. He came out of the room Jez rested in and shut the door behind him.
“She finally sleeps,” he said.
Leo nodded, understanding he would have to let his anger simmer over not knowing the truth sooner. He did not wish to wake his ailing friend.
Hayden was down to his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows and damp at the edges. He must have helped with washing the sweat from Jez’s brow.
“How long have you known?” Leo felt betrayed that no one had confided the truth to him before now.
“I only found out.”
“You told me it was impossible.”
“I did not misguide you. Her husband knew of her condition and took it upon himself to lace her food and tea with blue cohosh.”
Leo crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Blue cohosh?”
“An herb to purge the babe from her body. He made a point of telling her before he passed.”
Leo swore red filled his vision. He’d never been so infuriated in his whole life. Never had he wanted to seek retribution on behalf of his friend so much. Nothing but sinking the pointed end of his rapier into the heart of his foe would make this marginally better. But this particular enemy was already dead.
“How did that bastard accomplish it?”
“His loyal valet, whom I have dispatched only this morning on a ship to Australia. Though he actively took part in aborting the baby, he did not know that the poisoning had succeeded.”
“I presume your reasoning for sending him off is that he can tell no one.”
“Precisely.”
“Has Jez sought help?”
Hayden swept his hand through his golden locks and scratched the back of his head. “When she found out what her husband had done, she saw a midwife outside of Town. She had hoped that the damage could be reversed, but it was too late to save the babe. The pains for her miscarriage, from what she told me, started just after her husband’s funeral.”
Hence her immediate retaliation against the man who stood to inherit it all, and her need to lose herself in a bottle of rum with her friends who were not aware of her situation.
“How long will she be away from society?” The unasked question was how long would the miscarriage last. How long before others noticed something to be unusually off with Jez?
“It’s hard to say. She was maybe four months into the pregnancy. She said the sickness at the beginning made her body too weak to withstand the herb Fallon had laced her food and drink with. I think she’ll be on her feet again in a week or so.”
Leo paced the room, rubbing his hand over his eyes and face as exhaustion from the long day settled over him.
While he empathized with Jez’s reasons to stop Mr. Warren from marrying, he better understood where the revenge stemmed from. Who was to say the man was as bad as she made him out to be? This had, in the course of a couple of hours, become an incredibly delicate situation.
He paused and then turned on his heel to face Hayden. “Does Tristan know?”
Leo wasn’t upset that Jez had chosen to confide in Hayden. She was closer to him, just as he was closer to Tristan in their friendship.
“He does not.”
Leo took to pacing the floor. “How is it you came by this information?”
“She was forced to reveal the truth when I had my solicitor start looking over the will. He asked if she was sure there was no possibility she was in a delicate way. She asked to speak to me privately at that point. She was very specific in her wish that I tell no one and to find some other wording that would let her contest the will.” The underlying meaning was that the fewer people who knew the better. “I’m sorry that included you and Tristan.”
“There is no need to apologize. I understand.”
Leo also assumed that he wasn’t to reveal any of tonight’s events to Tristan. And had he not come to talk to Jez, he probably never would have found out the truth, either.
“About the business with the girl,” Hayden said. “I suggest you give Tristan some excuse not to carry through. Mr. Warren has caught himself in the middle of a feud with Jez and her dead husband. Jez will regret her decision to ruin the girl’s hopes for a decent marriage when the melancholy of her loss subsides.”
“Tristan’s eyes are set firmly on the young lady. He’ll not be easily persuaded to leave the task unfinished.”
“If Tristan succeeds in this, I’m positive Jez will feel immense guilt when she is back to her old self.”
Would she? She had more reason than any to seek vengeance in a form that was satisfying and equal to that of her own loss.
“I hope you’re right. I’ll head over to Tristan’s house in the next few days. His sister arrived with his brats only yesterday, so he’ll be occupied with them.”
Hayden reached out and clasped his arm. “I know it’s difficult to keep this to ourselves, but we must do so for Jez’s sake. I worry she won’t pull through this and emerge as the woman we count as our dearest friend.”
“She’s not been herself since the funeral preparations were made.” He plucked his jacket from the chair he’d tossed it on earlier. “I’ll find a way to convince Tristan that this isn’t right.”
“I know you will,” Hayden said before Leo left for home.
Chapter 10
Though this writer did not receive an invite to the most talked-about house party of every summer, nor, would it seem, did the most ostensible Marquess of C___. Dear readers, can you guess which friend of the marquess’s did receive an invite?
Another noteworthy event is that Lady of G___birthed the duke’s heir only three months after nuptials. The question remains as to who sired the love child since rumor has it that the duke dueled at an undisclosed location two days after the birth of his son.
The Mayfair Chronicles, June 14, 1846
Not telling Tristan what had transpired at Jez’s townhouse had been more difficult than it should have been. But he had kept his word and would continue to remain silent.
Today, while he convinced his friend to abandon the Ponsley girl, he wouldn’t whisper a word of what he knew. Would Jezebel ever confide the truth in Tristan? Was she ashamed of what had happened? That would be outlandish considering she had had no control over the situation.
He’d been to visit her last evening but she’d been in too much pain to enjoy his company. Not that he was sure she even wanted his company when she was still out of sorts. It had been an uncomfortably short visit. He’d given her time to open up the gift he’d purchased—the fan that Hayden had told him about—and left without whispering a word of his concerns. She had put the present down without a second glance and given him a lackluster smile of gratitude.
Of course, he’d not been able to broach the subject of Lord Ponsley’s daughter, so he resolved to discuss it directly with Tristan.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Tristan asked.
They rarely convened any business of a professional or personal nature at Tristan’s home. Mainly because of the brats his friend let rule his life like wild animals. Though Leo admitted he was fond of the children. They were well behaved and intelligent enough to have a conversation with now that they’d outgrown the awkward babbling toddler years.
And really, they were as bad as their father with their pranks, trickery, and charming wit.
Rowan, the youngest at seven, was as sharp as a sword. Veronica, or Ronnie as everyone addressed her, was a match in intelligence to anyone who dared to challenge her inquisitive ten-year-old mind. While Rowan was the very image of his father, Ronnie was a blue-eyed blonde—and a beauty in the making.
Chin resting on her folded hands atop the luncheon table, she scrunched up her nose as though she were trying to put together a long-unsolved puzzle.
Why hadn’t he thought to come later in the day? Sometimes it was easy to forget that when Tristan was in residence with his children, he turned into a doting, caring father, who actually enjoyed time with the little devils. The only thing missing was a mother for Ronnie and Rowan and a wife for Tristan. Though his friend swore that another person in his life was the last thing he wanted.
Oddly enough, Tristan shed this dutiful, fatherly appearance the moment he stepped out into society. Perhaps he only wanted to be a good role model? He had come into fatherhood at a young age—nineteen to be precise.
Leo narrowed his gaze from one child to the next. Tristan took his meaning.
“It’s off with you lot now, isn’t it?” Tristan ran his hand through his son’s hair and tugged gently on a long lock of Ronnie’s hair. “Up to see your aunt you go.”
“But Papa, we have a guest,” Ronnie protested.
“There will be plenty of guests another time, angel. Right now, I need to discuss business with Leo. So do me a favor and run up and see Beatrice. If you finish your lessons early and to her satisfaction, you can have one of those chocolate tarts Cook makes.”
Ronnie pouted out her lower lip and reached for her brother’s hand. “Come on, Rowan. Papa thinks we’re intruding.”
“Don’t be mean to Papa, Ronnie. Aunt Beat will make you write out lines if you say bad things.”
Their voices faded as they left the room. The last thing Leo heard was, “Not if you don’t tell her.” It brought a smile to his face. They were a mischievous set, and he was glad they weren’t his children.