by Laura Landon
PROLOGUE
March, 1856
Everyone thought the Duchess of Townsend was dead. But she wasn’t.
Lady Winnifred Waverley, the Duke of Townsend’s eldest daughter, sat at her mother’s bedside and watched her mother sleep. The duchess had been drugged because, at times, that was the only way she could be controlled. The anger and bitterness that ate away at her had made the woman violent.
Winnie looked at her once beautiful mother. She wasn’t sure when the duchess had turned into a madwoman. Perhaps she’d always been insane. After all, how sane could a woman be to murder her husband’s first wife because she coveted her best friend’s title? How in control could her mother have been to attempt to murder her stepson―a boy she appeared to love deeply―because she wanted her own son instead of the rightful heir to be the future Duke of Townsend?
Winnie leaned forward and brushed her mother’s golden hair from her forehead. There were times when Winnie could almost convince herself that the woman in front of her wasn’t really her mother. Because how could she have a mother so ruthless? Yet even though Winnie had the darker coloring of her father, she only had to look at her brother and sister to know this was indeed their mother.
Winnie’s sister, Anne, had the same coloring. She had the same midnight blue eyes. She even had similar facial features. But that was where the resemblance ended.
Annie was gentle, loving and caring, where their mother was cold, conniving, and…a murderer.
The woman on the bed stirred, then her eyes opened and her stony gaze locked with Winnie’s. The venomous hatred directed at Winnie stole her breath.
“What are you doing here?” her mother hissed in disdain.
“I wanted to see you, Mother. I wanted to make sure you were being taken care of.”
“You mean you wanted to gloat,” her mother answered with accusing contempt.
Winnie shook her head. “You have left me nothing over which to gloat, Mother.”
“You enjoy seeing me like this. It’s your fault I’m locked away in this hellhole.”
“Saint Christina’s isn’t a hellhole, Mother. It is an excellent place where they’ll take wonderful care of you. If you show them that you can be trusted, they’ll allow you a degree more freedom.”
“Liar! You brought me here to punish me. You brought me here to rot away forever.”
Winnie knew it was no use trying to convince her mother otherwise, so she stopped arguing. “I came to see you today because I wanted to tell you it will be a while before I’m able to return. We’ll be leaving for London in a few days and I wanted to see you before we go.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’ve locked me away so I can’t have any part in Anne’s come-out.”
Winnie ignored the bitterness in her mother’s voice. “You’re here because you’re ill. Because you’re guilty of murder. And we’re going to London because Anne needs to make a match before Society discovers what you have done.”
“You mean you need to keep me locked away here because you hate me. You’re jealous of me because I’m beautiful and you’re not.” Her mother struggled with the cords that bound her hands to the sides of the bed.
“No, Mother. You’re here because you need help.”
“You only say that because that’s what your father thinks.” She pulled on the cords confining her. “You always did side with your father on everything. Now he’s poisoned your mind—because of her!”
Winnie was confused. “Because of who, Mother?”
“You know who,” she screamed. “Her! That bitch who stole your father away from me.”
Winnie shook her head. “Father hasn’t poisoned my mind, Mother. You did that when you took an innocent life.”
The Duchess of Townsend stared at her in wide-eyed horror, then she smiled broadly. She laughed for several seconds, then broke out in a demented cackle. “I killed her. I killed her. I killed her,” she sang in sing-song verse. “I killed her and now she is no more.”
As abruptly as her mother had begun her child-like song, she stopped. In the blink of an eye, the duchess reverted to the hateful, bitter murderer she’d been moments earlier. Her wild gaze darted from one side of the room to the other, then stopped when she focused her hate-filled gaze on Winnie. She glared at Winnie and her eyes sharpened with savage hatred. “Go away! I don’t want you here.”
Her mother’s demand should surprise and upset her, but it didn’t. Nothing her mother said could hurt her any longer. “I know you don’t, Mother.”
“Where’s my other daughter? The pretty one. My beautiful Anne.”
Winnie’s fingers clasped tighter in her lap. “She couldn’t come, Mother. Perhaps next time.”
“That’s what you always say. But that’s a lie. It’s your fault she’s not here. You won’t let her come to see me. I hate you! You’re mean. You’re not like my sweet Anne.”
Winnie let her mother’s hateful words roll off her like water rolled off a duck. The woman speaking wasn’t her mother. But then…. Had she ever had a mother? Had the woman strapped to the bed before her ever been a mother to her? A real mother?
The answer to that question hurt her more than she anticipated it would.
Winnie drew on a strength she had to search hard to find, especially on the days she came to Saint Christina’s Hospital to see her mother and pay for her mother’s care. Those were difficult days for her. Her mother was getting worse. Her mental stability was deteriorating. She’d become more hostile in the year she’d been here, more violent.
“You’re keeping Anne away from me to punish me, aren’t you?”
“No, Mother.”
“Yes, you are! I hate you. You’re nothing but a spiteful, conniving bitch. I hate you.”
“I know, Mother,” Winnie said as she rose to leave. The very sight of her irritated her mother. She knew that, but what choice did she have? How could she abandon her completely? She’d put her mother here because she couldn’t risk that the authorities would have tried her for the murders she’d committed. She’d made the decision to let everyone believe her mother was dead because the scandal her arrest and conviction would have caused would have ruined the Townsend name, as well as destroyed any chance Anne had to have a Season and make a wonderful match.
Winnie didn’t care for herself. She didn’t intend on marrying anyway. But Annie was different. She’d so looked forward to having a Season. She’d talked of nothing except their upcoming move to London and how excited she was for her Season. She’d dreamed of the man she would meet, a man she’d fall in love with and marry. Winnie couldn’t let her mother ruin Annie’s life. She couldn’t.
All she had to do was make sure no one ever discovered that her mother was still alive. Make sure no one found out that she was here.
“Goodbye, Mother,” Winnie said when she reached the door.
“Get out of here, bitch!” her mother screamed. “I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you!”
“I know, Mother,” Winnie said as she closed the door behind her.
Her mother’s vile rantings echoed in Winnie’s ears, long after she was away from Saint Christina’s Hospital.
CHAPTER 1
One month later
The crush at tonight’s ball was even more suffocating than the crowd at any of the balls Winnie had attended so far this Season. It seemed everyone had turned out for the Earl of Lindquist’s ball tonight to speculate on who would make the most advantageous match of the Season.
Winnie shifted her gaze to the dance floor. Anne was in the arms of the Earl of Montroy, heir to the Marquess of Palmston. The dance was a waltz, and the two of them made a perfect couple.
“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Winnie’s brother Ben said from beside her.
Winnie turned to face her brother. He and his wife, Rachael, had been assigned the duty of escorting Winnie and Anne tonight. Their father, the Duke of Townsend, didn’t expect his committee meeting to finish in time to escort his daughters to the ball, and had elicited Ben’s help.
“She is happy,” Winnie answered. “In her estimation, Lord Montroy not only walks on water, but has the power to part it, and turn the land to dry ground.”
Ben and Rachael both laughed. “I told Father to expect a visit from Montroy before the Season ended,” Ben whispered. “I hope he’s ready to let Anne go.”
“I don’t think he’ll have much say in the matter,” Winnie said, focusing on the looks Montroy and Anne shared.
“She’s made a good choice,” Rachael said. “Montroy is one of the catches of the Season.”
“What about you, Winnie?” Ben said, looking at the crowds of eligible males gathered in the ballroom. “Which one has caught your eye?”
“No one, Ben. This is Anne’s Season.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t both find the man of your dreams,” Rachael said, looking at Winnie with an expression that said she realized that Winnie had done everything in her power to avoid being noticed. That she’d done everything she could to discourage every male who’d paid her the least bit of attention.
“This Season belongs to Anne,” she said, hoping Ben and Rachael would let the subject drop.
There was no way Winnie could consider allowing anyone to be a part of her life. No way to expect anyone to understand about her mother. No way she could risk anyone finding out that her mother was still alive. That she was locked away in an asylum.
That she was a murderer.
“Don’t be too determined to make yourself unapproachable, Winnie,” Ben said.
“Just because you and Rachael are happy being married, doesn’t mean marriage is for everyone,” Winnie said with a smile on her face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll make my way to the refreshment table for something to drink. And you, brother, might want to ask your wife to dance. The way her toes keep tapping time to the music, I’ll lay odds she’s anxious to be out on the dance floor.”
Winnie gave Rachael a wink, then walked away from her brother and his wife to make her way to the opposite side of the room. There were several unoccupied chairs against the wall, one of which was nearly hidden behind a large potted palm. Hopefully, she could sit there without being noticed until her father decided they’d stayed long enough.
One set followed another, and after the third set, her father came toward her with Annie at his side.
Winnie rose. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the healthy glow on her sister’s cheeks. “Father, did you notice there seems to be something wrong with Annie’s eyes?” she asked as they made their way to leave the ballroom.
Concern filled her father’s eyes and he cast an evaluative glance at his youngest daughter. “There is?”
“Oh, yes. There seem to be stars shining in Annie’s eyes. What do you think could be the cause of such an oddity?”
The Duke of Townsend dropped his head back on his shoulders and laughed. “I don’t think the answer lies in what caused such a happening, as much as in who, daughter.”
“Oh, Father,” Annie said. Two rosy circles darkened her cheeks. Annie was indeed taken with a certain young earl. She looped one arm through her father’s bent elbow, and her other arm through Winnie’s, and they made their way to the exit.
The trio stopped to say their farewells to Lord and Lady Lindquist, then continued to the foyer for their wraps.
“Wasn’t this the most wonderful evening ever?” Annie said after they’d climbed aboard the Townsend carriage and had started their journey home.
“Yes, it most certainly was,” Winnie said, taking in the elated expression on her sister’s face. “But I have a feeling much of the reason the evening was so special was because of a certain young man I noticed you danced with twice. And both times a waltz.”
“Isn’t Lord Montroy the most wonderful person you’ve ever met?” Anne said on a heavy sigh. “Don’t you think so, Father?”
The Duke of Townsend crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look as severe as possible. “Wonderful? Hmm…” the duke said as a question. “I’m not sure wonderful is the first word I think of when considering him. Is that what you think of Lord Montroy, Winnie?”
“I’m not sure wonderful is the first term that comes to mind. Although, I have to admit he is quite handsome, and he seems a passable dancer. So, perhaps that does qualify him as wonderful.”
“Oh, Winnie,” Annie said when she realized Winnie was teasing her.
Winnie laughed. So did her father and her sister. The sound of her family happy again filled her with joy. It had been so long since they’d laughed. So long since they’d found something to laugh about.
They were still laughing when their carriage pulled up in front of Townsend House. Winnie and Anne kissed their father good night, then went up the stairs and to their own rooms.
Winnie was glad Anne professed she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Winnie was ready to go to bed, too.
She made her way to her room, unable to stifle a yawn as she opened the door. The yawn caught in her throat when she looked at her maid, Tilly.
The horrified expression on Tilly’s face said everything Winnie needed to know. The letter in Tilly’s outstretched hand confirmed Winnie’s greatest fear.
“This came shortly after you left, my lady.”
Winnie took the folded paper and stared at the crude writing. Her hands trembled as she held the missive. She wanted to crumple the paper and throw it in the fire, but she knew she couldn’t. Ignoring the demand from the blackmailer would be tragic.
“Did anyone see who brought this?”
Tilly shook her head. “It came just like the others. A lad brought it to the back door and asked for me. The second I appeared, he dropped the note at my feet and ran.”
Winnie opened the missive and stared at the writing. The handwriting was the same as on the other notes. The demand the same. Only this time the amount was larger than the last time.
Her legs trembled beneath her. Winnie stumbled to the nearest chair and sank down on the cushion. When would this end? How much longer could she continue to come up with the money she needed to pay the blackmailer?
Somehow, someone had discovered that her mother was still alive. Someone had discovered where she was. But most terrifying, they threatened to turn her in to the authorities for what she’d done. They threatened to tell the authorities that she’d killed her father’s first wife, and the doctor who was treating her. And that she’d tried to kill her stepson, Gideon, Marquess of Sheffield.
Winnie’s blood ran cold. The scandal would destroy them. It would ruin Anne’s chance for a marriage with the Earl of Montroy. It would destroy their father’s good name and his standing in Society. It would put a blemish on the Townsend name from which none of them would ever recover.
Winnie clutched her hand to her stomach for fear she might be ill. Who could have discovered that her mother was still alive? How could anyone have found out what she’d done? She’d been so careful.
As far as the sisters at Saint Christina’s Hospital were concerned, the woman in their care was Agatha Filbert.
When Winnie had made arrangements to take her mother there, she’d admitted her as Agatha Filbert. She’d explained to the sisters that Agatha Filbert had been the duchess’s long-time devoted lady’s maid. Winnie explained that Agatha had become delusional. That instead of being a lady’s maid to the duchess, she now thought she was the Duchess of Townsend.
Winnie had stressed that the Duchess of Townsend wanted Agatha given special care because of her many years of loyal service. She paid extra every quarter to assure that care was guaranteed.
She couldn’t believe any of them had discovered the truth, or had turned to blackmail to extort money.
There had to be someone else. But who?
Winnie sat back against the soft cushion of her chair and closed her eyes. “Tell Hodgekens to get the carriage ready,” she told Tilly. “I’ll be down as soon as Father’s gone to bed and I’m sure he’s asleep.”
“Must you, my lady? Surely there’s another way. Surely if you told your Father—”
“No, Tilly. Father must never find out. He’d do the honorable thing and turn Mother over to the authorities. That would ruin everything. It would destroy Anne’s future.”
“But you can’t keep going out like this. It’s dangerous.”
Winnie shook her head. “I don’t have a choice. Now, take the servant stairs and tell Hodgekens I’ll be down shortly. I’m going to close my eyes for a few minutes. Wake me when it’s safe to leave.”
“Very well, my lady. But I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Winnie said on a sigh. “But there’s not much I can do about it if I don’t want to ruin everyone’s life.”
Winnie closed her eyes and listened as the door closed behind Tilly. She wouldn’t sleep. She knew it wouldn’t be possible to sleep, but she could at least sit in the quiet and try to forget what she had to do.
Except she knew forgetting wasn’t possible either.
CHAPTER 2
Nick Stillman adjusted the mask on his face and walked through the doors of The Soiled Dove. The Dove, as it was commonly called was one of the most exclusive gaming hells in London. It was a heavily guarded, private establishment, with such strict membership requirements that it was one of the most exclusive clubs in London. Allowing both male and female members only added to The Dove’s appeal.
The Dove was located in a large, three-story brick building in the eastern part of London. Not as far east as the St. Giles area, yet far enough east of the fashionable West End that its location didn’t draw notice from anyone who passed by. At a glance, there was nothing of note about the building. Until you walked through the doors, and entered into The Dove’s special world.
